John 8

I'm stuck in John at the moment. I started reading through the New Testament at the beginning of the year. We're halfway through the year and I am still in John 8. Truth be told, I've been in John 8 for a whole week. There's a good possibility that I'll be in John 8 for another week.

The chapter heading in my bible reads, An Adulteress Faces the Light of the World. The story is simple and yet, so profound.

Jesus comes down from the Mount of Olives, early in the morning, dawn is still breaking over the horizon, and begins to teach, at the temple. I imagine there are crowds of people, all around Him, pressing up to Him, the early morning sun is probably giving way to noon's heat. I imagine, dusty roads, dusty crowds, people clamoring for attention and a continual hushing as others try to hear His words. Everyone wants to be with Jesus.

All of a sudden, tall, prideful men push into the centre of the crowd, striding forward until they stand right in front of Jesus. With them is a woman, beautiful, ashamed, meek, doing nothing to hide her sin, tears slipping down her face, she is guilty. She is also sorry.

The men, don't care for her heart, they don't care of her past, they don't see her at all, really, they just know that maybe, with her, they can finally find something to accuse Jesus with.

They have seen the way Jesus acts. His crazy love for people. The way He mingles with sinners, even prostitutes! He's healed on the Sabbath, touched the untouchable. He claims to be God. But surely, here, Jesus' compassion will finally get the best of Him. Clearly, in this case, He has to abide by the law. This woman, must die. Her sin is so great, so obvious, surely she must pay for her actions...

Jesus says nothing. Just stoops down. Writes in the sand. They continue to pester Him, asking over and over again, confident, cocky, sure that His silence means they have finally trapped Him. And so they keep asking.

Jesus raises Himself up and with one sentence He silences them, The one who is without sin can cast the first stone. And He bends down again, continues writing in the dust, silent, sure.

The questioning stops. The condemnation is silenced.

My Bible says that those who heard it were convicted by their conscience and went out, one by one. They left the crowd, from the oldest even to the last. No one was able to stay. All were convicted. Every single one could not say that they had wholly abided by the law. All were guilty. All needed to be stoned.

In time, Jesus raises Himself again, and no one is there, except the accused. She is the lonely remainder. The accusers have left. She stands, and I imagine, is afraid, confused, relieved, unsure of what has just happened. She has escaped certain death, and only one strange man now looks at her, kindness in His eyes.

"Woman," He says, "Where are your accusers? Has no one condemned you?"

"No one, lord," she replies.

"Neither do I condemn you. Go, be free, sin no more." I'm sure she leaves in that moment. I am sure she goes with hope in her heart, she has met the Light.

God's love is dust-like, brown in colour...(For other colours see Green, Yellow, Orange, White). It is evidenced in His creation of mankind, created in His image, created out of dust. It is apparent in sending Christ to earth, as man, created out of dust, sent not to enforce the law, but to fulfill the Law. His love is found in John 8, as He stoops, writing in the sand, shown not only to the woman accused, but to her accusers as well...understanding their need for conviction, their need for grace, their need for a Saviour.

I have two thoughts when I read this story:
The first is...Why do we spend so much time condemning and judging one another's sin, horrible as it may be, when we are also all guilty, not one better than the other? There is not one of us without sin, and yet so often we drag others through the dust, bring them to Jesus' feet, crying out see here, this one deserves to die.
The second is...God teach me to love my accusers. Lest in my feelings towards them, I become the accuser rather than the accused. Teach me to love like You love!

Teach me to love without hypocrisy or deceit. Teach me to love with longsuffering and patience, with all kindness in every situation, without jealousy of any sort. Teach me to love in humility, without rudeness or self-centredness. Teach me to love in such a way that is part of my being, that I am never provoked, so that I think no evil or rejoice in sin. Teach me to love with a love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and endures all things. Teach me to love with such a love that I would willingly lay down my life, not just for my brother, my sister, my friend, but also for all those that would be my accusers. Transform me God!