They went each to his own house, but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. Early in the morning he came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And as they continue to ask him, 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 once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus stood up and said to her, Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go and from now on sin no more.” John 7:53-8:11
I spend a lot of time thinking about dignity. As the writer for Back2Back Ministries*, a global orphan care ministry, the bulk of my job is sharing stories of growth and triumph from cyclical trauma on behalf of vulnerable populations. And I consider every word carefully. One of the house rules at Back2Back is to ask oneself, “if the subject of this story heard it read aloud, would they feel shame? Embarrassment? Pride?” I work for an organization who is diligent about showing smiling faces and providing the hope that comes after hurt. And when I read this passage about the adulterous woman, I know confidently I walk with a Father who is also in the business of not only focusing on the hope, but gives it, and He removes our hurt. A Father who provides dignity to populations who may not know it well. And He takes these positions seriously.
I walk with a Father who is also in the business of not only focusing on the hope, but gives it, and He removes our hurt.
As I read this passage of Scripture, I consider the adulterous woman. I imagine the Pharisees winging her into the center of a large crowd and scoffing. If I were in her position, I’d likely be trying to fold in on myself as much as possible – cowering, arms crossed over my body, doing anything I could to make myself smaller amidst the crowd. Her heart must’ve been beating so fast, trying her best not to imagine the ping of stones against her flesh, wondering how long it would take before she’d draw her last breath. And all the while, I imagine the crowd was jeering and taunting.
Can you imagine the isolation and fear she must’ve felt?
And this is what shame in the place of dignity does to us, sisters. You may never have cheated on your husband or significant other, but I imagine we can all recall a moment where we were publicly called out for sin. In these moments, our fear brain whispered to us, “you’re the only unclean one here, girl – everyone knows it’s true.”
Jesus then does what He always does – gently reminds those Pharisees they’re no worse or better than the woman they’re wishing to condemn. “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Now that’s a mic drop, if I’ve ever heard one.
Jesus doesn’t point His finger at each of the Pharisees and list their indiscretions aloud for all to hear – even though He could have.
Jesus doesn’t further shame the adulterous woman with her additional sins that the crowd doesn’t know – even though He could have.
Jesus doesn’t yell or criticize or lose His cool over a crew of bros trying to tell Him how to do His work on this side of Heaven – even though He could have.
He just calls it like it is – you boys with clean hands? Go ahead, throw the stones. And one by one, they walk away, until it’s just the woman and Jesus. He asks where they’ve all gone, asks who condemned her, and she says, “No one, my Lord.”
“Me, either,” He responds. “Go. . .”
With just a few sentences, He provided dignity for a woman who believed she was going to be publicly chastised and stoned to death.
I empathize with this woman. It’s not a good feeling when our sin is called out publicly. However, she isn’t necessarily who I’m wanting to model after reading this story.
It’s our Savior.
He has all the information. He knows all the mishaps. He has an ongoing record of every wrong committed. Yet He offers grace and dignity.
He doesn’t put the Pharisees on blast, He simply reminds them they’re not so pure.
He doesn’t encourage the crowd to do what the Law commanded of them, He just asks who’s gonna throw the first stone.
He doesn’t even lecture the woman at fault, He just asks who condemned her after all the hullabaloo.
He is gracious, tender, forgiving, and He seeks to restore the dignity with which He made each of us.
May we all be so, when dealing with other humans. May we each remember everyone has a past. May we recall the times we were called out, and how it felt. May we always know that no matter the story, no matter the history, no matter the sins, everyone deserves dignity.
So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. - Genesis 1:27
*For more information about this ministry, visit https://back2back.org.
Steph Duff wants to live in a world where every human, whether small or regular-sized, learns to use their voice and is seen and known. When she's not traveling and story telling with Back2Back Ministries, you'll likely find her drinking excessive cups of coffee, with her nose in a book, or daydreaming about India. Her favorite scripture is Habakkuk 1:5, and she prays for a world in which Jesus is the name on every lip. Learn a little more about her love for semi-colons, what stirs her blood, and the yearnings of her heart over at www.stephaniduff.wordpress.com.