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Well, friends, we're in Luke chapter 7 this morning.
Gospel of Luke chapter 7, verses 36 through 50.
That's page 864 in the Pew Bible.
Let's turn there together.
In the Gospels, we actually read of two different occasions when Jesus is anointed with oil or ointment.
One happens near the end of his ministry in a town called Bethany as he's ministering in Jerusalem for the last time.
But the other happens actually early in his ministry in Galilee.
And it's this earlier event that Luke records for us here in chapter 7.
So why don't we pray as we come to God's Word together.
God, as we come before you this morning, we are so grateful that you are a missionary God.
That you have sent your Son on a great mission of redemption.
God, you are the great sender and you have come to rescue.
And Lord, we thank you that it's your Word that goes forth.
That opens our eyes and softens our hearts and imparts life to us.
So we pray, Father, that by your Spirit, working by and with the Word, we would be addressed by you this morning.
Lord Jesus, that you would be indeed just that Lord over our hearts, over our lives, over our church.
And we pray over our city.
So we come before you with humility and with confidence this morning.
In the name of Jesus, amen.
Amen.
Well, friends, why don't we stand?
This is something we don't actually do a lot.
Why don't we stand as I read God's Word together?
We'll stretch our legs.
And we'll also honor God's Word at the same time.
Luke chapter 7, verse 36.
One of the Pharisees asked him, that is, Jesus, to eat with him.
And he went into the Pharisee's house and reclined at table.
And behold, a woman of the city who was a sinner, when she learned that he was reclining at table in the Pharisee's house,
brought an alabaster flask of ointment.
And standing behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears and wipe them with the hair of her head and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment.
Now, when the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, if this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner.
And Jesus, answering, said to him, Simon, I have something to say to you.
And he answered, say it, teacher.
A certain moneylender had two debtors.
One owed 500 denarii and the other 50.
When they could not pay, he canceled the debt of both.
Now, which of them will love him more?
Simon answered, the one, I suppose, for whom he canceled the larger debt.
And Jesus said to him, you judge rightly.
And turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, do you see this woman?
I entered your house.
You gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair.
You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in, she has not ceased to kiss my feet.
You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.
Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven.
For she loved much.
But he who is forgiven little, loves little.
And he said to her, your sins are forgiven.
Then those who were at table with him began to say among themselves, who is this who even forgives sins?
And he said to the woman, your faith has saved you.
Go in peace.
Be seated.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
Of course, that's the opening line of John Newton's famous 18th century hymn.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
A few decades earlier, however, a much less famous letter was being written.
And that carried the exact opposite sentiment.
Selina Hastings, the Countess of Huntingdon, had invited her friend, the Duchess of Buckingham,
to come hear George Whitefield preach.
But the Duchess sent back this reply, commenting on the preaching of Whitefield.
She wrote,
Amazing grace for wretched sinners.
To one, it's a sweet sound.
And to the other, it's something monstrous, offensive, and insulting.
Of course, you don't have to go all the way back to the 18th century to find both of those reactions to the message of Christianity, do you?
Plenty of people today react the same way.
Either attracted or repulsed.
And of course, it wasn't something new in the 18th century either.
In fact, that dual response to the message of Christianity goes all the way back to the very beginning.
Right here, in our text from Luke, we see two characters.
One attracted to Jesus.
The other repelled.
And this text actually forces us to ask,
Which one am I?
How does my heart respond to Jesus and his grace?
So as we look at this story this morning,
first, we're going to take a look at how these two characters are different.
And then we're going to see what reason Jesus says is the reason why they're so different.
And then last, we'll see why that reason is such good news.
So first, two people respond to Jesus.
It's hard to imagine here two people being more different than the two characters responding to Jesus in this text, right?
Think about these two people.
One had a high social position.
The other was a social outcast.
One was wealthy enough to host a dinner party in his own house.
The other was an uninvited guest.
One was morally respectable.
The other was notoriously disreputable.
Simon, we're told, is a Pharisee.
He's religious.
He's principled.
He's upright.
This is the guy that you'd probably want your daughter to date or something.
The woman, we're told, however, is a sinner.
And although Luke doesn't say, historically, many have suspected that her sinful reputation was because she was a prostitute.
And as different as these two people are, it's hard to imagine two people responding in such different ways to Jesus.
First, consider the woman.
Listen, she lavishes her affection on Jesus publicly, openly.
She expresses her devotion and love for him.
Now, picture this scene that Luke is retelling for us.
A dinner party like this would have been held actually in the courtyard of a house.
The climate was actually much too hot in those days to have such a large gathering indoors.
And such gatherings in those days weren't actually as private as ours would be today.
The doors would have remained open, allowing extra friends and even uninvited passersby to sort of wander in and sit around the edge of the courtyard.
They had sort of different understanding of public and private those days.
And dining in those days happened around a table that was actually low to the ground.
So to eat, you would actually recline or you would lie down, typically on your left side, with your legs sort of stretching out away from the table.
So now you can picture in your mind how this scene unfolds.
The meal is taking place.
And suddenly, Luke says,
And behold, a woman from the edge of the courtyard, a woman no one invited, but everyone recognizes, comes to the table, right up to Jesus.
With a flask of ointment in her hands, clearly she intends to anoint Jesus' feet.
You see, in that hot, dry, eastern climate, oils and ointments were used much more extensively than ours to keep the skin from drying and cracking.
But this was also a common custom to show respect, to honor someone.
But before she can begin to anoint his feet, she's overcome with emotion and begins to weep.
And then, seeing her tears fall on Jesus' feet, she instinctively undoes her hair, lets it down for all to see, and begins to wipe and dry Jesus' feet with her hair.
But you see, in that day, letting down your hair was something that no decent woman would do in public.
It was one of those sort of social mores, one of those social standards.
Women didn't do that.
That was scandalous.
So you can hear the gasps around the table.
And if the conversation hasn't stopped to start staring, everyone's staring now.
But on she goes, not just wiping his feet with her hair, but kissing them too.
Another tremendous sign of honor.
And then finally, she anoints his feet with the ointment.
What a scene.
And you have to admit that if you were sitting there in the courtyard,
you would have probably been a bit taken back too.
I mean, it's almost a bit embarrassing, isn't it?
A woman weeping and kissing and rubbing her hair on Jesus' feet.
Feet, which we learn a little later in the story, had not even been washed by his host.
Still dirty from the dusts of the streets.
So there she is, a bit of a mess.
Emotional, weeping, dirt clinging to her hair from Jesus' feet, people staring.
And yet one thing is very clear.
This woman loves Jesus deeply.
Does she not?
Contrast that response with Simon's.
Now, we don't know why Simon invited Jesus for a meal in the first place.
Perhaps this was a Sabbath meal after Jesus had preached in the local synagogue.
That was a common custom.
Maybe Simon always had the preacher over for lunch afterwards.
Whoever happened to be in town, well, you were coming to Simon's house.
Or maybe Simon was just curious about Jesus.
Or maybe he wanted to have the honor of hosting this famous rabbi from Nazareth
that everyone was talking about that he had heard so much about.
Whatever it is, Jesus accepts his invitation.
He's willing to give even this Pharisee an opportunity to hear the good news of the kingdom of God.
Jesus has come to seek and save sinners no matter what kind of sinners they look like.
But after the incident with the sinful woman, Simon's mind is made up.
After the sinful woman honors Jesus openly, Simon scorns Jesus secretly.
No real prophet would let a woman like that put her unclean hands on him.
You can just feel the scorn dripping in his mind, both towards the woman and toward Jesus.
For Simon, you see, it's quite simple, isn't it?
It all adds up.
The woman was a notorious sinner.
She had broken all God's commands.
She was beyond the pale of God's kingdom.
And if Jesus couldn't see that, then he couldn't possibly be who he claims to be.
So Simon, seeing the company that Jesus apparently keeps,
closes the book on the so-called prophet from Nazareth.
Two very different people.
Two very different responses.
So friends, I wonder if you see yourself in either of these characters.
You see the lavish love of the sinful woman?
Or the respectable scorn of Simon the Pharisee?
Maybe it would help if we ask some questions to our own hearts that these characters and their actions put to us.
Here's a question.
How much of my spiritual neediness am I willing to let others see?
How much of my own spiritual neediness am I willing to let other people see?
When this woman comes before Jesus, she's willing to let all sorts of things hang loose, isn't she?
Her past, her reputation, her emotional state.
Is that the way it is when we come before Christ?
Are we willing to let others see that we're actually struggling?
That we actually have spiritual needs?
That we're actually sinners?
Or like Simon, do we just keep our thoughts to ourselves?
When we gather on Sundays, for instance, are we simply here to show everyone that we're doing okay?
Or are we actually willing to let people see that we don't actually have it all together?
Now, I'm just as guilty of this as anybody else.
I can yell at my kids on the drive into the parking lot.
And I can be nursing a three-day-long grudge against my wife.
Or I can be beating myself up over some failure of the past week.
But as soon as I walk through those doors, I'm doing great.
Nothing wrong here.
How are you?
I got a tie on.
How about you, friend?
Is there some context where you're willing to let your guard down?
To let someone behind the curtain to see what's really going on?
If it's not Sunday, is it small group?
If it's not small group, is it a relationship with someone in the church?
Is there anyone who knows what you're struggling with?
And if so, why not stop putting on a show when we all get together?
Yes, there's an appropriate time and place to fully open up.
I get that.
But are you finding the time?
Are you willing to find the place?
If not, maybe there's less of this woman's love and more of this Pharisee's scorn in our hearts than we care to admit.
Here's another question.
Is there a limit on what I think Jesus could ask of me?
Simon had Jesus into his home for a meal.
But as Jesus points out a little later in verses 44 through 46, Simon refrained from any other signs of honor, even the basic acts of hospitality.
Simon was willing to go only so far in his identification with Jesus, only so far in his service of him.
But the woman is willing to get as low as a servant, right down at Jesus' feet to wash the dirt off.
There was no limit on what she would do for him.
Whether it was financially costly, like breaking open a whole alabaster flask of ointment, which would not have been cheap in those days.
Or whether it's socially costly, like standing up before a whole gathering of folks who know your past and don't want anything to do with you.
She was undeterred.
Is it that way for you?
Or is there a line?
Where God can't cross.
I love you and serve you, Lord, so long as it doesn't involve my job.
That I've worked so hard to achieve.
This relationship that I've wanted for so long.
The approval of my peers.
The truth is we all come up against those limits, don't we?
We all feel that tug.
We all feel that pull.
We all find that we have limits.
One more question.
How do I respond to people I think of as sinners?
Simon knew all about this woman, and he didn't want his life to touch her life in any way.
How do we respond to people we think of as sinners?
What do we say about them?
How do we treat them?
If someone were to read your Facebook posts over the past nine months, what impression would they give?
Here's a person who's life is a person who's a person who's a sinner?
Here's a person whose life is marked by the grace of Christ, who's striving to treat others with civility and understanding and patience,
even with those that they disagree with?
Is that what they would see?
Or rather, would they see snap judgments and snarky one-liners and long, angry tirades, us versus them?
What impression would a reader get?
Would they think that the love of Christ is governing your responses?
And putting social media aside, what about your actual relationships?
Do you really believe that God has grace for sinners and that He wants to use you to share it with them?
Or would you and I rather that our lives not actually touch theirs in any way?
Like those neighbors who really don't want anything to do with Jesus?
Or that classmate who's notorious for hooking up with a different girl every weekend?
What about him?
Or what about that family member who's been in and out of rehab?
How do you view them?
How do you respond to them?
What attitude do you hold in your heart toward them?
So here we have two very different people.
Two very different responses to Jesus.
Two very different heart attitudes.
And I think if we're honest friends, we're more like Simon than we care to admit.
But the text doesn't stop there.
Next, Jesus Himself is going to show us what's underneath.
How is it that one is so loving and the other so cold?
What has made their hearts so radically different?
And what is it that will change our hearts?
What is it that will move us from secret, hard-hearted scorn to open, lavish, free love?
Rather than telling us, Jesus is going to show us.
And He's going to show us through a simple story of two debtors.
In verse 40, Jesus answers Simon.
That's an interesting note by Luke, isn't it?
That Jesus answers him.
Answers Simon's silent thoughts.
Because after all, Jesus is a prophet.
And much more than a prophet.
Not only does He not know everything about this woman,
He knows everything about her and He knows everything about Simon too.
So, He answers.
And here's the story.
One person owes 50 denarii.
And a denarius is a day's wage.
So, almost two months' salary here.
50 denarii.
And the other owes 500.
Well over a year's salary.
Think in your mind how much that might be for you.
And the money lender, in an act of sheer generosity,
cancels the debt of them both.
And then Jesus asks a very simple question to Simon.
Simon, which one will love Him more?
Of course, the one who had the greater debt canceled, right?
And then in verse 44, Jesus brings it home.
Simon didn't give Jesus so much as the basic acts of hospitality.
No water for His feet.
No kiss of welcome.
No oil to honor Him.
Yet she went above and beyond this sinful woman He has so much scorn for.
She has done what He has refused to do.
It's clear, is it not, which one loves more.
But why?
Because one of them knows the heart-liberating power of the forgiveness of sins.
And the other one doesn't.
That's the point.
You see, Simon thinks that this woman's great sins
puts her beyond the pale of the kingdom of God.
But Jesus sees that great sinners,
when forgiven by God,
make great lovers of God.
Of course, Jesus' point isn't that Simon has fewer sins than this woman.
Rather, Jesus is showing us that the real danger
isn't how much you've sinned,
but how little you think you need forgiveness.
The real danger, friends,
isn't how much you've sinned,
but how little you think you need forgiveness.
And it's forgiveness,
received,
experienced,
internalized,
that releases the floodgates of grateful love.
But,
he who is forgiven little,
loves little.
Why are so many churches,
even so many Christians,
self-righteous,
hypocritical,
judgmental?
And why, too often than I care to admit,
can I be the same way?
Because we say we need forgiveness in our heads,
but we don't really believe it in our hearts.
Our little love proves
that we know but little forgiveness,
if any at all.
This was a critical lesson for Luke's day.
Read the book of Acts.
As the gospel of Jesus went forth,
Greeks and Romans,
Gentile pagans,
came streaming into the church.
Former cult prostitutes,
imperial government workers,
tradesmen,
day laborers.
And what would the faithful Jews think
of these notorious sinners
flocking to their Messiah?
Would they want nothing to do with them?
Or would they admit that they, too,
were hopeless sinners,
that no one could be justified
by the works of the law?
Would they, too,
see that they had a need
for radical grace?
And would they embrace
these Gentile converts
as brothers and sisters in Christ?
But, friends,
if that message was critical
for the church in Luke's day,
it's so critical for us today, too.
Only as our hearts continue
to be gripped
by the radical forgiveness
of the gospel
will we be a church
ready to meet our neighbors
with good news.
Not to affirm them
in their waywardness,
but to approach them
as people made in the image
of God,
for whom God sent
His only Son
to love them
and rescue them
and draw them to Himself
just like God
has done for us.
Which is to say
that if we grasp
how much we ourselves
have been forgiven,
it will change
how we respond
to the people
that we think of
as sinners.
we can't possibly
view them
in the same way anymore.
But what about
the other two questions
we raised?
How much of my
spiritual neediness
am I willing
to let others see?
Is there a limit
on what I think
Jesus could ask me?
Is not the radical
experience of forgiveness
what allowed
this sinful woman
both to let others
see her neediness
without shame
and to put no limits
on her love for Christ?
Of course,
we don't know exactly
when she came to understand
forgiveness through Jesus.
Was it through His teaching
on some other occasion?
Perhaps it was in the synagogue
that very morning.
We don't know.
But Jesus is very clear.
Her sins,
which are many,
are forgiven.
And how does Jesus know that?
What does He point us to
as the sign?
For she loved much.
And of course,
Jesus isn't saying
that her love
was the cause
of her forgiveness,
right?
The whole point
of the passage
is the exact opposite.
What Jesus means is clear.
Her sins are forgiven
and that's why
she loves so much.
That's why she could
let others see her
without hiding.
That's why she could
love Jesus
without limits.
And friend,
if you come to know
that forgiveness,
you won't need
to hide either.
You won't live
for other people's
approval or affirmation.
You won't need
to put on a good show.
Why?
Because the verdict's
already come down on you.
When you see
how much
you've been forgiven,
you realize
that the truth
about you
is much,
much worse
than people think.
it's much,
much worse
than you thought.
You need
radical forgiveness.
It's really
that bad.
Whatever I'm
struggling with
this morning
isn't half
of what my
real problem is.
So you can
stop pretending
like everything's
okay.
And you can
stop trying
to puff yourself
up before other
people.
And at the same
time,
the verdict has
come down,
not just showing
you how much
you need forgiveness,
but how great
a forgiveness
you've received.
Every penny
has been paid.
The debt
is gone.
And in Christ,
you have nothing
to fear.
So you don't
need to hide.
And you don't
need to hold back.
if that's
how much
he's done
for you,
if he's
erased the
debt you
could never
pay,
if he's
secured your
eternal
redemption,
how could you
not love him
and trust him?
How could we
not want to
do anything
he asks
if he's
done that
for us?
A love
without limits
flows from
a forgiven
heart.
So the real
difference
between these
two people,
between these
two heart
attitudes,
comes down
to forgiveness.
If you know
you've been
forgiven much,
you will
love much.
But there's
one last thing
Luke wants us
to see.
Not just the
contrast between
these two
characters,
not just the
forgiveness that
produces love,
but he wants
us to see
something about
this forgiveness
that makes it
so life-changing.
After all,
how do we get
this forgiveness?
How does it
come to us?
What do we
have to do
to get it?
And this is
how the text
ends in verses
48 through 50.
After finishing
his challenge
to Simon,
he now turns
to the woman
and he said
to her,
your sins
are forgiven.
Then those
who were at
table with him
began to say
among themselves,
who is this
who even forgives
sins?
And he said
to the woman,
your faith
has saved
you.
Go in
peace.
How does
this heart
changing
forgiveness
come to
us?
Faith.
But think
of how strange
that is.
How can
faith alone
save us?
Isn't that
the strangest
thing you've
ever heard?
heard?
I know
you've heard
it a lot.
You're just
too used
to it.
How can
Jesus be
so confident
that simply
through this
woman putting
her faith,
her trust
in him,
that her
debt of
sin will
be totally
taken care
of?
What an
odd thing
to say.
How can
Jesus be
so sure?
God
will
do it
forever?
Well,
friends,
the answer
is that
because even
now,
in this
very moment,
sitting around
that table,
Jesus knows
what he's
come to
do.
Like the
money lender
in his own
story,
Jesus has
come to
cancel our
debt.
sin.
The
apostle Paul
put it
this way,
on the
cross,
God made
him who
knew no
sin to
be sin
for us
so that
in him
we might
become the
righteousness
of God.
On the
cross,
Jesus was
our
substitute
paying
our
debt,
and that
payment
was so
sufficient,
so
complete,
so
massive
that there's
nothing
left for
us to
do but
to receive
it.
Just to
trust him
that he's
done it
all and
to place
our faith
in him.
You see,
friends,
forgiveness
has to be
through faith
alone.
It has to
be that
radical
and that
free.
Because if
any ounce
of our
own work
or our
own merit
or our
own acts
of love
need to
be added
to it,
then the
cross wasn't
the full
payment for
our sin.
That Jesus'
death was
insufficient
for us.
That it
fell short,
that it
wasn't
enough,
that the
death of
the very
Son of
God in
your place
had
something
missing
in it.
What an
absurd
thought.
God
and if
that's
true,
then Jesus
couldn't
say your
faith has
saved you,
go in
peace.
But you
see,
friends,
the death
of Christ
for you
needs no
supplement.
It needs
no addition.
It was the
complete
payment
of your
debt.
how do
we know?
Because three
days later,
God raised
Jesus from
the dead
to demonstrate
that every
single sin
for everyone
who repents
and believes
was totally
paid for.
Death
couldn't hold
Jesus.
Why?
Because he
had done
away with
sin.
And if
sin was
gone,
then death
laid no
claim on
him.
And now
everyone who
repents and
believes in
him enters
into that
sin-defeating
death and
that resurrection
for justification.
It's done.
It's
complete.
This is
how radically
free
forgiveness
is to
us.
So
radical
that we
can have
it through
faith and
faith alone.
But it's
free to us,
friends,
because it
was so
costly for
him.
Amazing
grace,
how sweet
the sound
that saved
a wretch
like me.
Can you
say that
this morning?
The one
who's forgiven
little loves
little,
yes,
but the one
who is
forgiven
much loves
much.
May we be
a church who
knows that
our many and
great sins have
been forgiven,
and may we
love much.
Let's pray.
Lord Jesus,
that is our
prayer,
that we
would be a
church that
loves much,
and that we
would be a
church for
whom your
great forgiveness
of our sins
would always be
fresh and
always be new.
So,
Lord Jesus,
send your
spirit into
our hearts.
Blow across
the dying
coals within
us.
Kindle that
flame of love
once again for
you.
Help us to
see that
though our
sins are
as scarlet,
you have
washed them
white as
snow.
We ask
this in your
name,
Lord Jesus.
Amen.