Rain from the mountain morning dispersed, the sun breaking through the remaining clouds. A beam of sunlight streaked across the sanctuary and bounced off the wooden cross behind the pulpit. Hope reflected. Healing reminded.
The preacher read from the sermon text:
Then one of the Pharisees asked Him [Jesus] to eat with him. And He went to the Pharisee’s house, and sat down to eat. And behold, a woman in the city who was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at the table in the pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of fragrant oil, and stood at His feet behind Him weeping; and she began to wash His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head; and she kissed His feet and anointed them with the fragrant oil. ~ Luke 7:36-38
Jesus had done a remarkable work of forgiveness and restoration in this woman’s life. With unabashed thanksgiving she knelt before Him and offered that which had great worth — an alabaster flask of fragrant oil to anoint His feet bathed in her grateful tears. The sweet aroma of worship wafted toward heaven.
The preacher spoke of her act of worship, her gesture of humility. He spoke of her offering to the One she loved — how she fell at His feet much like we fall at the foot of the cross to receive His mercy and grace. As the preacher spoke, I felt my spirit stirring within me. The Lord beckoned me to the altar to give Him that which is of utmost worth to me — my broken heart.
I knelt on the crimson carpet, tears washing away residual anger and confusion. In my mind’s eye I looked on the face of Jesus. His eyes searched mine.
And He smiled.
I reached deep into my heart and wrenched the roots of betrayal’s destruction away — away from the new work my God is doing in me. Away from tender scars still vulnerable to the enemy’s taunts. I handed Him the dirtied roots Thankfulness rose like a flood in my parched spirit as my healing continued.
I wonder if the woman restored from a broken life felt compelled — drawn — to the feet of Jesus to express her gratitude? Did her heart respond unashamedly to the love of her Savior? In that moment of worship was she aware of the others in the room, or was she so enthralled with Jesus that, in that moment, her focus was Him, and Him alone?
I think she was compelled. Unashamed. And enthralled by His love and amazing grace.
I know I was.
And always will be.
As I knelt before Him with my tears of gratitude, and offered the roots of betrayal’s wounds, His eyes took my breath away. Through His radiant light I saw hope reflected. Healing reminded.
And I worshiped Him.
This Friday on Faith Notes I’ll be featuring author Sandra Hart as she shares how she found the nearness of God during her mother’s battle with Alzheimers. I hope you’ll join us. Last Friday, Deborah Clack shared her struggle with chronic illness which ultimately opened her eyes to see and understand the gifts God would use because of her difficulties.
Do you have a story to share — a testimony of how you found the nearness of God when you needed Him the most? I want to feature people from all walks of life: authors, singers, artists — ordinary folks with extraordinary faith. Please contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org for more information.