Do You See This Woman? The Power of Being Truly Seen

In a world obsessed with labels, categories, and snap judgments, there’s something profoundly moving about being truly seen. Not evaluated. Not categorized. Not dismissed. But seen—as a person, with a name, with a story, with inherent worth.

This is the heart of a remarkable encounter recorded in Luke 7:36-50, where a dinner party becomes the stage for one of the most beautiful demonstrations of grace in all of Scripture.

An Unexpected Guest at an Unexpected Party

The scene opens with an unlikely setting: Jesus dining at the home of a Pharisee named Simon. If you know anything about the Gospels, this pairing seems odd. Jesus and the Pharisees typically clashed over matters of law, grace, and the nature of holiness. Yet here Jesus sits, reclining at table in the traditional Greco-Roman fashion—lying on his side with his feet extended away from the table.

These dinners were semi-public affairs in that culture. People from the town could observe from the edges, watching the honored guest and the host. It was a way for the host to show off a bit, to demonstrate his connections and importance.

But then something scandalous happens.

A woman enters—described simply as “a woman of the city who was a sinner.” This isn’t just saying she had sin on her account (who doesn’t?). This is a euphemism. She was a prostitute, a woman whose reputation preceded her, someone the religious elite would never associate with. She was the kind of person the Pharisees—whose very name means “separated ones”—avoided at all costs.

When Tears Become Worship

What happens next would have horrified the dinner guests.

The woman approaches Jesus from behind, standing at his feet (the only place accessible given how he was reclining). She begins to weep. Not delicate tears, but deep, soul-wrenching sobs. Her tears fall onto Jesus’ dusty, dirty feet—feet that had walked the roads in sandals, collecting all the grime of the day.

Realizing what she’s done, and having no towel, she does the unthinkable: she lets down her hair. In that culture, this was scandalous—something done only in private, unless you were a woman of ill repute. She uses her hair to wipe his feet clean.

Then she breaks open an alabaster flask of expensive perfume—the kind you save for special occasions, the kind with a narrow neck you have to break to open. She pours it on his feet (not his head, where it would normally go) and begins kissing them.

The Greek text uses a staccato series of verbs here, as if time slows to agonizing motion. Everything she does is shocking, conspicuous, and—to Simon and his guests—utterly inappropriate.

The Pharisee’s Silent Judgment

Simon doesn’t speak his thoughts aloud, but we’re told what he’s thinking: “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner.”

Notice the construction in Greek. Simon isn’t saying, “If he is a prophet (and I think he is).” He’s saying, “If he were a prophet (which I’m now sure he’s not).”

Why? Because in Simon’s worldview, holiness cannot touch unholiness without becoming contaminated. Sin is stronger than righteousness. The unholy infects the holy. Therefore, a true prophet would never allow this woman—this sinner—to touch him.

Simon doesn’t see a woman. He sees a label. He sees a category. He sees contamination.

The Prophet Speaks

Then Jesus does something remarkable. He answers Simon’s unspoken thoughts, proving he is indeed a prophet by knowing what’s happening in Simon’s heart.

“Simon,” he says—using his name, not his label. “I have something to say to you.”

Jesus tells a parable about two debtors. One owes 500 denarii (about 20 months’ wages for a day laborer—a crushing, unpayable debt). The other owes 50 denarii (about two months’ wages—still significant). The moneylender forgives both debts entirely.

“Which one will love him more?” Jesus asks.

Simon, wary but honest, answers correctly: “The one who was forgiven more, I suppose.”

“You have judged rightly,” Jesus says.

Do You See This Woman?

Then comes the devastating question. Jesus turns toward the woman but speaks to Simon: “Do you see this woman?”

It’s not a question about whether Simon’s eyeballs are functioning. It’s a question about perception, about truly seeing another human being.

The answer is no. Simon doesn’t see her. He sees a sinner. He sees a category. He sees someone who is “one of them.”

Jesus then contrasts what Simon didn’t do with what she did:

• Simon didn’t provide water for Jesus’ feet. She washed them with her tears and dried them with her hair.
• Simon didn’t give the customary greeting kiss. She hasn’t stopped kissing Jesus’ feet.
• Simon didn’t provide even cheap olive oil for refreshment. She poured expensive perfume on his feet.

What Simon saw as scandal, Jesus saw as love. What Simon saw as contamination, Jesus saw as worship.

The Heart of Grace

Here’s the critical point: “Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much.”

This can sound confusing in English. Did she earn forgiveness by loving? No—that would contradict the entire parable Jesus just told. The Greek uses a perfect tense: her sins had already been forgiven. The word translated “for” can better be understood as “as shown by” or “that’s why.”

Her sins had been forgiven. That’s why she loved so much.

Just like in the parable, the moneylender forgave the debts first. The love came as a response to forgiveness, not as a means to earn it.

This woman had already encountered Jesus’ grace. She had already been forgiven. Her extravagant, conspicuous, scandalous display of love was the evidence of forgiveness, not the cause of it.

Two Ways of Seeing

This passage confronts us with two ways of seeing people:

Simon’s way: See the label. See the category. See the sin. Keep your distance. Demand that people clean themselves up before approaching God. Measure worthiness. Maintain separation.

Jesus’ way: See the person. See the image of God. See who they can become. Extend grace first. Let transformation flow from forgiveness, not the other way around.

We’re all born hardwired like Simon. Since the fall, we’re predisposed to legalism, to putting works before grace, to judging, to labeling, to thinking in terms of “us” and “them.”

But the gospel turns this upside down. Grace comes first. Always. In the beginning, God. God initiates. God extends grace. And transformation, love, and gratitude flow from that grace.

The Superpower of Seeing

There’s a novel called Theo of Golden about a man with a unique gift: he sees who people truly are. He sees things in them they don’t see in themselves. And when he tells them what he sees, they begin to be transformed.

That’s what Jesus does. He sees us—not just our sin, not just our labels, but who we were created to be and who we can become by grace.

The woman at Simon’s house was seen. Jesus spoke her restoration publicly: “Your sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

An Invitation

Perhaps you feel like this woman—broken, labeled by your past, defined by your failures. Jesus sees you. Not the label. Not just the brokenness. He sees who you were made to be.

Bring your sin, your brokenness, your regret, your shame. Pour it out at his feet. Receive his love and forgiveness. Then pour out your love and gratitude to him.

Or perhaps you feel like Simon—confident in your relative righteousness, quick to judge, slow to extend grace. Remember: the man who owed 50 denarii wasn’t getting out of that debt either. We all need forgiveness. And gratitude, love, and change flow from grace, not from judgment.

The question Jesus asks Simon echoes through the centuries to us: “Do you see?”

Do we see people as categories or as image-bearers of God? Do we see labels or individuals? Do we see them as they are or as they can be by grace?

May we develop the eyes of Christ—to see people truly, to extend grace lavishly, and to live in the constant wonder of how much we ourselves have been forgiven.