As I read stories like this one, I wonder what role I might have played if I were in the narrative. Would I be the “sinner” (defendant), or would I be the “jury”? Or would I play the part of the judge?
If I am honest, I’ve been in all three seats at one time or another in my own story—none of them enviable roles. At times, I have been the offender. Other times, I’ve pleaded for “justice” or “punishment” for someone who sinned against me or a loved one. And, on rare occasions, I’ve sat in the Chief Justice seat with my kids, delivering judgment on offenses both big and small.
But as I close my eyes and try to visualize how this series of events transpired, I can only wonder what this woman was feeling as she faced certain death. Nowhere in this scene do we hear her speak up to defend herself. After all, she was literally caught in the act of adultery. She had no defense to offer. However, she had a Defender—a Savior—who cared for her more deeply than even her sins could take her.
What’s even more striking to me is the callousness of this woman’s accusers. Not only did they take her from the scene of her sin (they were likely staking out the place, knowing she would be there), but their true motives were revealed when they arrived at the temple. Their real goal was to trap Jesus.
“What could he possibly say or do to save this woman from death? If he speaks against the Law, we’ve got him!”
The problem from the outset with these men was that they had blinders on their own hearts. And at times, so do we. We can become so focused on the wrongs others are committing that we fail to see the chinks in our own armor.
Where are you in this story? You may not have committed adultery, and you likely haven’t dragged someone to their imminent death. But you and I can find ourselves in both capacities—offender and condemner. And it’s not until the eyes of our hearts are opened that we see our brokenness and find a Savior who loves us enough to step into the story and give us a new life.