I’m sure like me, you’ve experienced one of those excruciatingly uncomfortable moments, when suddenly everything and everyone in the room stops and it feels like all the air has been sucked out by a giant-sized foot pump in reverse. You know the type of moments I mean? When you accidentally knock the family heirloom off the mantelpiece, or your grandad starts saying deeply offensive and inappropriate things to your friend from another country, or in polite conversation you confuse a person’s wife for his mother! It’s those “please let there be a trap door right under my feet” moments. It’s those “please would someone get the defibrillator because I think my heart has just stopped” moments. I’m guessing you’re getting the picture!
However, last week, the agonizing pain and suffocating embarrassment went to a whole new level. Let me tell you about it. I was at a party but it wasn’t just any sort of party; it was for a very special guest, but I’ll get to that later. Anyhow, this was a party for nice people, wearing nicely made clothes in a nicely decorated private function room. Looking round the table, the good and the great from local business, education, politics and religious communities were all present. It was kind of a “who’s who” of the movers and shakers of this part of the world. I’m not quite sure why I had been invited but I took the opportunity and was enjoying being present in a world that I’m not accustomed to.
After we’d emptied the champagne glasses, we took our seats around this amazing table that looked like it had been prepared for a king or queen. Sat in the place of honour was our special guest who we were all very excited to see, hear from and, to be honest, try and get a selfie with! It was the perfect start to what I anticipated was going to be the perfect evening.
However, things quickly took an unexpected and quite disturbing change in direction as the doors to the private function room burst open. Stood in the doorway was not a nicely dressed woman just turning up late for this wonderful party. No, she was clearly an interloper, trespassing on carpet and custom that she was not accustomed to. She didn’t have a long ball gown that discreetly enhanced her physical features. Oh no! Her skirt and blouse were designed to flaunt and reveal as much as possible. As she entered the room, she tottered on precariously high stilettos. There’s no need to say what everyone was thinking because I’m guessing you might be thinking the same!
Everyone in the room held their breath. Some almost choked because, as a client of hers, they had never expected to be confronted by her amongst such respectful company. Everyone else just froze – ‘Why was she here’? Was this some cheap joke that had gone badly wrong?’ Just looking at her, everyone knew she did not belong in these type of surroundings.
Inside, I was longing and pleading for the owner of the restaurant, along with a forceful kitchen-hand, to quietly escort her out to where she really belonged. However, the searing embarrassment was just getting started? What could possibly make such an interruption to the evening even worse? Well, this woman, who I’m sure was under the influence of some mind-altering substance, stumbled straight towards the guest of honour. Before anyone had the chance to react, she was at his side and throwing her arms around him. At that moment I actually clasped my hands over my mouth like a little child, because I feared a screech may escape. There for all to see was this awful contrast. The guest of honour, dressed in all his finery, was cloaked and enveloped by this ‘scarlet woman’. Looking around the room, all I could see was faces filled with shock, horror and fear!
However, that’s when things started to turn really, really strange. You see, when I looked at this shameful woman, her face was not filled with shock, horror or fear, but rather brokenness and love. Through the mascara-stained tears, you could see living and breathing awe on display. She was not bothered by our embarrassment or even our open hostility. No, she was preoccupied with what was happening right there between her and our guest of honour. And that’s when I took quick glance at our guest. I was expecting anger, embarrassment and revulsion to be etched all over his face. However, I couldn’t have been further from the truth. His face, kind of glowed with love, and forgiveness and seemed to be emanating with a healing and restoring power that was … well … scandalously enthralling!
Here in this clash of two worlds, some strange power was at work. It was like her shame was being eaten up by forgiveness and her brokenness was being tenderly repaired by invisible healing hands. What was even more sickening for me, in light of this transformation that was taking place at the head of the dinner table, was that suddenly, all of the nicety that I had been clinging to, now looked shabby, threadbare and oh-so-tacky! It was like beauty had switched sides and this gate-crasher was now the one who truly belonged. I want to call it … well … enacted grace, but even now, a week later, I’m not totally sure I understand what was really going on at that dinner table.
(based on Luke 7:36-50)
