“…she began to wet his feet with her tears.”  Luke 7:38

She crawled across the floor on her hands and knees, tears pouring down her face.  Desperation hung thick in the room, one more detail to which her husband was oblivious.  He grabbed his car keys and hastily packed bags in a single motion.  “Please, please…don’t leave me!” she cried again and again, reaching for the hem of his well-tailored slacks.  Without a backwards glance, he was gone.  What was left of her dignity and self-worth dissolved instantly in the tears pooled on the family’s kitchen floor. 

When I heard this story, my heart broke.  A good friend of mine saw this reality portrayed on a well-known talk show just last week.  He contacted me, knowing my own story carried eery similarities.  Ironically, just a few days later I received word from another friend of mine who is likewise struggling to glue the shattered pieces of her true story back together again.  I try to forget the pain sometimes, but all too often it comes back again through the stories of others.  The ache is almost tangible.  Somewhere in the midst of her frantic pleas I hear the echo of the question we all want answered:  “Will someone please love me?”

This is not a glamorous question, and I feel somewhat exposed in admitting this is what I secretly desire.  Still, I don’t believe I am alone.  We all long to be worthy of love, to believe that others see us as intriguing and worthwhile.  There are too many moments, however, when I believe I am anything BUT worthy.  I know the ugliness of my thoughts, motives and actions better than anyone else.  Even in my pursuit of love and acceptance, there is a sinister voice trying to convince me that any love offered to me is only offered in pretense — they don’t know the real me.   

There was another woman who found herself on a kitchen floor (Luke 7).  It wasn’t her home, but was the floor of a righteous, church leader.  A rumor had drawn her there, a rumor that a man named Jesus - Yeshua! - was going to be eating at this man’s house.  His name meant “God is salvation,” and if ever someone was in need of salvation, it was her.  She crawled her way into the righteous man’s kitchen, and made her way to the feet of Yeshua.  Pairs of angry, irritated eyes glared down, making her sink further to the dirt floor with the weight of their disapproval.  She absorbed their condemnation fully, knowing they were correct in their judgment.  A woman like her had no business being in a righteous man’s home.  Desperation pushed her forward. 

With a brief, hesitant glance, she noticed Yeshua’s eyes carried no hint of their anger or disgust.  Instead, gentleness radiated from every inch of his being, coupled with a sense of anticipation.  His kindness surprised her, and touched a place deep within she thought long dead.  Tears came immediately–hot, profuse, cleansing.  She assumed her place at his feet, where the steamy drops of her last bit of hope poured out unhindered on his bare toes.  She could not speak, but he heard her plea just the same:  “Please, please … will you love me?”

We are no different than this woman.  We each want love and acceptance, no strings attached.  And when we fail–and we will–we want forgiveness that knows no limits.  Yes, we are the same, except for one striking contrast:  After years of searching, she finally found the right pair of feet. 

My days are filled with this drive to “be enough,” to prove my worth & earn the acceptance of those around me.  I exhaust myself, fully aware of my shortcomings and ever trying to overcome.  I have lost count of the number of “feet” I have clutched, begging for acceptance, love, and security.  My tears have dropped on many a false love, and I have found myself on the floor without of shred of dignity or self-worth.  I valued another’s acceptance of me too much, as if it was the air I needed to breath.  And the rejection which followed nearly destroyed me.  When I collapsed on the floor in despair, my heart cried out:  Will someone please love me?  Ah, and then I remember.  Perhaps I’m clinging to the wrong set of feet again. 

Before whose feet do you kneel?  Whose love, approval and acceptance do you secretly crave?  There is only One who is undeterred by our desperation (Psalm 91:1-4, Psalm 95:417-19, Matthew 9:36).  Only One who knows us fully (Psalm 139, Isaiah 43:1).  And only One who has promised, “I love you. Completely.  And I’m not going anywhere.”  (Joshua 1:9)

Finally…the feet we’re looking for.