caught in adultery

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i was reading the bible this morning--you know, because that's totally what i do now--and dang if i didnt get full-blown convicted.

this rarely happens. i am a baby at the bible and my immaturity here probably keeps me from hearing from jesus as much as i [say i] want to. but even when i am truly seeking--not just reading or praying because i'm "posed tuh," (as judah would say)--it's not like i always get the magic verse that my heart needs.

i'm totally and embarrassingly guilty of being 30 years old and still doing the whole, "ok god, i am going to flip open the bible and i'll assume that whatever page i land on and read is going to be exactly what you need me to hear. deal?" i am expecting like my LIFE VERSE to come pouring forth and instead it ends up like one of my favorite 30 Rock scenes where Liz is reading 1 corinthians at a wedding and has to stall for time:

Liz: And now, an unscheduled reading that I think is appropriate for this lovely, romantic occasion. “But Onan knew the offspring would not be his; so whenever he lay with his brother’s wife, he spilled his semen on the ground…” Sorry [flipping pages]. “Then Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son’s foreskin”. Oh, come on, Bible! Help a lady out!

so yeah, i cant say i recommend this method of bible study. 

my plodding along in one chapter, little-by-little, and day-by-day, however,  is less exciting, but so far has borne more fruit for me.

so this morning my plodding brought me to a story that i have heard and read and listened to sermons on a butt-ton of times: the woman caught in adultery.

oh, you know the one; here it is in my own words: 

jesus is teaching and those tricksy, scheming pharisees  (religious bigwigs of the time with mad political power) are trying to punk him out and get him to say something that will damn him as a breaker of the law. 

they bring out this lady whom they have caught in adultery and they put her in front of the crowd that jesus was teaching to. they say, "this chick was adulterating...the law of moses says we should throw rocks at her head until she dies...what do YOU think we should do?"

and jesus kind of just ignores them and he sits down and he just starts doodling in the dust with his finger. (actually it says he WRITES in the dust which is cool because it means jesus was literate which wasnt super common back then).

and the pharisees are all. "um, rude. HELLO?!? answer us!"

so jesus stands up and says the famous, "whoever hasnt sinned gets to throw the first stone at her." and then he goes back to dust-writing.

all of the accusers hear this and drift away one by one (boo-ya!) and it's just jesus and the woman (who was pretty much just there/ignored all along as a prop for the pharisees to use in their scheme) are alone in the middle of the crowd of listeners.

he asks her where all of her accusers have gone; didnt even one of them condemn her? and she says, no, lord.

and jesus says "neither do i. go and sin no more."

so every time i have heard this i cast myself in one of two roles. A: the woman: before i loved jesus i was guilty of, and totally busted in, so many situations turning away from god, sexual impurity (though not adultery) included. but then i was redeemed--NOT CONDEMNED--by him. 

or B: i cast myself as jesus, as the protector and lover of sinners who doesnt condemn them, and even defends them from those who would try to shame and kill them with accusations. since i have become a christian my whole life should be spent acting more and more like jesus...so naturally this is the role i should gravitate toward in the story and the one my life should most reflect.

oh, but wait. 

it turns out i'm playing role C, the pharisees, a lot more than would like to admit. this was what jesus gently showed me this morning as i was reading the story, and trying to cast myself as him.

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the miley cyrus thing is dead to death of being talked about, but this was the specific thing he used today. not how i blogged about her, or the over-the-top jokes i took too far, but the heart issue IN ME (not her) of why i reacted to her performance in that way.

like he always does, jesus threw a curveball (never a stone) at me. he reminded me of when i dragged miley in front of him and the crowd, and said, "look at this little slut! isnt this shameful how she is acting! let's get her...oh, but in the name of love and upholding the standards of christ... blah, blah, blah, sure, sure, yeah, like that. now, where is my rock?"

and there he is, sitting quietly in the dust, letting me spew all of my condemnation until i have nothing left to say, and i'm just waiting for him to agree with me (i even picked out a nice rock for him because i'm helpful like that).

and like every scholar and reader (and annoyed pharisee probably , i am DYING to know what he's writing in the dust. the bible doesnt say (and my aramaic is rusty anyhow).

he gets up and instead of talking about HER, he looks at me and asks about my story. about my mistakes, my wounded heart and redeemed sins. 

and i fiddle with my rock and am all like, "hold up, this isnt about me! i havent been caught being adulterous! i've never even worn a mouse-head leotard and a foam finger! i twerketh not!  I AM GOOD!"

and with that pathetic, pharisaical cry, my eyes are opened, and i can finally read his dust-writing :

"precious daughter, remember those times you gave your body away?"

"remember when you tried to find your value in a man's lust?"

"do you remember the brokenness of realizing what you had given up?"

and the rock slips from my fingers and the condemnation vanishes from my lips. it has been years, and yet i am still the the used and broken woman. broken not by adultery or lust anymore, but by judgement and pride and so much more. used by satan to bring destruction instead of life because i believed his lies instead of remembering how lost i was too before He rescued me.

i think of all my sin; of how much He knows, of how short i fall. 

i look back to the dust, doomed by the knowledge that all my new transgressions will right there alongside the old, surely he will have recorded my hypocrisy, my cruelty. is there even enough dust on the ground to spell it all out?

but it's gone. 

every bit. 

there is nothing written against me.

it was written in dust and carried away on the wind in an instant. if i am east, my sins are west. the accusations against me have melted away. 

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the pharisees sure looked good that day, especially compared to the woman. 

they were all smart about the law of moses and sparkly in their special temple underpants and color-coded hats, standing there holding their rocks. 

and that poor woman, she was disheveled and red-faced; ashamed at being caught by the religious leaders in adultery and thrown down in the dust before the crowd, before the rabbi. 

it's not too hard to see why the role of pharisee is such a tempting, sneaky lie that we drift back to. it does look like "more fun."

but i am never going to reach my heart desire and soul's duty of being like jesus by trying to act like a pharisee. satan ever tries to trick me into thinking that if i pile enough sparkles on me and enough accusations on others, i'll somehow accomplish something for myself, but boy, what a lie. 

the way to jesus is straight through the dirt and dust. it's through seeing just how covered by it and choking on it i really am. and through letting him blow every speck of it away, and never forgetting that i am a child of dust ransomed to spotless life by "he who is without sin," the only one with a right to throw stones, condemn and shame me but who never, ever will. 

so i can hold on to my pathetic little rock, hoping to catch other people falling short, hurling my empty righteousness at them and bringing them low. OR i can stand on the solid rock of jesus. the christ the solid, perfect rock that no sin could ever etch, but that he chose to engrave with my name. 

like so much sin in my life, i tend to try to make it someone else's problem. it was never about miley. it was always about me, and that's never fun. but it is convenient since i'm the only one i have any control over anyway. i'm going to take that control and, in true VMA style, "hold up, hold up, imma let jesus finish" the work in me that he wants to do.

i'm not saying it's exactly the same as this...but it's close enough to depict the similarities of what i bet was going on in the hearts of these two different 20 year olds, 10 years apart. (also: she didnt have her tongue pierced)

*call me, miley! i think i'm finally mature enough to talk to you.