extravagant worship... 

this is my story...she walked into the room at the home of the religious rich priest.  She saw the Man reclining at the table. He was the One she heard so many talking about.  The weight of the pain in her heart was utterly unbearable as she quietly approached Him. Accusations were slamming against her mind from all directions.  Liar....Whore....Thief....Hypocrite....Illegitimate....Diseased....Fake....Murderer....Ugly....No good.   The condemnation was hurling on and on.  She couldn't contain the heaviness in her chest. Guilt....Shame....Fear....Self condemnation....Confusion.   She fell at His feet and began weeping and washing His soiled feet with her tears. Her tears were pouring out as though she'd never cried before.  Being in His Presence seemed to call out every tear she dared never before to allow escape.  She let her hair fall about her shoulders as she bent over to kiss His feet and dried them with her hair, still weeping as others in the room watched in complete disgust. She was touching Him! Her! Then she took her most extravagant and valuable possession, a flask of Ointment. The Man said nothing as she poured out the Perfume to anoint His feet. Her only posession of any value was poured out onto Him. Her most prized posession was poured out and used to bless the Man.  It's as though she knew that soon He would pour out Himself in the most extravagantly radical way to bless her.