Jesus turns to her and says, your sins are forgiven. Then: go in peace. Literally, go into peace — a peace this woman had not known in years.
Notice the order, because everything depends on it. His acceptance produces her love. She does not purchase his acceptance with her love, and he does not wait for her to love him first. The tears and the flask are the response, not the price.
Every one of us has something. An episode, a chapter, something we did or failed to do — and if it were put on a screen in front of everyone who knows us, we would leave in haste and never come back.
So use your imagination. Stand a little distance from a horrid hill outside Jerusalem, looking at three crosses. On the middle one is a man dying for sins he never committed, the most sinless person who ever lived. You are standing there wearing your guilt like an ugly black cloak. All you can see about yourself is the ugliness of it, and all you can see about him is that he is spotless.
As his blood flows out, you feel your guilt and your shame lifting off you and being drawn into him. The holiest man who ever lived becomes the darkest, filthiest thing in the universe, because he is taking your sins and mine and the sins of the whole world onto those battered shoulders. He does not only bear our sin. He becomes it.
And as he grows darker, you are becoming white as snow.
You were made for more than shame. Go into peace — and take somebody with you.
Reflect
What would you leave the room over, if it were on a screen? Bring that.
Pray
Jesus, you became my sin and handed me your righteousness. I am not going to argue with that trade any longer. Let me go into peace, and take somebody with me. Amen.