Sunday, January 31, 2016

The Adulteress

This (story, poem, call it what you will) is based on the adulteress found in John 8:3-12.  She bears the powerful story of someone who fell, but stood back up.  I think we can all learn a lesson from her, regardless of where we've been and what we've done.  

What I have written is fiction based on facts recorded in the Bible.  You can read the real account in John 8, but this is my speculative interpretation of her story.



I will never forget his tear streaked face;
My husband,
As he led the crowd
Of my accusers.
As they were dragging me,
A filthy adulteress,
Unfit to even lay eyes on,
I wept.
I was guilty.
They were right to persecute me;
What’s done is done
What will be will be
I knew it to the depths
Of my profane, useless soul.
So I let them lead me
To my much deserved death.

The sudden silence filled
My now empty heart;
We had arrived.
I felt His gaze sweep over me
As I heard their condemning words
But I could not,
Would not look up
Unworthy filth that I was,
I shouldn’t even be standing.

“Teacher, this woman,”
Words flung with disgust
“Has been caught in the act of adultery”
From the lips of my beloved,
Though I was his no longer.
“The Law of Moses commands us
To stone such a woman.
What say you?”
Spoken with not just question,
But mockery
As if to test Him
When we all knew the answer.
I knew my fate.
Through my tears of anguish,
As I struggled to remain standing
I saw movement on the ground
In front of my own stooped figure.

What was He doing?

Writing?

Berated with questions
Holding my fate in His hands,
Yet scribbling in the dust?
I leaned forward
Ever so slightly
To see what He wrote,
But He stood up
And I cowered back
Awaiting the verbalization
Of my premature death.

Sorrow swept over me
As He stood, about to speak
And the men,
My accusers,
Picked up stones at their feet.
Tension encrusted the air
And the good Teacher spoke:
“Let him who is without sin among you,
Be the first to throw a stone at her.”

Silence.

Utter silence.

Then I heard a thud
The first stone hitting my sinful flesh
Didn’t they know the pain
That I was already feeling?
I am my beloved’s
But my beloved is not mine.
I hadn’t even felt their stone,
So deep was my sorrow.
Then I heard another,
But still I felt nothing.

I looked down at my body,
Still standing,
Still without blemish,
And realized that the thuds
Were that of stone on earth.
One by one they dropped them,
One by one they silently fled
Until there were none.
Slowly, I straightened
And looked around me.
The only One still there
Was the good Teacher,
Bent over and scribbling in the dust.
He stood and looked at me
Straight into my eyes
And for a moment,
I could not look away.

“Woman, where are they?
“Has no one condemned you?”
Regaining some composure,
I trained my gaze on the ground.
Despite my lack of condemnation,
I was still no better
Than the very dust on which I stood.
“No one, Lord,”
My whispered reply
Barely audible
As I trembled
Not knowing how he would punish me
Now that we stood alone
On a quiet street
“Neither do I condemn you;”
Said with such tender grace
“Go, and sin no more.”
This was all that was asked?
That I go and live purely?

I fell to my knees
With my face to the dirt
How did I get here?
Then I heard him speak again
Addressing those around Him
His faithful followers
Hanging on His every word.
He said those who follow Him
Know not the darkness around them.
The very darkness
That gripped my fragile soul.
That had gripped it for so long
That I had let rule me.
The darkness
That had been my demise.
And great was my fall.


I looked up in wonder
At the stoic face
Eyes encouraging, confirming,
And as I stood to go
Remarkably not dead
And perhaps to live
For the very first time
I thought
Maybe it’s true,
What they say about Him.
Maybe this Yeshua
This Teacher, this Man,
Is truly the Messiah
Here to save not just me,
But all of us.

So I went,
And I believed.
I had found it.
The One true source of Light.
I would go.
I would sin no more.
I would live.
I would walk in the Light
As He is in the Light.
And I would take back

What the darkness had stolen.

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