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Jesus' words in this passage speak to something we all long to hear: "Your sins are forgiven." This is not merely about a moment of relief, but about the deep joy, freedom, and love that comes from knowing, in the most ultimate sense, that all is forgiven.
We meet a woman in Jesus' story who has lived a sinful life. We don't know her name or her backstory, but we know three things about her: she has sinned much—with a sustained public reputation for overt sin. She has been forgiven much. And, as a consequence, she loves Jesus very much.
You can see this love in how she crashes the dinner party uninvited, willing to overcome social embarrassment just to see Jesus. You can see it in how profoundly moved she is—weeping so intensely she drenches Jesus' feet with her tears and wipes them with her hair. And you see it in how she does something deeply humiliating and unpleasant: she takes Jesus' feet, unwashed and coated in dirt and sweat from the hot, dusty roads, and puts her lips to them, kisses them, and pours out perfume over them.
This isn't a momentary explosion of emotion. The alabaster jar she brought suggests she arrived prepared, having thought this through deliberately. She has crossed every boundary—social shame, humiliation, hygiene—in order to pour out her heart in an outrageously vivid display of love for Jesus Christ.
Jesus explains her actions through a simple parable:
Two people owed money to a certain money lender. One owed 500 denarii and the other 50. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?
Simon answers correctly: the one who had the bigger debt forgiven. And that's exactly right. The point is not that we should all be more expressive or emotionally uninhibited. Rather, the star of this parable is the generous money lender who released both debtors from all their debts. His lavish willingness to forgive is what captures our attention.
When we see this woman pouring out her love over Jesus, liberated and joyful and full of love, we should look at Jesus and think: I want him to be my Lord. I want to know that joy and that freedom that comes with knowing that all of my debts are paid, all of my sins are forgiven.
Jesus says to her: "Your sins are forgiven." If you are here and you are not a Christian, Jesus says these words to you if you will come to him and say sorry, if you will put your trust in him. That simple act of the mind and heart will be met by the God and judge of the universe saying to you, "All is forgiven. Your sins are forgiven."
But how many of us who are Christians really know this deep down? We carry a sense of fear that maybe we're not quite forgiven of everything. We carry a sense of distance from God, wondering whether he really loves us. We need to hear those words ringing fresh in our ears and hearts: Your sins are forgiven.
In the film The Grand Budapest Hotel, the concierge Gustave makes a profound observation: "Rudeness is merely an expression of fear. People fear they won't get what they want. The most dreadful and unattractive person only needs to be loved and they will open up like a flower."
Isn't that true with the gospel of Christ? It is the forgiving love of God revealed in Jesus Christ that opens us up like a flower—no matter how worn, how tired, how battered and bruised. The notorious sinner receives the forgiving love of God and opens up like a flower as a result. She loves much because she knows she has been forgiven much.
We live in a culture that constantly tells us to self-improve, to perfect our online brand, to maximize our looks, to endlessly slim down. Advertising desperately tries to feed our insecurities and lower our self-esteem in order to capitalize on our felt need for improvement. There's an essay in The New Yorker by Jia Tolentino titled "Always be optimizing"—and that captures the relentless pressure we face.
But this focus on self-optimization turns us inward and leads to anxiety and exhaustion. The only thing that will open us up like flowers and make us beautiful on the inside, filling us with peace and joy and love, is to know Jesus saying to us: Your sins are forgiven.
Have you ever been invited somewhere and discovered that the host doesn't really seem keen on you being there? Simon the Pharisee appears to be that kind of host. Jesus gets an invitation, but everything Simon does suggests he doesn't really want Jesus there at all.
Luke calls Simon "the Pharisee" four times in quick succession—in verses 36, 37, 39, and 40—which is intentional. Luke wants us to notice that Simon belongs to a group with a strict interpretation of the law and a rigorous view of how to apply it to life. Throughout Luke's gospel, this group has been criticizing Jesus precisely for associating closely with sinners. They accuse him of blasphemy and of breaking the Sabbath. Just before our passage, Jesus sums up their view of him: "a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners."
So we already know that Jesus' host is part of the group that does not like Jesus' generosity toward sinners. And while Simon invited him, his hospitality seems to stop right there.
Verses 44-46 tell us three basic customs Simon failed to supply:
Water for his feet (verse 44): Not something we tend to offer guests today, but basic good manners in the hot, dusty Near East.
A kiss of greeting (verse 45): A cultural equivalent to a warm handshake or hug—a simple acknowledgment of welcome. Simon offers none of this.
Oil for his head (verse 46): A simple custom for showing kindness and hospitality to a guest.
Withholding all three things is a very open snub to Jesus. It probably would have been better if Simon hadn't invited him at all rather than invite him over to treat him this way.
Simon's assessment of Jesus comes in verse 39: "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."
But the problem isn't really Simon's judgment of her. Luke already calls her a sinner. She herself expresses remorse. Jesus affirms that she is a sinner—his forgiveness presupposes it. The problem is twofold:
First, Simon doesn't seem to think that he is a sinner. He seems to think it's perfectly fine for him to sit at the table with Jesus while this woman shouldn't. He doesn't view himself as a forgiven sinner.
Second, Simon assumes the only appropriate response for Jesus when met by a sinner is to drive them away. His logic is: if Jesus were a prophet and knew who she was, surely he would push her off. How many people think that's what God is like? Our instinctive sense is that God's response to sinners should be to drive them away, banish them, push them off. And if we're being honest, many of us think that if God were to do what he would really like to do, that's what he would do to us as well.
But the parable in verses 41-43 makes the opposite point entirely. God is the merciful money lender. His nature is generous love. And even Simon understands the punchline: the one forgiven most loves the most.
Jesus' point to Simon is that the same is true in reverse: "He who is forgiven little loves little." And isn't that true in Simon's case? Here is a man who doesn't view himself as a forgiven sinner but thinks he is immediately worthy of being at Jesus' table while this other woman isn't. He is forgiven little. His lack of experience of the love and mercy of God is reflected in the lack of love and mercy he shows to this woman.
If the love of God takes the ugliest person and opens them up like a flower, then the refusal and non-recognition of that love leads us to shrivel up.
The lesson for us is this: Never ever lose sight of your need for Jesus. Never ever lose sight of your need for Jesus.
You might do great things for him. Perhaps this summer you've served at a summer camp, or volunteered on a mission trip. Perhaps you lead a small group here or volunteer in one of the many wonderful ministries at St. Ebbe's. Let's never think that we are earning brownie points with God or twisting his arm to make him love us. No matter who we are and how much we've done for Christ or ever will do, we must never move beyond understanding ourselves as forgiven sinners.
Are you a mature Christian? I hope so—that would be wonderful. But much more importantly, remember: you are a forgiven sinner. Are you a godly person? I hope so. But never forget: you are a forgiven sinner. It's when we lose sight of that truth that our own reservoirs of love run dry.
Consider Jérôme Kerviel, a trader who worked for Société Générale. Starting in 2000, he had a disappointing career for years. In 2006, he began making small fraudulent trades to make up for it. These trades grew bigger and bigger until he became the most indebted man on the planet, owing 4.9 billion euros to his former employer. The most indebted man in world history.
It's incomprehensible to imagine that unpayable, unshiftable burden. Think of the pressure on the mind, the anxiety, the fear, the sleepless nights. But the reality is that each one of us, spiritually, is Jérôme Kerviel. The record of our sin is real. Our indebtedness to our creator is real. And Jesus is not just a nice guy who affirms us and says it doesn't really matter. When he says in verse 48, "Your sins are forgiven," and that woman gets all that relief, joy, freedom, and love, it's because he took our debt, her debt, our burden, our fear, our punishment upon himself on the cross and paid it in full.
People often ask: How can I love God more? It's a wonderful question, and it's easy to give a bad answer: try harder, be more holy, do more things. But do you know what the real answer is, according to Jesus? See just how indebted you are. See just how forgiven you are. Because the one who has been forgiven much will love much.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
Jesus' words in this passage speak to something we all long to hear: "Your sins are forgiven." This is not merely about a moment of relief, but about the deep joy, freedom, and love that comes from knowing, in the most ultimate sense, that all is forgiven.
We meet a woman in Jesus' story who has lived a sinful life. We don't know her name or her backstory, but we know three things about her: she has sinned much—with a sustained public reputation for overt sin. She has been forgiven much. And, as a consequence, she loves Jesus very much.
You can see this love in how she crashes the dinner party uninvited, willing to overcome social embarrassment just to see Jesus. You can see it in how profoundly moved she is—weeping so intensely she drenches Jesus' feet with her tears and wipes them with her hair. And you see it in how she does something deeply humiliating and unpleasant: she takes Jesus' feet, unwashed and coated in dirt and sweat from the hot, dusty roads, and puts her lips to them, kisses them, and pours out perfume over them.
This isn't a momentary explosion of emotion. The alabaster jar she brought suggests she arrived prepared, having thought this through deliberately. She has crossed every boundary—social shame, humiliation, hygiene—in order to pour out her heart in an outrageously vivid display of love for Jesus Christ.
Jesus explains her actions through a simple parable:
Two people owed money to a certain money lender. One owed 500 denarii and the other 50. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?
Simon answers correctly: the one who had the bigger debt forgiven. And that's exactly right. The point is not that we should all be more expressive or emotionally uninhibited. Rather, the star of this parable is the generous money lender who released both debtors from all their debts. His lavish willingness to forgive is what captures our attention.
When we see this woman pouring out her love over Jesus, liberated and joyful and full of love, we should look at Jesus and think: I want him to be my Lord. I want to know that joy and that freedom that comes with knowing that all of my debts are paid, all of my sins are forgiven.
Jesus says to her: "Your sins are forgiven." If you are here and you are not a Christian, Jesus says these words to you if you will come to him and say sorry, if you will put your trust in him. That simple act of the mind and heart will be met by the God and judge of the universe saying to you, "All is forgiven. Your sins are forgiven."
But how many of us who are Christians really know this deep down? We carry a sense of fear that maybe we're not quite forgiven of everything. We carry a sense of distance from God, wondering whether he really loves us. We need to hear those words ringing fresh in our ears and hearts: Your sins are forgiven.
In the film The Grand Budapest Hotel, the concierge Gustave makes a profound observation: "Rudeness is merely an expression of fear. People fear they won't get what they want. The most dreadful and unattractive person only needs to be loved and they will open up like a flower."
Isn't that true with the gospel of Christ? It is the forgiving love of God revealed in Jesus Christ that opens us up like a flower—no matter how worn, how tired, how battered and bruised. The notorious sinner receives the forgiving love of God and opens up like a flower as a result. She loves much because she knows she has been forgiven much.
We live in a culture that constantly tells us to self-improve, to perfect our online brand, to maximize our looks, to endlessly slim down. Advertising desperately tries to feed our insecurities and lower our self-esteem in order to capitalize on our felt need for improvement. There's an essay in The New Yorker by Jia Tolentino titled "Always be optimizing"—and that captures the relentless pressure we face.
But this focus on self-optimization turns us inward and leads to anxiety and exhaustion. The only thing that will open us up like flowers and make us beautiful on the inside, filling us with peace and joy and love, is to know Jesus saying to us: Your sins are forgiven.
Have you ever been invited somewhere and discovered that the host doesn't really seem keen on you being there? Simon the Pharisee appears to be that kind of host. Jesus gets an invitation, but everything Simon does suggests he doesn't really want Jesus there at all.
Luke calls Simon "the Pharisee" four times in quick succession—in verses 36, 37, 39, and 40—which is intentional. Luke wants us to notice that Simon belongs to a group with a strict interpretation of the law and a rigorous view of how to apply it to life. Throughout Luke's gospel, this group has been criticizing Jesus precisely for associating closely with sinners. They accuse him of blasphemy and of breaking the Sabbath. Just before our passage, Jesus sums up their view of him: "a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners."
So we already know that Jesus' host is part of the group that does not like Jesus' generosity toward sinners. And while Simon invited him, his hospitality seems to stop right there.
Verses 44-46 tell us three basic customs Simon failed to supply:
Water for his feet (verse 44): Not something we tend to offer guests today, but basic good manners in the hot, dusty Near East.
A kiss of greeting (verse 45): A cultural equivalent to a warm handshake or hug—a simple acknowledgment of welcome. Simon offers none of this.
Oil for his head (verse 46): A simple custom for showing kindness and hospitality to a guest.
Withholding all three things is a very open snub to Jesus. It probably would have been better if Simon hadn't invited him at all rather than invite him over to treat him this way.
Simon's assessment of Jesus comes in verse 39: "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."
But the problem isn't really Simon's judgment of her. Luke already calls her a sinner. She herself expresses remorse. Jesus affirms that she is a sinner—his forgiveness presupposes it. The problem is twofold:
First, Simon doesn't seem to think that he is a sinner. He seems to think it's perfectly fine for him to sit at the table with Jesus while this woman shouldn't. He doesn't view himself as a forgiven sinner.
Second, Simon assumes the only appropriate response for Jesus when met by a sinner is to drive them away. His logic is: if Jesus were a prophet and knew who she was, surely he would push her off. How many people think that's what God is like? Our instinctive sense is that God's response to sinners should be to drive them away, banish them, push them off. And if we're being honest, many of us think that if God were to do what he would really like to do, that's what he would do to us as well.
But the parable in verses 41-43 makes the opposite point entirely. God is the merciful money lender. His nature is generous love. And even Simon understands the punchline: the one forgiven most loves the most.
Jesus' point to Simon is that the same is true in reverse: "He who is forgiven little loves little." And isn't that true in Simon's case? Here is a man who doesn't view himself as a forgiven sinner but thinks he is immediately worthy of being at Jesus' table while this other woman isn't. He is forgiven little. His lack of experience of the love and mercy of God is reflected in the lack of love and mercy he shows to this woman.
If the love of God takes the ugliest person and opens them up like a flower, then the refusal and non-recognition of that love leads us to shrivel up.
The lesson for us is this: Never ever lose sight of your need for Jesus. Never ever lose sight of your need for Jesus.
You might do great things for him. Perhaps this summer you've served at a summer camp, or volunteered on a mission trip. Perhaps you lead a small group here or volunteer in one of the many wonderful ministries at St. Ebbe's. Let's never think that we are earning brownie points with God or twisting his arm to make him love us. No matter who we are and how much we've done for Christ or ever will do, we must never move beyond understanding ourselves as forgiven sinners.
Are you a mature Christian? I hope so—that would be wonderful. But much more importantly, remember: you are a forgiven sinner. Are you a godly person? I hope so. But never forget: you are a forgiven sinner. It's when we lose sight of that truth that our own reservoirs of love run dry.
Consider Jérôme Kerviel, a trader who worked for Société Générale. Starting in 2000, he had a disappointing career for years. In 2006, he began making small fraudulent trades to make up for it. These trades grew bigger and bigger until he became the most indebted man on the planet, owing 4.9 billion euros to his former employer. The most indebted man in world history.
It's incomprehensible to imagine that unpayable, unshiftable burden. Think of the pressure on the mind, the anxiety, the fear, the sleepless nights. But the reality is that each one of us, spiritually, is Jérôme Kerviel. The record of our sin is real. Our indebtedness to our creator is real. And Jesus is not just a nice guy who affirms us and says it doesn't really matter. When he says in verse 48, "Your sins are forgiven," and that woman gets all that relief, joy, freedom, and love, it's because he took our debt, her debt, our burden, our fear, our punishment upon himself on the cross and paid it in full.
People often ask: How can I love God more? It's a wonderful question, and it's easy to give a bad answer: try harder, be more holy, do more things. But do you know what the real answer is, according to Jesus? See just how indebted you are. See just how forgiven you are. Because the one who has been forgiven much will love much.
Continue exploring
Connected by scripture or shared themes.
