When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a sinner.”– Luke 7:39
Luke places this moment inside an ordinary dinner and exposes something that’s anything but ordinary. Jesus is eating at the home of Simon the Pharisee, who is respectable, religious, and confident of his standing. Then into that setting walks a woman who Luke simply calls “a sinner.” There is no explanation, no defense. Just tears, perfume, and a genuine display of heartfelt devotion.
The story then turns on what doesn’t get said out loud.
“When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself…” (v.39)
That’s the danger zone. He said to himself. No public accusation, no confrontation made. Just quiet calculations in Simon’s mind.
If Jesus were really a prophet…
If He knew who this woman was…
If holiness worked the way I think it does….
Simon doesn’t compare himself to Jesus. He compares himself to her. And by doing so, he feels safe. He feels better about himself.
That’s familiar.
We may not say it out loud, but we think it: At least I’m not like that. At least my sins are more controlled, more respectable, and less visible. At least I know better. At least I’ve stayed within the lines.
And in that private comparison, something tragic happens – we diminish our own desperate need for grace.
Jesus responds by telling a short parable about two debtors. One owes a little. One owes a lot. Both are forgiven. Then comes the simple but devastating question: Which one will love more?
Simon answers correctly, but he still doesn’t see himself.
The issue was never whether the woman had sinned more. The issue was whether Simon understood the extent of his own debt. He didn’t see himself as someone deeply forgiven – just someone properly behaved. That was the difference.
The woman knew exactly why she was there. She wasn’t performing or trying to prove anything. She was responding. Her tears weren’t theater, they were honest. Gratitude does that. When forgiveness is real, love follows naturally. I’ve experienced this, and perhaps you have too.
Jesus makes it plain as day: “Her many sins have been forgiven – as her great love has shown.” And not that her love earned forgiveness, but that forgiveness produced love.
Simon, on the other hand, offered Jesus no water, no kiss, no oil. Not because he was cruel, but because he didn’t think he needed much forgiveness. Small debt. Small gratitude. Small love.
This is where verse 39 lands on us.
The most dangerous judgments we make are often the quiet ones… the ones we never say, the ones that let us feel morally superior without ever wrestling with the cross. When we measure righteousness by comparison, we stop measuring it by Christ.
And when we do that, the cross becomes smaller.
But the truth is, no matter how clean our record looks next to someone else’s, our debt to Jesus is still enormous! Every act of pride, every hidden motive, every sin we excuse because it’s familiar – it all required the same blood. The woman knew it, but Simon didn’t.
Jesus challenged him to see: to see the woman rightly and to see himself honestly… to see forgiveness not as a reward, but as mercy.
Those who know the extent of their debt don’t look around for comparisons. They look at Jesus – and respond with love.
Former Blackout Artist 