Jesus was in the middle of teaching a lesson when a gaggle of scribes and Pharisees traipsed into the temple. While turning the spotlight from the Great Teacher, the religious leaders claimed the center of the room and carelessly tossed a young woman in the middle of their gathering. The crowd watched this unexpected showdown take place as Jesus rose from His seated position in the treasury room of the temple.
“Teacher,” said one religious leader sarcastically to Jesus, “this woman was caught in the act of committing adultery. In the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women.” The onlookers gasped as the attention quickly fell to the crouched down, humiliated woman in the center of the trap. “So,” pushed a religious leader, with a smirk and quick glance about the temple treasury, “what do You say?”
Jesus stooped down in the great temple, all eyes on Him. Using His finger, He began to write. The accusatory clan began insisting upon an answer from Him. Finally, He stood back up and looked at them. “The one without sin among you,” He said, “should be the first to throw a stone at her.” The woman, no doubt, sunk lower, deeper into the temple floor, much like the sinking of her heart. Burying her face in her hands, she heard the Great Teacher stoop back down to the floor and resume His writings. She knew these devout men must be without sin. She knew she was condemned and would soon see death.
But rather than feeling the sting of a stone hitting her skin, the woman heard the quiet shuffle of steps gaining distance from her. The drag of old men’s feet vanished first, and then, reluctantly, the young men’s polished prance began to get closer and closer to the exit of the temple until they were gone. The center of the room was now occupied by the accused sinner and by the only One worthy of throwing the first stone.
The students-turned-audience, continued to watch, waiting for the Great Teacher to carry out the law in stoning this woman. She bent low, attacked and afraid.
I’ve seen this posture before. I saw it two years ago on June 13th. As I watched day-old coverage of the monstrous attack on the PULSE nightclub in Orlando, my heart broke. On one news station, the cameras caught footage of a survivor sitting on the side of the road, outside of the gay nightclub. He was bent low, attacked and afraid. Forty-nine of his fellow night club attendees were murdered in cold blood, while he and fifty-two others were being treated for their wounds. Their world had collided with mine. Pain. Suffering. Fear. Judgement.
October is LGBT History Month. We must choose to see our homosexual and other sexually identifying neighbors and the scars they bear. Many of these scars were left by the careless, vicious stones thrown at them by an unloving religious people. Many of these scars represent every person that claimed to be a Christian and chose hate instead of love, who chose accusation instead of hospitality, who chose finger pointing instead of hand holding.
“Don’t judge” is a phrase wrung dry over social media and eye-rolled in circles of ignorance. But what does it mean to truly not judge? Biblically, we are told not to judge others in a way that condemns them or in a way that deems them “unsaveable” (Matthew 7:1-3, Luke 6:37-42, James 4:11-12, Romans 12:16-18). We are also told that God alone judges someone’s value and sin, that someday we will stand in judgement before Him (2 Corinthians 5:10, Matthew 12:36-37, Hebrews 4:12, James 4:11-12).
In the narrative described above, an expounded telling of John 8:1-9, Jesus, triune with the Ultimate Judge, has the opportunity to condemn a sinner and her lifestyle to death. He alone has the authority and the justification to “cast the first stone”. So, does he?
He stood once again. “Woman, where are they?” He said. “Has no one condemned you?” She lifted her head and looked about the room, confirming with her eyes what her ears had heard. “No one, Lord,” she answered.
“Neither do I condemn you,” said Jesus to her. “Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.” Then to the onlookers He spoke, “I am the Light of the world. Anyone who follows Me will never walk in the darkness, but will have the light of life.”
In this calmed conclusion, Jesus portrays to us mercy at its greatest. Of all the people in that temple, in Jerusalem, in the world, He alone had the right to throw the first stone. Sinless as He was, He could have carried out justice through stoning the sinner, and He would have been right to do it according to the Law of Moses. But, instead, He showed mercy.
How much more, then, as sinners in need of and recipients of a Savior, should we show mercy? If Jesus Christ in all His sinlessness and goodness could peer into a lifestyle of sin and see a person, how much more should we?
Here are three things to consider during LGBT History Month:
How have I determined to cast the Light of the World into the dark, lost world, rather than cast the first stone of judgement?
Who have I hurt in the LGBTQ+ community by my words or actions, or silence or inaction?
Where do I need healing from my own unconfessed and concealed sin?
Let’s leave the stone throwing to the only One worthy of casting them.
Meet the Author!
Hannah Hanzel is an opinionated, passionate gal that loves sharing what God is doing in her often busy and complicated life. She strives to show God's glory in working as the Art Director for the Baptist Messenger, serving as a multi-client freelance graphic designer, and communing with CRBC. When she's not working, you can find her sipping coffee in a hammock, watching classic '40s movies, or going on an adventure with friends or family.
