Everyone Could See Me

John 8:3-11

Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery, making her stand in the center. “Teacher,” they said to him, “this woman was caught in the act of committing adultery. In the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” They asked this to trap him, in order that they might have evidence to accuse him.

Jesus stooped down and started writing on the ground with his finger. When they persisted in questioning him, he stood up and said to them, “The one without sin among you should be the first to throw a stone at her.” Then he stooped down again and continued writing on the ground. When they heard this, they left one by one, starting with the older men. Only he was left, with the woman in the center. 10 When Jesus stood up, he said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

11 “No one, Lord,” she answered.

I remember how Jesus defended me. I had been led through the crowds. The temple was filled with people who were there for the festival. It was a time of joy and feasting, but not for me. Definitely not for me.

The temple police escorted me to Jesus. I was now the focus of everyone’s attention. I felt dirty and ashamed. Standing there I could feel the lustful looks from the Pharisees; but there was something else as well, a look from Jesus that I had never seen before. There was compassion there, something quite extraordinary.

I’m ashamed, I committed adultery, I had slept with another man who wasn’t my husband.

I was to be stoned, to have hard rocks thrown at me by “holy” men. The Law had pronounced my guilt, and I knew how I was to be punished. And I deserved it. Yet the man who I slept with was never charged, he escaped and it was I that would be put to death. I didn’t blame him.

My shame was now public knowledge–everyone knew, the Pharisees made sure of that.

They only put me front and center to test Him.

These men who brought me had ulterior motives, they desperately hoped Jesus would stumble. I think they wanted to prove once and all to the crowds that were watching that Jesus really wasn’t the Messiah. They wanted to trap him.

Jesus seemed to understand the implications of this satanic effort.

Only Rome had the power of execution, and yet the Mosaic Law declared that I was to die. I stood waiting, expecting the worst. What else could I do?

It’s funny, but Jesus understood all of this. He seemed to look right through this theological trick, and He responded in a way that really shocked everyone. He never spoke, but bowed low and began to write in the dirt with his finger. Amidst their vicious accusations, they pressed their case.

Jesus bent down again, and he wrote some more.

I never knew what he wrote–but I had to believe it must have been something that revealed the sin in the hidden hearts of the men who were accusing me. In that moment, they quickly dropped the case against me. They all filed out, one by one, in dramatic fashion. I now stood alone with Jesus.

And Jesus looked directly at me.

I was still afraid, but it was strange, I felt a wave of peace as well. I quietly waited, not knowing what He was going to say to me. I suppose I half expected the worst.

Yes, he did confront me. But He wanted me to acknowledge that those accusing men had left. I saw it and understood. Jesus was asking me to believe that I was now really free. But then he wanted me to understand something that seemed quite crucial.

“Neither do I condemn you,” said Jesus. “Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”

That dear one was a powerful moment. He set me free with the understanding that He did not condemn me. But my freedom from judgement came with a catch–sort of. I knew then that my sin must be renounced. My freedom came with a price. But knowing I was completely released, meant I was now a free woman.

At that moment I understood completely.

“God pardons like a mother, who kisses the offense into everlasting forgiveness.”

    Henry Ward Beecher

Jesus Writes in the Dust

John 8:3-11

Then the scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery, making her stand in the center. “Teacher,” they said to him, “this woman was caught in the act of committing adultery. In the law Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” They asked this to trap him, in order that they might have evidence to accuse him.

Jesus stooped down and started writing on the ground with his finger. When they persisted in questioning him, he stood up and said to them, “The one without sin among you should be the first to throw a stone at her.” Then he stooped down again and continued writing on the ground. When they heard this, they left one by one, starting with the older men. Only he was left, with the woman in the center. 10 When Jesus stood up, he said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

11 “No one, Lord,” she answered.

I remember how Jesus defended me from the religious men. I had been publically led through the crowds. The temple was filled with people who were there for the festival. It was a time of joy and feasting, but not for me. Definitely not for me.

The religious police escorted me to Jesus. I was now the focus of everyone’s attention. I felt dirty and ashamed. Standing there I could feel the leering looks from the Pharisees; but there was something else as well, a look from Jesus that I had never seen before. There was compassion there, something quite extraordinary. I saw a firm mercy.

I’m ashamed, but I had committed adultery. I slept with a man who wasn’t my husband.

I was to be stoned, to know hard rocks thrown by “holy” men. The Law had pronounced my guilt, and I knew exactly how I was to be punished. And I deserved it. Yet the man I slept with was never charged; he escaped, and I would be put to death. I didn’t blame him.

My shame was now public knowledge–everyone knew, the Pharisees made sure of that. Jesus had been accepted by some to be the Messiah and by others not so much. I wasn’t sure one way or another. I was in a daze, not able to even try to defend myself.

They only put me front and center to test Him. These men who brought me had ulterior motives, they desperately hoped Jesus would stumble. I think they wanted to prove once and all to the crowds that were watching that Jesus really wasn’t the Messiah. They tried to trap him.

Jesus realized the ugly implications of this satanic effort against Him.

Only Rome had the power of execution, and the Mosaic Law declared that I was to die. I stood waiting, expecting the worst. What else could I do?

It’s funny, but Jesus understood all of this. He looked right through this theological trick, and He responded in a way that really shocked everyone. He never spoke, but bowed low and began to write in the dirt with his finger. Amidst their vicious accusations, they pressed their case.

Jesus bent down again, and he wrote some more.

I never knew what he wrote–but I had to believe it must have been something about the sin of the men who were accusing me. At that moment, they dropped the case against me and left. They all filed out, one by one, in dramatic fashion. I now stood alone with Jesus.

Jesus looked directly at me. I was still afraid, but it was strange, I felt a wave of peace as well. I quietly waited, not knowing what He was going to say to me. I half expected the worst.

Yes, he did confront me. He wanted me to acknowledge that those accusing men had left. I saw it and understood. Jesus was asking me to believe that I was now really free. But then he wanted me to understand something that seemed quite crucial.

“Neither do I condemn you,” said Jesus. “Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.”

That dear one was a powerful moment. He set me free with the understanding that He did not condemn me. My new freedom came with a catch–sort of. I knew then that my sin must be renounced. My freedom came with a price. But knowing I was completely released, meant I was now a free woman.

At that moment I understood everything completely.

The Giant Goliath, and Sexy Bathsheba

I have wondered about this. It strikes me that there are two giants that David encountered in his walk with God. Granted, there are many other events and people that he experienced, obviously. But there are these two that stick out:

The Goliath showdown, and the Bathsheba fiasco.

These seem to be hinges or pivot points that would change the entire course of king David’s life, and his faith in God. They’re to be an encouragement and warning to us, as both are incredibly significant.

This is a powerful chapter, for it reveals David’s spectacular faith in God. When the boy David killed Goliath it changed the entire future of Israel. One stone from his sling was all it took. Israel routed the Philistine army. David’s faith was the spark that made victory real.

David became a hero that day, and quickly ascended into Saul’s favor. It was both a military and a political development that Israel needed and king Saul welcomed it, the kingdom thrived. The boy David became the man of the hour, a national hero which everyone talked about.

I’d like to point out that David had already been anointed by Samuel to be the next king. This, combined with David’s celebrity status pushed king Saul over the edge–Saul developed a deep resentment that became insanity. David handled this adroitly, fleeing into the wilderness (with his faith) for years.

At this point David is now king and is fighting the Ammonites. The Israelites were besieging Rabbah, the capital city of that country, and it seems like it’s an intense battle. But interestingly enough, David remained in Jerusalem. (And I can’t figure out why.) David can’t sleep so he paces the rooftop and it’s then things get crazy.

David spies Bathsheba who is cleansing herself from her monthly cycle. She is a very beautiful woman, and king David inquires about her. He lusts after her which results in him more or less raping her, commiting adultery and then murdering her husband. This is all very disturbing.

When David had sex with Bathsheba it set in motion the ugliest chain of events imaginable. It seems that up to now David has taken the intiative of events, and then, after this great evil, his story shifts and for the rest of his life he becomes acted upon, a “victim.” He reacts, but doesn’t act anymore.

For the rest of his life he will struggle. All because of lust.

In 2 Samuel 12 David is confronted by a prophet for these sins. Samuel speaks with a parable that penetrates David’s heart. The king responds, “he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity,” (v. 6). And interestingly enough, David would indeed pay fourfold. There would be four major incidents after this that he would now face.

David faced two “giants” in his walk with God. They were very different but both life altering. He killed Goliath but was not able to destroy his lust with Bathsheba.

Sometimes one “giant” is not enough. It would be nice if that was the case. David walked in victory for a period of time, but failed both himself, his family and his kingdom. Lust always is an act of the will, a deliberate decision that destroys all that it touches. David would be forgiven, but the damage was already done.

There would be dire consequences for everyone.

I believe that our giants were meant to be slaughtered. That is their function and purpose for the faithful believer. There can be no compromise. They’ll take different forms and will often approach you in peculiar ways. Paul tells us to wear God’s armor in Ephesians 6:11-18. I don’t think that protection should be taken off–you dare not only wear it only on special occasions.

Brother, sister–you must be covered all the time.

King David is a lesson for us. There is tremendous pain for us if we deliberately choose to compromise with the giants in our lives. Some of you already understand this; others will. I promise you.

    Oswald Chambers

Bryan Lowe

alaskabibleteacher.com

Deepen Your Repentance

Two Psalms followed David’s return to God after his sin with Bathsheba, and murdering Uriah. The sins of adultery and murder are terrible and yet David finds forgiveness from God for both. He responds properly to Nathan’s hard word. King David was a warrior of renown and a talented Psalm writer and he put together two Psalms that would guide others.

Many years ago I used an overhead projector in a class. I had two transparencies, the first projected a map on a screen showing boundaries–the second laid over the top showed the movements of an invading army. They complimented each other to show a point. One laid on top of the other to make it clear what happened. (I realized I just dated myself–I’m old.)

You might say that’s how I want to teach Psalm 51 and Psalm 32. Both are David’s serious remarks on his repentance. They’re the same incident, but incredibly different. They both explain his repentance in contrasting ways.

You see that one is a psalm; the other is a maskil.

A psalm is a guide for worship, something musical sung from the knees—an acclamation of a joyful song. The other type is different; it’s called a maskil, which is something wise and reflective, thoughtful and understanding. To write a maskil takes time to pull one’s thoughts together and share seasoned instruction.

I’ve chosen v.v. 1-2 (both due to obvious constraints of brevity.)

Psalm 51

__________

Psalm 32

Reading the two Psalms together like this, laid on top of each other, or, like two sides of a coin, gives us an idea of David’s repentance–an clear understanding and a real depth. How did he respond to God’s message from the prophet? How can we answer others when the Holy Spirit convicts us of sin?

Both a “subjective” psalm, and an “objective” maskil is necessary I think. They both are to become the daily practice of a believer, both communicate what is needful. One sings–the other teaches, but both should be done carefully.

Perhaps another way is to see the art and the science of it all. But a caveat here. Psalm 32 blends with the autobiographical theme just like Psalm 53 does. (See 32:2-5). It even seems the objective takes on a tear or two! I guess that’s how truth in God’s kingdom works?

Our theology needs tears, and our tears need theology.

(I hope this isn’t confusing.)

I want to encourage you to take your repentance even deeper. I want to see you stir up this beautiful gift. I will want to hear your song, and then to understand your reasons for singing so beautifully.

“The Christian who has stopped repenting has stopped growing.”

    A.W. Pink

alaskabibleteacher.com