Writing Love
Millions of pens have attempted to capture love on paper – that mysterious, elusive bandit that steals our heart, messes with our mind and turns our whole world upside down.
Many have written stories of love’s power to overcome the worst its enemy can conjure. Tomes of undying love story pack dusty shelves in every corner of the world’s libraries and still cannot tell the whole.
One story, tucked away in a few paragraphs of a chapter penned by Saint Luke, tells of a love that even cupid cannot match. It’s the story of a woman who was left off the guest list to a very prominent dinner. Though few details are available, it could have happened like this:
She followed him around town all day. Shrouded to hide her identity, she kept her eye on his every move, marveling as he strongly opposed the religious leaders who challenged him at every street corner. To her, it was obvious they craved his power and that their hatred of him flowed from jealousy, so she was quite shocked when he accepted an invitation to one of their homes for dinner. They were the reason she stayed shrouded in public.
Only days ago she saw him preaching a strange new law, a law of forgiveness – a law of loving one’s enemies. In sweltering heat, a multitude had gathered on the mount where the prophet began his debut sermon. Every word from his mouth marched out with such audacity that lies fled from his presence in fear.
Rumor had it that he was a local carpenter’s son who had left his father’s business to preach the love of God and everyone was talking about his radical beliefs.
It was on that mount that hope had found her. It was in his teaching that day that she stopped running from her past and was determined to let him know how grateful she was for that freedom.
The dinner was more of a set-up than anything. The Master’s disciples were confused as to why he would even eat with those whom he so vehemently opposed, but they didn’t question him.
He had only been reclining at the Pharisee’s table momentarily when she boldly entered the home and fell, unashamed, weeping at his feet. The room grew silent. The Pharisee was appalled at the intrusion, but closely watched his guest, itching for an opportunity to trap him.
Dropping to the floor, she drew the shroud from her head and her hair fell around her shoulders as recklessly as her tears fell on his feet. She wiped them with her hair and then poured fragrant oil from an alabaster vase, anointing her Savior’s feet without a word.
The dinner host smirked.
This man, if he were a prophet, he thought, would know who and what manner of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner. Little did he know he was entertaining the Son of God.
Though he knew the man’s thoughts, Jesus used an illustration to expose them and then delivered one of the timeliest truths of the universe.
“Do you see this woman?” he asked, “I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has washed my feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head.”
The Pharisee’s skin was red with anger as he stared into eyes of holy fire, “…but a person who is forgiven little shows only little love.”
On earth we write love on paper, but God, the Author of life, writes love on hearts.
