By: Darrelyn L. Tutt
You could have heard a pin drop,
When I walked into the room;
As voices stilled the air was filled,
Instead by my perfume.
Conscious of the awkward glares,
And whispers I could hear;
I knew I didn’t deserve to be,
Beside a man so pure.
Yet here I was … right at His feet,
An overwhelming awe;
Replaced my fears as silent tears,
Fell on the feet of God.
I kissed His feet, and then I wept,
And wiped them with my hair;
Oh grace divine… that knew my kind,
Yet let me linger there.
And with an alabaster jar,
Of oil and perfume;
I lavished all I had on Him,
Until it filled the room.
Then looking up in Jesus’ face,
It seemed that time was stilled;
For something deep within my soul,
That hungered … had been filled.
He was Jesus, I the harlot,
In one moment He defined,
Grace to me, a scarlet sinner,
Love to fill a heart like mine.
Mercy given to the hungry,
Love that pierces to the soul;
There is pardon for the sinner,
There is grace to make us whole.
“And behold, a woman in the city, who was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at the table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of fragrant oil; and stood at His feet behind Him weeping, and she began to wash His feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head; and she kissed His feet and anointed them with the fragrant oil….
Therefore I say to you, her sins which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much.
But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little.”