It is said Jesus had been writing the sins of the men around him. Greed. Lust. Deceit. Hate. Hypocrisy. That would have been easy enough to identify. I sense it was a lot more personal than that. That list on the ground was specific and graphic. Any one of the bloodthirsty men would have recognized themselves in the handwriting on the sand. I would have.
The men are as guilty as the condemned woman. There is more than enough evidence to convict and condemn the entire lot—from the oldest to the youngest amongst them. No difference except for the rocks of condemnation held by the self-appointed executioners.
Only one person among them stands faultless, spotless, and sinless. He is not holding a rock. He is the only judge that morning with any credibility. He “has the goods” on all of them. His challenge is clear and convicting. If your record in spotless, go ahead—get the death rock festival started. There is a deep life lesson for me in this uncomfortable moment. Condemnation is not my personal mandate. Judgeship is not my role in life. I am the one condemned. But the good news is that my sins are known by One who chooses to write them on dust. They are not etched in stone—they are dust in the wind at the feet of Jesus.
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