One year ago today, I finished a song entitled, “You See Me,” and later included it on my first album.
To set the stage for how and why this song was created, I will start with the Saturday before Valentine’s Day. On this particular day, I went to my former church (where I had left only a few months prior) to attend the funeral of a friend’s mother. It was the first time I had entered the building since leaving that church. My family and I were getting ready, and my intuitive Reed asked if I was nervous about going back. He could see that I was a bit anxious, as I am terrible about hiding my feelings. Instead, I usually write them all over my face and into my demeanor, despite my efforts of being fine.
We walked into the church, and I was almost nauseous. I had loved that place. We were married there, and all three of our children were baptized there; however, the building now held other emotions, including those from events that occurred leading to my resignation. Entering the sanctuary was overwhelming, and I took deep breaths to hold back tears, as emotions flooded back into my head and heart. I gathered myself, and wore a facade to try to appear as if I was doing well. I barely made it out of the sanctuary before I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I went to my room when I got home, and wept. Prior to this day, I thought I was moving past all of this, but the scabs just seemed to be scraped off of wounds still present, only hidden.
The next day my family and I attended church where my dear friend Justin Gillespie was pastor at the time. I was carrying the sadness from the prior day. The sermon that day was about the “woman of the city” found in Luke 7:36-48.
36 When one of the Pharisees invited Jesus to have dinner with him, he went to the Pharisee’s house and reclined at the table. 37 A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, so she came there with an alabaster jar of perfume. 38 As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them.
39 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.”
40 Jesus answered him, “Simon, I have something to tell you.”
“Tell me, teacher,” he said.
41 “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. 42 Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?”
43 Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”
“You have judged correctly,” Jesus said.
44 Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. 45 You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. 46 You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. 47 Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”
48 Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
49 The other guests began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”
50 Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
Never before had I been the prostitute in this story, but the life to which Justin pointed was one about which I hadn’t previously thought. The woman knew that at the feet of Jesus was where she needed to be, despite also knowing that her reputation in the town preceded her. She would never have been welcome in a Pharisees’ home, and on the way there, she would have endured snide comments from others, whispers and stares. She had to push all of that aside, despite the hurt that would plant so deeply, to get to Jesus.
She falls at His feet knowing that is where she will find peace. Maybe she was a prostitute because she was a mom who had been left by a husband who was deceased, and thought that was the only way she would make money. Maybe she longed for someone to need her, and her profession fulfilled that in small bits, like a drug that satisfied for a time. Maybe she didn’t realize that she found her purpose in her profession.
At a moment in that service, my sweet friend had to go get tissues for me. Justin’s point was clear and so true: Jesus sees us as we really are - every piece of us. The worst and the best. The ugly and the beautiful. He does not turn us away, even though our reputation precedes us.
AND, when we see Jesus for who He really is, we are drawn to His lovingkindness and grace. There, at the feet of Jesus, is where we, too, find our peace. Jesus tells the woman, “Go in peace,” and replaces the emptiness and aching in that precious woman’s heart with His peace. His love. His wholeness. His righteousness. He covers our sin and shame with His grace.
That day was life changing for me. I realized that we all have a similar story. Our stories all come down, if we dig deeply enough, to a point where Jesus Christ is our only righteousness and peace. That’s the foundation. If we strip away all of the excess, that’s what is left. “My soul finds rest in God alone.” -Psalm 62
1 John 4:19 - “We love because He first loved us.” I want to love like that. I want to see beyond the surface of people’s skin. Lord, help me, by Your grace. The plank in my own eye vs. the speck in someone else’s.
And so, even though I wrote this story about her and about me, I know that this story is most likely about all of us, taking our entire selves - the hurt we have endured, and the hurt we have done to others, falling down at the feet of Jesus, and hearing him say, “Go in peace.”
You See Me
You look beyond the surface of my skin. This fearless shell I’m wearing hides my wounds within. Beyond what others say of me, beyond the mess I’ve made of me.
You hear the words that plant so deep. I pull them out, but then they creep back in on me; recurring whispers of disgrace. Undeserving, out of place.
But You see me for who I really am, and You don’t turn me away. No, You welcome my praise to You. And when I see You as You are, I fall down at Your feet, drawn by Your love for me.
You see my past and my today. You see the hurt and hurtful things I say. You want my worst, You want my best. You love me in my brokenness.
But You see me for who I really am, and You don’t turn me away. No, You welcome my praise to You. And when I see You as You are, I fall down at Your feet, drawn by Your love for me.
Jesus, You replace the aching in my heart with Your peace. You take my sin and shame and cover it with grace. Jesus, You replace the aching in my heart with Your peace. You take my sin and shame and cover it with grace.
And You see me for who I really am, and You don’t turn me away. No, You welcome my praise to You. And when I see You as You are, I fall down at Your feet, drawn by Your love for me.
I fall down at Your feet, drawn by Your love for me.