Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

It is likely unsurprising that I have an avid interest in the Biblical accounts of Jesus interacting with women. Given the patriarchal society of the day, I’m sure it was an unpopular choice–especially the type of women with whom He often chose to interact. Women without social standing. Women others rejected. Women stuck in bad situations. Women who needed forgiveness, grace, a miracle. Women like the adulterous woman in John 8. 

Dragged from her bed of debauchery, surrounded by a group of angry men with a point to prove, she stands accused and guilty before the ultimate Judge. Her clothing is askew. Her hair bedraggled and hanging around her face. She doesn’t even attempt to meet Jesus’ gaze. Her embarrassment is too acute. Regardless of what she was caught doing, having her sin exposed for all to see is more humiliation than she cares to endure. Her face is averted, her eyes cast down. She doesn’t need to see her accusers to hear their nasty insults. She can’t ignore them, but she doesn’t have to acknowledge them. Shame engulfs her like a heavy mantle. The coming punishment couldn’t feel worse than she felt at that moment.  

Had she not been swimming in her own cesspool of disgrace, she’d have noticed the nearly comical scene around her. Grown men clutching stones and banging on like tattling children in a relentless diatribe about catching her in the very act of adultery (alone, apparently, as no man is on trial with her) and what should be done because of it. Each man is attempting to be the loudest, most intelligent, most authoritative, most impressive voice in the melee. Each hoping to be the one to trip up the great Teacher. That’s what it was really about. 

“Do you know what the law says about that? We can quote it for you. Don’t you agree she should be stoned like it says? Shouldn’t our sanctimonious selves be the ones to do it?” they ask.

Then the trick questions, “Are you going to defy the law, our saving grace? What do you think should be done about this situation, Jesus?”  

And the exasperated voices as they realize Jesus is squatted down, calmly writing in the dirt, “Are you even listening? Why are you writing in the dirt at a time like this? We’re talking to you! Whatcha gonna do, Jesus??” 

Undergoing a barrage of verbal insults and facing a volley of very real stones, the charged woman is not looking at the scene around her. She’s not searching the crowd for someone to speak on her behalf. She’s not crazy enough to think someone will. No one stands up on behalf of lawbreakers. No one befriends sinners. No one can negate another’s punishment. No one loves anyone enough to even try. Hopeless and helpless, she’s enduring the humiliation, berating herself for her actions, wishing there was a way of escaping the consequences, yet resigning herself to the inevitable. Her head is bowed. Her eyes fixed on the ground. The very ground upon which Jesus is writing. 

Jesus, who was listening to the Pharisaical blathering all along, finally had enough of the bluster. He stops writing, unfolds from his stooped position, and simply says, “If you’ve never sinned, aren’t currently sinning, and foresee a personal future of sinless uprightness, go ahead and throw some stones.” (John 8:7) Stooping again, He resumes His sand sermon. 

As she stands there bracing herself for the impact of the first stone, the woman instead hears a soft thump as a scribe drops his rock and slinks away. Another thump on her other side, and a Pharisee slips off through the crowd as inconspicuously as possible. One by one, each eager executioner drops their weapon of choice and quietly disappears. She doesn’t move a muscle. She hardly dares to breathe. Perhaps she’s afraid. Perhaps she’s uncertain. Perhaps she’s immersed in the sermon written in the dirt at her feet. 

Whatever her reason, John 8:10 tells us Jesus finally stood up, looked around at the decidedly uncrowded area around them, and asked, “Where are your accusers? Did they change their minds?” Bewildered at what is happening, she admits no one has stayed behind to mete out the intended punishment. And Jesus says, “I hold nothing against you. You are forgiven. Go and live like it.” (John 8:11)  

So what was Jesus writing in the sand? The Bible doesn’t tell us, but my curiosity is piqued and my imagination is overactive. I want to know–or at least speculate. What could have been so important, so necessary that He decided to write it then and there? And who was intended to read it? Was anyone? Was everyone?

For interest’s sake, I asked three preachers from three different denominations what they thought. Although their answers differed, they all seemed to think the writing was aimed at the male accusers. Perhaps it was a list of sins. Perhaps it was a list of saints. Perhaps it wasn’t a list at all, but the law. Perhaps it’s unimportant because it’s message wasn’t recorded.  

 But I wonder…Perhaps it wasn’t intended to accuse the accusers. Perhaps it was intended to redeem the accused. Perhaps it was an olive branch extended to “whosoever will”. (Revelation 22:17, Romans 10:13) Perhaps it was a message that would reduce the law to a schoolmaster (Galatians 3:24-25) and promote grace to a position of power. Perhaps it was a love letter, authored by Jesus, written in the sand. 

Perhaps it started with the words of Isaiah 43:1 and ended with the promise of John 3:16-17. Maybe it said something like this, “I am the Lord. Don’t be afraid. I’ve already paid the price for you. You are redeemed. I have called you by your name, a name I know, because you are mine. In spite of the mess you have made of your life, God still loves you so much He is willing to sacrifice His greatest treasure to ensure your redemption. All you have to do is believe.  Believe I love you. Believe God sent Me. Believe that Someone loves you enough to take your punishment and spare your life.” 

The words instill hope. Hope that someone does stand up on behalf of lawbreakers, someone does befriend sinners, someone loves less than desirable humanity enough to reduce, even revoke, their deserved punishment. The litany of offenses is erased by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.  (Colossians 2:14) 

 In a moment of transparency, I admit I am right there with her. Not the adultery part, the sin part. The list of “Shalt not’s” I’ve broken is longer than the list of “Thou shalt’s” I’ve kept. Satan, the Pharisee, takes enormous pleasure in parading my sins before me like so much dirty laundry. Some days I fall for it. My stringently judgmental self fires off a barrage of disparaging remarks at my weatherbeaten soul. “How could God love you? You are a mess. You can’t do anything right for very long. Everyone else is lovable, but you? Not so much. You are useless, worthless, unlovable.” And the coup de grace, “You might as well be spiritually stoned and left for dead.”  

Embarrassed by the reality of past indiscretions and concerned there’s more truth than error in the railing accusations, I stand with my face and soul downcast. Awaiting judgment, I stare at the ground in front of me. Tears cloud my vision. As I blink them away, I see it. The love letter Jesus left me. Possibly the same message He wrote for the adulterous woman in John 8.  

Inscribed in the dirt at my feet, my shame-filled eyes see words from Isaiah 43:1, “You are mine.”  Created by His hand, constantly being molded into the person He wants me to be, I am His. No matter what else I am–sinner, saint, snob, sweetheart–I am His. And He calls me by my name. The same name He has tattooed on His hand. (Isaiah 49:16)   

As I continue to read, He says my sins are blotted out by a thick, inky cloud. He says I’m redeemed. (Isaiah 44:22) Sin has no control over me anymore. (Romans 6:14) There’s no need to fear. He’s going to be with me. Now and always. Come hell or high water. He’s never going to leave. (Isaiah 43:2,5)  And when I finally get the courage to look up into His face, He says to me what He said to that woman so long ago, “I hold nothing against you. You are forgiven. Go and live like it.” (John 8:11)

Admittedly, I don’t know what Jesus was writing or drawing in the dirt. No one does. It’s all speculation. Maybe it was for the men. Maybe it was for that woman. Maybe it was for anyone who would take the time to read it. I don’t know. But I do know this. No one is outside the realm of God’s grace, forgiveness, and love. The woman caught in her sins is no different than you and me.  We are all doomed to death because of our sin. (Ephesians 2:1) We deserve no less. But God’s grace, in the form of Jesus, steps in and changes the laws. We don’t have to die. We can choose life. (Deuteronomy 30:19) Abundant life. Lived to the fullest. (John 10:10)

I don’t know what your past looks like.  I can’t see your present soul. Perhaps you feel broken, worthless, insignificant. Maybe you think God is ignoring you. He’s not. He’s writing you a love letter in the dirt around your feet.  No matter where you are, where you’ve been, or what you’ve done, His words are the same. For you, for me, for the person you’ve wronged and the one who has wronged you, His message stands. So take the hand He holds out to you, the one inscribed with your name, and hear Jesus say, “I hold nothing against you. You are redeemed. You are mine.” Then go, and live like it.