'Let him who is without sin among you be the first to
throw a stone at her."
I have often found myself slamming people in my thoughts - sometimes complete strangers, sometimes people I sort of know, sometimes people I know well and even those I love.
That sounds awful, doesn't it? But it's true.
On a seperate thought (or so I used to think), I've also often found myself afraid of what people will think of me- strangers or not. I'm afraid they'll judge me to a crazy degree of strictness. I'm afraid that no matter what I do or how I choose to live my life, someone somewhere won't like it and they'll scoff at me for it, if only in their head.
As of recently, I've found out that there's really quite a strong correlation between these two things going on in my mind and heart.
As much as I wouldn't want to admit it, I know that the way I've treated others isn't at all how I would want to be treated or thought of. And that fear of what people will think or say about me, in its simplest form, is really the fear that people are thinking or saying of me the same kinds of things I might think or say of them.
In John, Chapter 8, there's a story about a lady who was caught in the act of adultery and brought to Jesus by some religious leaders of the day as a test. They tell him that they know according to their law, the answer is to stone her.
"So what do you say?" They ask.
I have a guess that their faces looked something like that of a teacher, mockingly asking a student who was talking if they want to teach the classs since they must know it all already. Just a guess.
Anyway, they ask him. He stoops down and writes on the ground with his finger. I wish I knew what he wrote there and why he waited to deliver such a good answer (because if I had an answer of that calibre, I probably would have rattled it off faster than it would take my mouth to say it properly). But he stooops down and writes. Some people think he was writing the accusing religious leaders' sins on the ground. Some people think other things. But these leaders kept asking him what he thought should happen. Then, "He stood up and said to them, 'Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her."
And then he bent down and kept writing.
The religious leaders were stunned, I think. They didn't say anything. They just started walking away- beginning with the oldest ones. I think it could have been because they had been alive longer and knew pretty well that they weren't without sin. That and maybe they were a little more wise and knew when to walk away from humiliation. In the end, though, they all walked away and it was just the woman and Jesus.
He stood up and asked her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"
I think there's a lot to that question. Jesus wasn't asking it for his own benefit, to find out what was going on. He could have looked around and known that. He asked the question to say something- and to have the woman be the one to say it.
He stood up and asked her, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"
I think there's a lot to that question. Jesus wasn't asking it for his own benefit, to find out what was going on. He could have looked around and known that. He asked the question to say something- and to have the woman be the one to say it.
"Has no one condemned you?"
"No one, Lord."
Her answer says that she knows no one there condemns her. The ones who had condemned her left, and by doing so, recognized that they didn't have the right to condemn her. I wonder how their lives changed from that day on.
"Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more."
In my bible, there's a note in brackets saying that the verses telling this story were not included in the earliest manuscripts. I don't really know the significance of that, but I'm thankful that at some point, it was added.
Those things I talked about at the beginning of this- the thoughts and words that have come from me about other people- don't always seem like a big deal. In fact, a lot of the time, I don't even realize I'm doing it. In every case, though, it's me, figuratively throwing stones at people when I'm just as guilty as them.
If Jesus doesn't condemn them, or me, neither can I.
It's easier said than done, but I know that the more I let myself be reminded of the grace that's been poured out on me, the more I'll be reminded that I don't deserve it and that they get the same grace. We both owe it all to Jesus. And if he doesn't throw stones, neither will I.
It's easier said than done, but I know that the more I let myself be reminded of the grace that's been poured out on me, the more I'll be reminded that I don't deserve it and that they get the same grace. We both owe it all to Jesus. And if he doesn't throw stones, neither will I.