You can read the Biblical story here.
This is where I place myself in the tale:
I’ve been invited to Simon’s for dinner. I’m pleased because I hear he’s got a wonderful cook and his home is among the finest. All the best people show up at Simon’s.
I’m reclining at table, enjoying the wine and company when silence falls. All eyes are on the entrance. What is she doing here? I know who she is. Anyone could tell by her clothing what kind of woman she is. This isn’t the place for her. How dare she?
I’ve worked so hard to be good enough, to be accepted. I’ve done all I can to live right and here she is, just walking in as if she belongs here. It takes a lot of effort to be as good as I’ve been. To do everything just right, hoping it will be enough.
Look at Jesus, acting as if she’s done nothing wrong. He’s even holding her up as an example. Doesn’t he see her shame?
I put on my best dress. I fix my hair and face just right. And I decide to take along my prized possession–the one thing that proves my value. Something that not everyone has, the thing that really makes me special.
I walk to the door, ready to impress. I’m not invited, but I know they’ll accept me and love me. They have to, it’s what I live for.
As I cross the threshold, a silence falls upon the room. All eyes are on me and my heart stops. Every eye is shouting the things I most fear are true. “She’s not good enough.” “She’s not a good enough wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend.” “She’s not a good enough writer, artist, Christian.” “Everything she does falls short. She’s a failure. She doesn’t belong.”
Every eye reflects back my shame. My carefully crafted disguise has failed.
Then I see another pair of eyes and my heart pounds. These eyes hold no condemnation, no disgust. These eyes are full of love, absolute acceptance, and respect. And I know that he is not fooled by my layers of pretense. I understand that he sees the shame I wear as an undergarment, but he sees beyond that, into the depths of who I am and he approves. Adoration flows from his eyes to mine.
What can I do in the caress of that gaze? I fall apart. I drop the costume, and I take my prized possession, my inferior badge of worth and break it at his feet. I pour out all that I’ve held to as proof that I am worth loving and surrender it to his perfect love.
And with his words, “Your sins are forgiven” I know he’s saying, “I see you, not your sin. Stop trying to cover them yourself, there’s no need.”