A Woman, Her Worth (Luke 7 Woman: Diary Entry #2)
“And there was a woman of the city who was a [sinner]; and when she learned that He was reclining at the table in the Pharisee’s house, she brought an alabaster vial of perfume.” Luke 7:37
I met him on a chilly January morning, after church service. I was intrigued. He was smart, fun and down-to-earth. He had it all together. He was the man I wrote to God about in diaries past. I had never met anyone like him. The kind of man your mother prays for you to meet and your father admires. He was a brilliant teacher of the Word of God and yet open. At least that’s how I felt.
Our relationship developed over time. Friendly exchanges, sharing laughs, talking about disappointments and things we wished we could change. It soon blossomed into more. There was an inexplicable understanding between the two of us. Despite all of this, I had doubts and plenty of insecurities. I suddenly felt inferior. Someone like him could never want someone like me. But, he did, for now.
His opinions, attention, admiration, and endorsement quickly became intoxicating. Vying for his acceptance and love, I compromised myself. A little rip here. A little scuff there. I trusted who he was and allowed more than I should have. I was a broken piece expecting validation from another broken piece.
Truth is, I often measured my worth by the number of friends I had, relationships I could keep, and the level of success I could reach. A fragile rubric it was, however, it was all I knew. Completely unaware of my worth, even still, not totally sure; I searched for validation from external circumstances. A girl from section 8 housing and food stamps, trying to prove her worth to the world and herself. What an ugly cycle it became. I wore my shortcomings on my sleeve.
The rubric I used for validation was just as flawed as I was. Sin was and always will be The Great Divide between Creator and Creation. And in that disconnection, a hole is formed in us, a hole that leaves room for worthlessness to creep in and the need to prove oneself with superficial strategies.
Creation receives true validation from its Creator alone.
An immensely powerful feeling, worthlessness, is. Its affects creep in over time; a little rip here, a small scratch there. It seeps into the open crevices of a fractured creature’s being. Slowly but surely, whatever its victim [was] is no longer. A parasite attempting to deplete its host of all virtue. Sin mirrors the same affect.
She was a sinner. A pariah. A woman of the city, someone beyond the limits of God’s forgiveness. She was an inward and outward expression of the conflict she faced. Her life, as is mine, a struggling quest for authentication, eagerly wanting to be established as acceptable. A struggle that only the Savior can reconcile.
To not know or understand who you are and whose you are; will leave you ignorant to your true value. Ignorance to your true value will then, leave you dormant to your purpose.
What brought the woman from the city to Jesus that night? Had she grown weary of the persistent gnawing of worthlessness and heartache? Had her search for validity via sorted devices prove unproductive? I ask myself the same questions. What’s leading me to the Savior? How did I reach this place? Had it also been the gnawing of worthlessness, the desperation for validation and the thirst for wholeness?
Why did it take so much? Phillip Yancey in, Where Is God When It Hurts? writes: “—the existence of suffering on this earth is, I believe, a scream to all of us that something is wrong. It halts us in our tracks and forces us to consider other values.”
There’s nothing more griping than the pain of a broken heart. Now, I am understanding, to a degree, that these pangs are to call my attention to something, Someone, more qualified to establish my worth.
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