A Stone's Throw Away

It was Friday, June 17, 1994.

I was 7, my sister was 12, and we were nestled in the back room of my grandparents' house, likely munching on mini Kit Kat bars and learning how to burp on command with our Coca-Colas (sorry, Mom).  We spent many a Friday night there watching TGIF and gorging ourselves on sweets.

But on this particular Friday night, our favorite shows (and apparently the NBA finals) were interrupted by breaking news.

A white Ford Bronco was being tailed by cops as it coasted down the road in California.

This meant little to me, as I was young and uninformed of current events.  All I knew was the man driving the Bronco must have done something...bad.

I suppose you realize that the man driving the Bronco was the infamous OJ Simpson, who was being accused of murdering ex-wife Nicole Brown and Ronald Goldman just days earlier.

OJ's trial is perhaps one of the most notorious ever.  He had a strong history of violent behavior, and all evidence pointed clearly that he was as guilty as homemade sin.

And yet, in 1997, a jury deliberated.  And returned.  And revealed that they had unanimously voted that he was not guilty.

It was the shock heard round the world.  Those who had invested their time and emotion in the case were dumbfounded, as OJ lit with excitement at the news of his newfound innocence.

Most people today still feel certain of his guilt.  But on that day, he wasn't found guilty.  And he went free.

Nearly seven months ago, on July 5, 2011, history appeared to repeat itself when the controversial trial of Casey Anthony came to a close.  Like OJ, the vast majority of the public seemed to agree that this defendant was quite certainly a murderer and, perhaps, dead woman walking.

I watched much of the trial and media coverage surrounding the untimely death of Caylee Anthony and her mother's apparent lack of grief and concern concerning her disappearance.  That day in July, I was cooped up in a Starbucks waiting for Dru to finish his first CPA test, when my mother called me with the news.

"Well, did you hear?" she said ominously.  "Not guilty."

My eyes bulged, my face felt hot, and I was consumed with disbelief.

"What?!"  I exclaimed.  "How?!"

I can remember taking to Facebook to convey my rage, accusing jurors of having sub-par IQs.  There was no way she wasn't guilty.  And yet, like OJ, she was getting away with it and going free.

It's hard to watch those kinds of things, isn't it?  As humans, we demand justice to be served, prices to be paid.

But these people just get to go free.  They can't ever be tried again for these crimes.  A "not guilty" verdict means we presume innocence and [gulp] move on.

But as I watched with gritted teeth the verdict reading for Casey Anthony for what seemed the 100th time on the news that evening, I sensed the Lord tapping on my shoulder.  I was hoping He was there to agree with my anger.  It was "righteous" anger after all, right?  Her satisfied smirks and relieved, dramatic weepiness made my skin crawl.

But He tapped me again, clearly trying to open my eyes to something else.  Something uncomfortable.

"What, Lord?!" I wanted to say.  "This woman is despicable!  She is vile!  She's guilty, and I know it!"

I felt Him gentle as a breeze but steady as the wind.

"Oh, Child," He seemed to whisper.  "Don't you see?  She may not be getting what it seems she deserves.  But neither are you."

Yuck.  I didn't want to see it that way.  I still don't.  I don't want to be compared to her.  I'm not a murderer or abusive.  I could never do those things.  She's way worse.

But is she?  Is she really worse than I am?

Suddenly, looking at her felt like gazing at a looking glass under the harshest lighting, where no flaw can be concealed.

Casey Anthony and I are [gag, retch, vomit] alike in some ways.  She is a sinner.  And so am I.  I may not be a murderer, but I've slaughtered people with hurtful words.  I've lied when I felt the truth was too embarrassing.  I've been proud and self-seeking.

In truth, just by being a human, I'm guilty.  Psalm 51:5 tells us that we were guilty at birth, sinful from conception.  When I fall short of God's glory--and I do, every single day--it hurts Him, grieves Him, displeases Him.

I, too, am despicable, vile, guilty.  I know it.  And He does, too.  I can't fool Him with big words, fancy phrases, or self-righteous statements.

There is Someone always present at my "crime scenes," Who could so easily testify of my faults and judge me guilty.  And the sentence would, indeed, be a fate worse than death.

All of this reminds me greatly of when Jesus was urged by the Pharisees to stone an adulterous woman.  She had been caught red-handed.  And based on the law, it was clear what her sentence should be--death.

There she sat on her knees--dirty, guilty, ashamed, and surrounded by a sea of self-righteous scribes, stones in hand, ready to let her have it.

Oh, the bloodlust that must have been in their eyes.  The pride in their hearts.  The satisfaction that justice would be served.

But sweet Jesus looked at the woman.  He knew what she had done.  He saw her heart.  And, yet, he ruled otherwise.

He looked at the men and spoke sternly in her defense:  "Ye without sin, cast the first stone."

Surely, the Pharisees (like me) gritted their teeth, perhaps nearly crumbled their stones in their greedy hands.  The temptation must have surged like a live wire in their arms to throw anyway.  But one by one, the stones dropped.  One by one, the crowd of men scattered.

Only Jesus remained.  The only one who could have cast a stone.

I love what he says to her.  Oh the compassion, the mercy that exists in his words.  After calling her attention to the lack of judgment around her, he says, "Neither do I condemn you.  Go and sin no more" (John 8:2-11).

Like Casey and OJ and the adulterous woman, I deserve a good stoning.

But someone else who loved me decided that it didn't have to be that way.  He took all my "crimes," my sin, my guilt on his shoulders.  Even though he was and is innocent.  Even though he was and is perfect.  The price was paid for what I've done and will do, but I didn't have to pay it.  Because he did, I am also found with a shocking verdict of "not guilty."

If you know me, you know that verdict couldn't be further from the truth.  But because I believe in Him, praise Jesus, it is so.

What's more, I can't be tried for the same things again--He forgives and forgets, remember?  He doesn't rehash what you've done when you've repented and turned around; any notion that He seeks to inflict further guilt on you is a lie straight from the pit of hell.

But I can't just be complacent with being let go.  Being not guilty compels me to leave the old behind and move on.

By no means do I seek to condone what OJ and Casey might have done (after all, I guess we'll never know for sure?).  But I hope you, too, will realize that we don't necessarily get the verdict we deserve.  That you aren't any better than they are.  And that you will fall to your knees in gratitude and become something better with your newfound innocence.

Our exoneration is wonderful and perplexing, isn't it?

By golly, it's enough to make the outside world grit their teeth.

But look around...

Does anyone condemn you?

Neither does He.

Go and sin no more.

From East to West

Distance from east to west across the state of Tennessee: 440 miles.

Distance from east to west across the continental United States: approximately 3,148 miles.

Distance from east to west across Earth (diameter): approximately 8,000 miles.

Distance from east to west from the sun to Pluto (yes, I still count Pluto as part of the solar system): 5,906,376,272 kilometers.

Distance from east to west across the Milky Way: approximately 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 kilometers.

Distance from east to west across the visible universe: approximately 28 billion light years (one light year = 9,500,000,000,000 kilometers).

****

Temptation is hard to resist, isn't it?

Think back to a time (perhaps it was recently, perhaps not) when you did something you weren't supposed to.  Maybe you took something that wasn't yours.  Said something ugly.  Looked at something you shouldn't have.

Think of how you felt just before you did it.  The appeal was so lovely, wasn't it?  It drew you in like a magnet, grabbed onto your thoughts and wouldn't let go.  If only......if only I could......

The force was just too much, and even though you knew, you knew it wasn't right, you did it anyway.

As a kid, I had an overly sensitive conscience.  I rarely got into trouble, but I had a habit of dwelling on situations and feeling guilty about them.

What if I didn't deserve the good grade I got?

What if I unintentionally hurt that person by what I said?

One time I even told a teacher to mark down a good grade I had gotten on a test because I told her I had accidentally looked at someone else's paper.  I hadn't seen any answers, but it made me feel like I had cheated, and I couldn't live with not having some sort of punishment for it.

Each week, there was something new that I obsessed about in my thought life.  Feeling guilty.  Feeling like I ought to be punished.  Feeling like I didn't deserve to be forgiven.

My mother noticed how preoccupied I had gotten with these sorts of things, and she pulled me out of my room one sunny afternoon to watch a Beth Moore video with her.  The video accompanied a Bible study my mom was doing at the time about the life of David.  I was quickly enamored with Beth's vivacious personality and engaging speaking style. 

She began to talk about David's sin of lusting after Bathsheba.  Which led to adultery.  Which led to lies.  Which led to murder.

David was looking pretty bad.  And yet, Beth said, when he finally repented--truly repented--God forgave him.  He forgave him.  Yes, his actions still had consequences (the baby he conceived with Bathsheba died), but the beautiful thing is that once God forgave him, that was it.  He didn't hold it against him.

And you know what else?  God even called David a man after His own heart! 

Really?  A liar?  An adulterer?  A murderer?  You've got to be kidding!

But it's true!  If we're ready to come back to Him, He's ready to take us back.  And He loves us no less.

Looking back, I really don't think I had done anything truly wrong in those instances that I mulled over as a kid (I know that those thoughts weren't healthy, and I no longer have those).  But there have certainly been times in my life where I have committed a sin...and even though I knew it was wrong, I did it anyway.  And I kept doing it. 

Gossip.  Destructive speech.  Arrogance.  Judging others.

And time and time again, the Holy Spirit will prick my heart and remind me that I really shouldn't be doing it.  And when I fall to my knees in repentance, I don't have to fear that He'll cross His arms and turn a cold shoulder to me.

Quite the opposite!

Listen to the glorious words of Psalm 103: 8-10, 12:

The Lord is compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger and full of faithful love.
He will not always accuse us
or be angry forever.
He has not dealt with us as our sins deserve
or repaid us according to our offenses.

As far as the east is from the west,
so far has He removed our transgressions from us.

Is there something you've done that you feel terrible about?  Stop waiting for your punishment and start looking for His grace.

He isn't waiting to tell you that He told you so.  He isn't waiting to make you feel like the lowest of the low.  He died for you so that you wouldn't have to feel that way.

He loves you.  And He misses you when you're gone.

And all this brings me back to one more distance...

****

Distance east to west from you and your forgiven sin: "one scarred hand to the other."
(Casting Crowns, "East to West")

"If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness."  ~ 1 John 1:9