You read the story (Luke 7:36-50) and, at first, it’s seems the main event is about a classic confrontation between a righteous, hypocritical Pharisee and the young Rabbi who has been stirring up things with His radical teaching and accompanying signs and wonders. There the two of them recline together . . . at the Pharisee’s house . . . around the dining table . . . host and guest. While there are servants and others in attendance, it is evident that the spotlight is one these two. Even when “she” arrives . . . it still seems to be very much about the two of them.

She had no right to be there . . . certainly not invited by the Pharisee, Simon . . . certainly not of the “class” of the other guests in attendance. But in she enters. And you sense that she enters with purpose as arrives with an alabaster flask of fragrant oil. There she stands at his feet . . . then she begins to weep . . . she then kneels, directing her tears such they fall on His feet . . . and then, she hunches over those feet, takes her hair and wipes away the tears and dirt from His feet . . . and she continues as she bows over those feet even further and gently presses her lips against those precious feet . . . finally, she opens up her offering of perfumed oil and pours it over those washed, wiped, and worshiped, feet.

But, because of the scene she causes, the attention turns back to the two men supping together. The young Rabbi knows the thoughts of religious veteran . . . not only is he judging the woman at Jesus’ feet . . . but he concludes that Jesus, Himself, isn’t much of a holy man, for, if He were, He “would know who and what manner of woman this is who is touching Him, for she is a sinner.” Then Jesus poses to the proud and self-righteous Simon a riddle of sorts. It’s a simple parable of a creditor who forgives one man a relatively small debt and forgives another a much bigger, pretty much unpayable, debt. “Tell Me, therefore,” Jesus asks Simon, “which of them will love the debt-forgiver more?” The answer’s obvious.

And, as Jesus reveals His take on the woman’s actions, you realize that the “main event” really hasn’t been about the confrontation between the two men. Sure, the parable . . . the answer . . . the teaching that Jesus forgives sins . . . it’s all very, very important stuff to be sure. But, as I hover over this passage, it seems to me it’s all about the feet.

A proper host would have given water for the guest’s feet . . . and welcomed the guest with a kiss on the cheek . . . and would have sought to refresh the guest by pouring some oil on his head. A welcome guest would have been welcomed from the feet up to the head. But for this woman, Jesus was more than a welcomed Visitor . . . He was a worshiped Savior. For her, this sinner woman, she desired Him more than just as a guest for lunch . . . she owned Him as the Lord of Lords. And so, for her, it never got beyond the feet. She washed His feet . . . she kissed His feet . . . she anointed His feet. If He would receive her, she would take the place of a disciple . . . at the feet of the Master.

And as I noodle on this, I can’t help but think how easy it is be like Simon. To sit, as it were, face to face with Jesus and debate Him . . . perhaps even disagree . . . or worse yet, judge Him . . . not directly with words . . . but indirectly with disobedience. Perhaps it’s easier to be like Simon than I’d care to admit. But shouldn’t I be more like the woman . . . isn’t that where it’s really happening . . . at the feet? To bring my tears . . . to His feet? To humble myself . . . at His feet? To offer up the sweet smelling savor of heart-felt adoration and worship . . . at His feet? I’m thinking so . . .

It occurs to me that if my focus is solely on the confrontation between the Pharisee and the Savior — as good as stuff as that is — I’m missing something. If I miss what’s happening at the Feet of the Savior, then I miss something of the heart of a sinner saved by grace . . . I miss something of the posture of a redeemed disciple of Christ . . . I miss something of the heart of worship. I don’t want to miss it. Father, lead me to the Feet . . . for His glory . . . amen.