Luke 7:36-50

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Well, friends, we're in Luke chapter 7 this morning.

Luke 7 · chapter mention

Gospel of Luke chapter 7, verses 36 through 50.

Luke 7:36–50

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.

Luke 7:36

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.

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?

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?

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?

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.