Spontaneous worship

Part four of nine

Luke 7:36–50

Can it be all right when everything goes wrong?

How would you feel? You’re invited for an evening meal. You arrive on time, ring the bell, wait. You know what to expect. The door will open. Greetings will be exchanged. Your host will take your coat and hang it with care. You’ll be led into the living room to relax before the meal or perhaps directly into the dining room, where a fine dinner will be served.

But what if everything went wrong? The door swings open, but your host is already turning away as he shouts over his shoulder: “We’ve eaten already. Help yourself. We’re watching a video in the den.” Unthinkable!

That is a rough comparison to what happened the day Jesus was invited to the Pharisee’s home. Two people broke all the cultural rules that day.

The first was Simon, the host. No water to wash Jesus’ tired, dusty feet – that meant no symbol of service to the worthy guest. No oil for Jesus’ head – that meant no soothing ointment, no fragrance, and above all, no respectful honour. No kiss of greeting – that meant no sign of affection and acceptance. Unthinkable!

Ignoring the rules

The meal begins. And then the woman enters. Her reputation is well-known and it is not good. She carries a bottle of perfume, either a tool of her trade or a luxury purchased with its proceeds. She knows the cultural rules. To be present is not forbidden, but she must stay at the sidelines, certainly not approach the guest, certainly not touch the guest, certainly not wash his feet with tears, then let down her hair and wipe them dry, most certainly not kiss them affectionately, over and over again and then anoint them with her fragrant ointment. Unthinkable!

Simon is horrified. I suspect he is frantically signalling his servants to get the woman away. Then a smug grin pushes his scowl aside. “Well it proves one thing anyway. This man is no prophet. If he were, he’d know what sort of woman is touching him!”

But Jesus knows. He knows what Simon is thinking. And He knows what sort of woman she is. He knows what Simon has never experienced – that those forgiven much, love deeply. He knows what the woman longs to hear: “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

That day everything went terribly wrong. I wonder if Simon blatantly ignored all the cultural rules, or just “forgot” to honour his guest. Maybe his main goal was honour-seeking. (“Guess what! I had the famous teacher over to my house!”) Perhaps it was fault-finding. (“Let’s just see if he’s the great sensation everyone thinks he is!”)

I wonder if the woman walked in planning to wash Jesus’ feet with her tears and dry them with her hair. Perhaps she just came to anoint Jesus. But suddenly her love for this man who accepted her unconditionally overwhelmed her. The floodgate of tears opened. Suddenly her hair was down and she was kissing and caressing His feet. She had had such good intentions, but everything had gone terribly wrong. She was doing something that horrified everyone in the room . . . except Jesus.

Departing from the script

Something also went terribly wrong the Sunday I preached on this text. I had carefully scripted my sermon. I would explain the text in the light of the first century culture and locate its message in the larger context of Luke’s Gospel. I would speak of honouring Jesus, arguing that, at a minimum, we should honour Jesus in the expected ways (basin, oil, kiss . . . or in our situation, singing worship songs from the heart, attending to the Word.) My sermon would also call for expressions of spontaneous worship (tears, hair, perfume . . . or in our case, risk-taking, sharing from the heart, expressing worship with more than traditional rituals.) My concluding applications – six carefully worded points – would challenge the congregation to specific actions in obedience to the teaching of this text.

I was delivering the well-planned sermon. I had nearly reached the concluding challenges. Suddenly I realized something was terribly wrong. The text was calling for spontaneous responses of love that honour Jesus but my sermon prescribed exactly how we should do it. It just didn’t fit!

I knew in a flash I had to abandon my script. I remember saying something like this instead. “This text challenges us not to be shocked if our worship forms depart from the usual, the predictable. It challenges us to follow our heart. How do you want to respond to Jesus?”

I had no idea what would happen. My risk-taking conclusion was my spontaneous response. I wondered what the hearers’ spontaneous responses would be. Now it was up to God’s Spirit.

And that is who took over. Greg jumped to his feet and poured out his heart as genuinely as the sinful woman had poured out her oil. Sandra was next. Soon we were singing worship songs, hearing testimonies, rejoicing that God had also forgiven us much.

The sermon had gone terribly wrong – and terribly right – just like the dinner in Simon’s house.

For reflection:

• When have I experienced unpredictable or even shocking ways of honouring Jesus?
• How can I express my love and gratitude to Jesus right now?

Tim Geddert teaches New Testament at MB Biblical Seminary, Fresno, Cal.

The series continues in the next issue. The series began in the Sept. 24 issue.