Proven Guilty

{John 8:3-11}

3 The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst 4 they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. 5 Now in the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” 6 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. 7 And as they continued 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.” 8 And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. 9 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. 10 Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” 11 She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more” (ESV).

     Judgment… hypocrisy… condemnation… All of these topics can find their way into a sermon on this Passage of Scripture. And while these themes can be drawn out of this portion of Sacred Text, understanding its truth goes way beyond the actions of the scribes and Pharisees – who were acting according to the Law.
     While these themes are applicable, perhaps it was more about the woman and Jesus. It was less about “throwing stones,” and more about her sin. The fact of the matter is, she was guilty. She was guilty sin – found, proven, and convicted. All that was left was for her was to suffer the consequences. In fact, she should have paid for her sin. It would have been just. As it stood, she broke the commands of the Scripture and drove the wedge of separation between herself and the Almighty. Her sin was the voice of insult calling out against a holy God, and the Pharisees where right in proclaiming judgment upon her.
     Despite what she deserved, however, Jesus stood between her and her accusers. Jesus knew what she did; Jesus knew the severity of her crimes. He knew
that she stood condemned before Him, and yet He plead her cause. For a moment… just a moment… as she stood before the Pharisees, she may have thought it was God’s people that were her accusers. In that instance, Jesus showed her it was not the religious figures that were her accusers, it was her sin.
     Sin, like a crown of thorns, mars the image of the King. And yet Jesus, still, offered the woman grace. He stood and acknowledged that sin had pronounced judgment upon her, and, in the same breath, He released her from the consequences of that judgment. Jesus, true to His title – Savior – saved her from the accusations of sin. He delivered her from condemnation. This was a true instance of God’s amazing grace.
     While the presence of sin demands justice, the presence of Jesus pronounces forgiveness. Sin decrees pain and punishment; Jesus offers healing and restoration. Like the woman in the story, we are all guilty of some-sort of sin. Also, we deserve to pay the consequences of our actions. However, it is Jesus who can pardon. Jesus has the power to justify the guilty, and it is we who need Jesus!

"Beneath the Cross"

{Matt. 27:54; Mark 15:39; Luke 23:47; John 19:34-35}

          I will never forget it! It was the middle of the day, yet the skies had gone as dark as my soul. I am soldier… or I was a soldier. After that incident, I retired from Cesar’s service. I had seen death; I had been desensitized to the horrors bloodshed. Something, however, was different about that day.

            I had seen the lush, green fields along the Fertile Crescent transformed into ruddy and rosy seas of blood – the blood of Rome’s enemies. When the commands were given, I would kill without question. I suppose I would call myself an acquaintance with death. Even then, though, my neighbors have called me a friend of murder. Still, something was very different about that day. There may have been more, but I could only remember three deaths that afternoon – three, not thousands.

            It was not unusual to receive a mandate from the State. I was commissioned to perform as an executioner. For the three who had received the death sentence, one of them was different. He was very different. I had performed in this role before, but I had never seen anything like that. Every time before, the accused (those found guilty of breaking law) would protest, incessantly plead innocent, and beg for a different verdict. But not this man – not Jesus. He was silent. He didn’t even respond to the false accusations of his accusers. As far as I can remember, he only responded once to Pilot, and even then he did not try to change the verdict. I had never seen anything like it. It was almost as if he wanted to die. It did not make sense!

            The trek up the hill to Golgotha was remarkable as well, but it was what happened upon the hill that impacted me the most. I stood by the crosses; the papers for the execution of those three criminals tucked between my chest and my breastplate. As I waited for the final order from my captain, I was disgusted by what I saw. For the first time in years, I was truly distraught. Usually, a few citizens of Jerusalem would come out to watch a crucifixion. This time, though, they came out in droves. They did not come out to watch; they came out to cheer. They cheered on the death of Jesus. They mocked and spit and hurled insults at him. The crowds celebrated the coming of his death, like an empire celebrates the fall of its long-time enemy. It was a horrible scene. I am pretty sure I had never seen anything like it before. There was so much hate and hostility, it almost did not surprise me that the skies had gone black.

            I remember having to strain my ear over the curses of the people. It was difficult to hear what was being said from the crosses. Even the other two criminals scoffed and insulted Jesus. I watched intently to see what Jesus would do. He did the unexpected. Even as he hung there, he showed compassion to his mother – providing for her needs by offering her to the care of one of his few sympathizers. What is more, even in his pain, he offered a prayer to God. He begged God to forgive them for what they had done; he did not beg God to release him from his suffering. I was unfamiliar with this kind of mercy. I still ask myself why (and how) he could be so gracious. It is not like he was an angel or something – I watched the blood fall from his wrists. He faced death like no other human I had encountered.

It was those acts of compassion and love that even won over one of the criminals next to Him. It was His patient endurance what impacted me. You could have almost sensed a kindness in Him – even though we did everything we could to ensure the most excruciating and painful death. What happened next, I will never forget. He, again, cried out to the God of the Jews. But that time He screamed what seemed to be a declaration. He announced that “it was finished.” It was bone-chilling; I was convinced I had heard that before, by the victors of war or by triumphal gladiators. It was mysterious! You could tell He was in pain, but He was by no means defeated by the thought of His impending death. Following that, He shouted again. Somehow it appeared that He was still in control of His horrible situation; He offered up His spirit to the Lord. It seemed to me that He had extended His hand to God, and God responded. He finally breathed His last breath. I was relieved to see the suffering end.

It was getting late, and the Sabbath was coming with the dawn. I heard my captain yelling again. “Break their legs,” he said, “we can’t work on the Sabbath. Put them to death so we can bury them before the Sabbath!” I broke the legs of the other two so they would die quickly. Then I came to Jesus. It was pointless to break His bones because He was already dead. I howled for my captain. I tried to tell him that Jesus was already dead. My captain was suspicious, so he handed me a spear and told me to make sure. It was an order. I obeyed. I did what I was trained to do; I pierced His side. But the result was like nothing I had ever seen. It was not just blood that appeared, there was water as well. I remember being too close to Jesus’ side – the blood and water flowed over me. This mystery covered my hands and my chest, it reminded me of baptism. It was as if Jesus, from beyond the grave, was cleansing me of my wrongs – forgiving me. It was at that point when I changed. When I had seen the separation of the blood and water, I realized I had been separated from the truth. Jesus was who He said He was. He did have the power to forgive sins and offer life. Until that day, the only authority I had known solely had the power to take lives. But Jesus gave His. He gave His for me.

As I stood beneath that cross, I reached for my chest. I slid my fingers between my breastplate and my heart, and I took my papers of execution. Held loosely by shaky fingers, I looked upon the command I had been given. It said I was commissioned to execute Jesus. I couldn’t look at it any longer; I was disgusted. I loosened my grip of that cursed document – those orders of sin – and I watched as it fell to the ground. It seemed an eternity before it landed in the deep pool of His blood. His blood seemed to wash away its filthy directive - the assignment for such sin covered effectively by His blood. That was the last thing I could remember about that terrible day. I chose, that day, to let my sin fall also into the deep-pool of Jesus’ blood. As I stood beneath that cross, my burden was lifted and I was given a new one. I walked away from that place, dedicated to following in His ways. If He could show love, mercy, and compassion while suffering at my hand, I could do the same for Him.