Rocks
In our study of "The Way," we're reading this week about the outcasts, the sinners and the poor—the people Jesus seemed to spend a lot of time with. The least, the last and the lost. The ones no one else wanted anything to do with. The ones we tend to avoid as well. Yes, Jesus spent time with religious people—but he didn't often have very good things to say to them. But when he's with one of "those people," you can sense his compassion, his love, his caring.
Unfortunately, we're very often most unlike Jesus in this category. And I'm including myself in this, because in modern American Christianity, we're taught somewhere along the way that if we associate with "those people," we'll become sinners. We'll get "dirty" by rubbing shoulders with "them." You mean—"them," the ones Jesus rubbed shoulders with all the time?
Not that he let them off the hook. Where there was sin, he called it out, but he went further than that. Think about the woman taken in adultery (John 8:2-11). She's guilty, no doubt about it...though I always wonder where the man was. (Last time I checked, it took two to commit adultery.) Anyway, the good, upright religious people bring her before Jesus (how did they catch her?), throw her on the ground and basically ask Jesus permission to stone her. "That's what Moses said we could do," they tell him. "So can we? Can we? Can we?" Like children eager for a treat, they almost sound like they can't wait to throw the stones.
Jesus ignores them for a while and doodles in the dirt (the only instance we have where Jesus wrote anything). I think he's letting the emotions settle down for a while, diffusing an explosive situation. Perhaps he means to remind them that they, like her, are made of dust. When he does speak, he says something we often ignore: "If you haven't made a mistake, if you've never messed up, if you haven't ever sinned, then go ahead, throw those stones at her." Then he went back to scribbling in the sand.
If you haven't messed up—then you can stone the guilty. If you haven't made a mistake—then you can call out the mistakes of the sinners. It's not that we don't know this saying of Jesus. On the contrary, we know it very well. But we don't live like we know it. We're quick to judge. We're swift to condemn. It's easy to point out the sins of others, and we hope that by doing so, no one will notice our own. It's even fun to call out the mistakes of someone, while all the time hoping ours aren't showing as much as we think they are.
That day, the stones dropped, one by one. Thud. Thud. Thud. And Jesus tells the woman he doesn't condemn her. The only one who could chooses not to. Instead, he calls her to "go and sin no more." He calls her to a new life, free from the sin of her past. Is she likely to never sin again? Probably not. She'll make mistakes. She'll mess up. But she'll always remember this moment, and Jesus' call to a new life, a restart.
I find it fascinating that, in today's Christian world, we find ample forgiveness at the foot of the cross and from the heart of the savior (and we love to talk about that), but we find so little forgiveness from the ones who claim to be his servants. Those whom Jesus welcomes, we shun. Those whom Jesus renews, we mark as hopeless, beyond redemption. Once a sinner, always a sinner. Because if they're looking at someone else's sin, maybe they're not looking at ours.
Go, Jesus said to the least, the last and the lost. Go and sin no more. Be made new. Follow me on the way.
Unfortunately, we're very often most unlike Jesus in this category. And I'm including myself in this, because in modern American Christianity, we're taught somewhere along the way that if we associate with "those people," we'll become sinners. We'll get "dirty" by rubbing shoulders with "them." You mean—"them," the ones Jesus rubbed shoulders with all the time?
Not that he let them off the hook. Where there was sin, he called it out, but he went further than that. Think about the woman taken in adultery (John 8:2-11). She's guilty, no doubt about it...though I always wonder where the man was. (Last time I checked, it took two to commit adultery.) Anyway, the good, upright religious people bring her before Jesus (how did they catch her?), throw her on the ground and basically ask Jesus permission to stone her. "That's what Moses said we could do," they tell him. "So can we? Can we? Can we?" Like children eager for a treat, they almost sound like they can't wait to throw the stones.
Jesus ignores them for a while and doodles in the dirt (the only instance we have where Jesus wrote anything). I think he's letting the emotions settle down for a while, diffusing an explosive situation. Perhaps he means to remind them that they, like her, are made of dust. When he does speak, he says something we often ignore: "If you haven't made a mistake, if you've never messed up, if you haven't ever sinned, then go ahead, throw those stones at her." Then he went back to scribbling in the sand.
If you haven't messed up—then you can stone the guilty. If you haven't made a mistake—then you can call out the mistakes of the sinners. It's not that we don't know this saying of Jesus. On the contrary, we know it very well. But we don't live like we know it. We're quick to judge. We're swift to condemn. It's easy to point out the sins of others, and we hope that by doing so, no one will notice our own. It's even fun to call out the mistakes of someone, while all the time hoping ours aren't showing as much as we think they are.
That day, the stones dropped, one by one. Thud. Thud. Thud. And Jesus tells the woman he doesn't condemn her. The only one who could chooses not to. Instead, he calls her to "go and sin no more." He calls her to a new life, free from the sin of her past. Is she likely to never sin again? Probably not. She'll make mistakes. She'll mess up. But she'll always remember this moment, and Jesus' call to a new life, a restart.
I find it fascinating that, in today's Christian world, we find ample forgiveness at the foot of the cross and from the heart of the savior (and we love to talk about that), but we find so little forgiveness from the ones who claim to be his servants. Those whom Jesus welcomes, we shun. Those whom Jesus renews, we mark as hopeless, beyond redemption. Once a sinner, always a sinner. Because if they're looking at someone else's sin, maybe they're not looking at ours.
Go, Jesus said to the least, the last and the lost. Go and sin no more. Be made new. Follow me on the way.
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