Attitude & Action

Luke 7:36-50

Who Is Jesus to You? A Tale of Two Hearts

There's a dinner party happening. The guest list includes religious leaders, curious onlookers, and one controversial teacher who has been making waves throughout the region. The atmosphere is tense, charged with unspoken questions and hidden agendas. But what unfolds at this gathering reveals one of the most profound truths about faith, forgiveness, and the nature of Jesus Christ.

The Uninvited Guest

Picture the scene: a Pharisee's courtyard, tables laden with food, guests reclining in the custom of the day. Then she appears—a woman known throughout the city for her sinful life. She wasn't invited. She had no right to be there. Everyone knew her reputation, and everyone's eyes followed her as she made her way through the crowd.

But she didn't come for the food or the company. She came for Jesus.

In her hands, an alabaster jar of perfume—likely the most valuable possession she owned. Years of savings in a single container. And without hesitation, without waiting for permission or the "right moment," she approached Jesus and did something extraordinary.

She wept. Her tears fell on His feet. She let down her hair—an act of vulnerability and even shame in that culture—and wiped His feet with it. Then she poured out her expensive perfume, anointing Him with extravagant worship.

Not a single word is recorded that she spoke. But her actions thundered through that courtyard louder than any sermon.

The Critical Observer

Meanwhile, the host—a man named Simon—watched with growing disgust. His internal dialogue reveals everything: "If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner."

Notice the double insult embedded in that thought. Simon simultaneously condemns the woman and dismisses Jesus. In his mind, a true prophet would recognize sin and recoil from it. A holy man would never allow such a person to touch him.

But here's what's striking: Simon had invited Jesus to dinner, yet he had shown Him none of the basic courtesies expected in that culture. No water for His feet. No greeting kiss. No oil for His head. Every sign of welcome and honor was conspicuously absent.

Simon's lack of hospitality wasn't an oversight. It was a statement. He had invited Jesus not out of respect or curiosity about truth, but to scrutinize Him, to catch Him in a mistake, to figure out if this traveling teacher measured up to Simon's standards.

A Parable That Cuts to the Heart

Jesus, seeing both hearts clearly, tells a simple story: Two people owed money to a lender. One owed about two years' wages, the other about two months' worth. Neither could pay, so the lender forgave both debts completely.

"Which one will love him more?" Jesus asks.

Simon answers correctly: "I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven."

"You have judged correctly," Jesus says.

Then comes the devastating comparison. Jesus turns to the woman and says to Simon: "Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet."

The Heart of the Matter

The profound truth embedded in this encounter is this: forgiveness comes first, and gratitude follows.

The woman didn't earn forgiveness through her worship. Her worship was the overflow of forgiveness already received. Something had happened in her heart before she ever walked into that courtyard. She had encountered the reality of who Jesus was—not just another teacher, but the Son of God with authority to forgive sins.

Simon, for all his religious knowledge and careful observance of the law, stood farther from grace than the "sinful woman." Why? Because he didn't think he needed forgiveness. He saw himself as righteous, perhaps even more righteous than Jesus. He approached the encounter with suspicion and judgment rather than humility and need.

The woman understood something Simon missed entirely: Jesus is not just a moral teacher to be studied or a prophet to be tested. He is the Savior, the one who bridges the impossible gap between humanity and God.

Fully God, Fully Man

When Jesus said to the woman, "Your sins are forgiven," the room erupted in whispers: "Who is this who even forgives sins?"

They understood exactly what Jesus was claiming. Only God can forgive sins. Yet here was Jesus, sitting at a dinner table like any other man, speaking with divine authority.

This is the mystery at the heart of the Christian faith: Jesus is fully God and fully man. Not half and half, but completely both. He possesses the divine power to forgive sins and the human ability to understand our weaknesses, our struggles, our deepest needs.

Only a human can substitute for human lives. Only God can take the wrath of God and survive. Jesus is the only one who can truly bridge the gap.

The Creator of water became thirsty on the cross. The Author of life died. The infinite God made a supercondescension, becoming what He wasn't while never ceasing to be what He was—all to save those who could never save themselves.

The Question That Remains

This ancient dinner party poses a question that echoes across the centuries to us today: Who is Jesus to you?

Is He just a teacher whose wisdom you admire from a distance? A moral guide you consult when convenient? Or is He Lord and Savior, worthy of everything you have and everything you are?

Our attitude toward Jesus reveals itself in our actions—not just in what we say or sing, but in how we live daily. The way we treat others, especially those society labels as "sinners," exposes what we truly believe about grace and forgiveness.

Do we approach Jesus like Simon—careful, observant, keeping Him at arm's length while we try to figure Him out? Or do we come like the woman—desperate, humble, pouring out everything at His feet because we know we need Him?

When Grace Is Truly Known

Here's the beautiful truth: when grace is genuinely understood, it doesn't stay quiet. It pours out in worship. It transforms attitudes. It changes how we see ourselves and others.

The woman's extravagant worship wasn't the cause of her forgiveness—it was the evidence of it. She loved much because she had been forgiven much.

Faith itself is a gift. From the Old Testament promises of new hearts to the New Testament declarations that salvation belongs to the Lord, Scripture consistently shows that our rescue begins and ends with God. We don't generate saving faith through our own effort. The Holy Spirit produces it in us, and Christ nourishes it.

This is why the emphasis must always remain on what Christ has done, not on what we bring to the table. We come with empty hands and receive everything.

The Invitation

The striking reality of this story is that the respectable religious leader ended up farther from grace than the notorious sinner. Not because his sins were worse, but because he didn't recognize his need.

Jesus doesn't turn people away. He welcomes those who come to Him, no matter their past, no matter their reputation. But He requires that we come honestly, acknowledging our need rather than our supposed righteousness.

So what does your attitude and action reveal about who you believe Jesus to be? When grace is truly known, truly received, it transforms everything. It compels us to pour out our alabaster jars, to worship with abandon, to love because we have been loved beyond measure.

The woman left that dinner party with words ringing in her ears: "Your faith has saved you. Go in peace."

Not her works. Not her worthiness. Her faith—a gift that connected her to the only One who could save.

That same invitation extends today. Come as you are. Bring your need, your brokenness, your most valuable possession. Jesus is still in the business of forgiving sins and transforming lives.

The only question is: Who is He to you?