What's in a name?

So, I'm terrible at naming people. I, personally, think we ended up with some really great baby names for our girls, but it wasn't easy. Even when they just kind of came to me and I absolutely loved them, I was terrified to seal the final say on it. A name is so much of who a person is...and did I really want a child to be London Grace or Story Elizabeth forever? What if they hated it? Would they thank me later for them, or pretend their name is something more cute and fun...(I was always tiffany while pretending, but that had more to do with a friend being named Tiffany :))

The first names are just names I liked. London I thought was pretty and can you imagine her with any other name now? Story was the same. I'm an English major and story has always been a word that has so much more meaning than just words strung together. Their middle names, however, were different. Grace. A word that gives hope. A transcending hope that wipes away tears and gives a heartbeat back to a heart that was dead inside and empty. Elizabeth. A woman of God. Remembered by God in old age, just as Sarah. Chosen to carry the baby that would grow up and announce the coming of the Messiah! The mother and nurturer of the one that made the paths clear for the Rescuer of the world. The One that would bring Grace. Elizabeth was the one that housed a terrified young girl that came to her at a time when her world was flipped upside down when she was chosen as the mother of our Lord and was carrying within her Hope. Elizabeth was a friend and mentor.

Our girls are quite different, as is to be expected. Earlier, Story was running from one destructive activity to the next and after the billionth time of telling her "no." I asked her if we should change her middle name to it, but I was stopped mid-sentence. No, we should not. I do not want my child to grow up and become that. I want her to grow and become Elizabeth. I want her to focus on helping others and have a joy in the Lord that only comes from something deep and personal with Him. Grace. I don't want London to find her identity in clothes and sparkly things. I want her to be a woman that can barely contain her joy and love for others because she lives with the knowledge that she's given Grace. I want her to be forgiven, but to forgive others. I want those things for both of them, and I want them to grow up friends that will sharpen each other as iron sharpens iron. I'm grateful for that constant reminder of my end goal on days where I cover cut wall stickers with packing tape to keep fingers away or wash the same dishes a billion times. THIS is why it stresses me out to name people! It's not about now, it's not even completely about later. It's about the in between.

And do note, this is not a pregnancy announcement. Just sharing about today's thoughts...somehow, if I mention anything about children, at least one person will ALWAYS think I'm pregnant, but I'm not ;) lol

Order from Chaos

Any mother could tell you the different things they love about each of their children. It's not that you love any child more than another, it's just different. London Grace is special. She's sweet and compassionate. She's what I hope to be when I'm refined by the Lord. She cares and is grateful, truly. Story is crazy. I'm not even kidding. She is joy in the purest sense of the word. She makes me laugh until I cry and keeps me and London both from ever taking ourselves too seriously.

Other than her amazing compassion, London is very much me. We care too much about things we shouldn't, and I hope so badly to conquer some of the sins we both struggle with before she's older so that I can be a testimony to her for what the Holy Spirit can do.

Story is Lance. Dead out. It's not just the fair skin and red hair. They're crazy. I'm telling you. Most people don't get to see my hunny in his purest form, but the boy is crazy funny. He's goofy and sweet and passive. I love both of my girls, oh so very much, but one of the many reasons I love Story is because when I look at her, I see a man I love more than any other person on this Earth. I see all his good and bad characteristics all balled up into a little blue eyed girl.

On the same note, I have a friend/mentor that I love love love to go visit. She sharpens me, and I always leave her loving my kids and husband a little more than when I got there. The last time I visited her, I left trying to put my finger on just what I loved so much about her. I got home and was greeted by silly little Story and it hit me. My friend reminds me so much of the Father that I love so very much. We are all image bearers of God, but some people resemble Him in their actions much better than the rest of us. I leave her with a smile thinking, I love Him so much. I want so badly to be that way. I wish so badly that I could hide myself in Him so that any positive trait someone did find, they would automatically attribute it to Him.

I've been wanting to rename my blog for awhile now. Tastes of Chaos is still a bit fitting for our crazy home, but not for the heart of it. In this current season, I no longer want to accept the chaos in our lives. God makes order from chaos and He can do that in my life as well. As I reread the last few posts of mine, I feel like that that topic seems to be the very heart of my writing now, and therefore, a fitting title. All that to say, my blog has a new title and I hope that my life experiences can continue to grow to fit the name :).

Dedication and arrows. The same, right?

We just celebrated Story's dedication this past Sunday night. There was homework that went along with it to have prepared, and we were to share one part with our family at our table. It was the easiest part for me. We were to imagine who we want our child to be in 18 years. Proverbs says that children are like arrows. Arrows are something you shoot into a battle you may never even be in. You aim straight and true. The homework was not difficult because I've already thought about where to aim my girls. I'm constantly readjusting and leaning to aim as they become different in my hands. They become stronger and less likely to break when shot out as they grow. They become curved a bit as I learn more and more about their unique personalities, which causes me to lean right or left opposite them, to ensure they're still aiming true. They're still young, I'll hand you that. 18 months and 3 years is a tender age. But, I don't know when I'll have to shoot and let go. So, I stay aimed.

This Sunday was just a reminder of that. A reminder that these are my children, but they're not. That this is our home, but it's not. That I have a plan for them, but I don't.

Motherhood carries so much responsibility. So many worries. So much stress. How wonderful it is at the end of the day to let go and know that He is in charge and not I. Not I, with my grand plans of who my children will turn out to be. Not I with my limited knowledge. Not I, with my mortal shortcomings and failures. After all, it wasn't I that planned these children in the first place, so He showed from the beginning how much He knows better than me.

Simply Ten in the midst of Moving

A list of simply ten. Ten things of the here and now to help live in the moment and be grateful for it.

1) a late (second) breakfast for little girls with wet little heads from bath time

2)pancakes made from scratched and frozen for convenience at times like now

3) boxes stacked high that are so much more than just boxes

4) a very good man that painstakingly takes apart a very large wooden swing set that he painstakingly put together a year ago, only to painstakingly put it back together in a new backyard....without complaint

5) two little girls that love to sing and dance along with Annie

6) a moment taken away from 18 billion things on the to do list to sit and reflect and write...even if only a list

7) awakening before the rest of the house while it's still dark to sit, write, pray, read, and prepare

8) the beauty in dawn as a gift for that early rise

9) footie pj's on little girls that refuse to dress, which is just fine with mama

10) knowing that home is less about rooms and things and more about tickled bellies, smells of homemade bread and cookies, dirty windows, and slow dances in the kitchen after the little ones are in bed

Psalm 51:7

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I

will be clean;

wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.

Psalm 51:7

cleanse me....my study bible says that phrase literally means "un-sin" me. If Lance sins against me, I can forgive but I will always have it there...in the back of my mind...even if I don't think on it, something can bring it to the front of my mind even if I don't hold feelings against it...it's there.

Un-sin me....it's the closest we'll get to time travel, folks. It's not even there to bring up in mind. whiter than snow. so good.

meaningful relationships

This morning while reading, I came across Psalm 69. I jump all over the Bible when I finish books instead of going in a row, but I always find myself back in the Psalms every few books. The raw emotion throughout these poems always bring an English major like me back to its pages. We often hear Psalms quoted, but it's usually from verses of praise or a happy ending. Have you noticed that? Psalm 40, for example says

I waited patiently for the LORD;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the LORD
and put their trust in him.

Psalm 40:1-3

I love that psalm and can so relate to the truth of it. However, there are other psalms, like 69, that does not have a happy ending. David is drowning in life, and though he praises God even through his hardship and trusts God, He hasn't saved him yet. We know the history. We know David died a great king, old, happy, and with many sons to be there to take over his thrown. David, however, did not see his happy ending when he was writing this.

Save me, O God,
for the waters have come up to my neck.
I sink in the miry depths,
where there is no foothold.
I have come into the deep waters;
the floods engulf me.
I am worn out calling for help;
my throat is parched.
My eyes fail,
looking for my God.
Those who hate me without reason
outnumber the hairs of my head;
many are my enemies without cause,
those who seek to destroy me.

Psalm 69:1-4

Do those words break your heart? When I read this this morning, I felt my heart ache. Not really because I can relate, though I can, but because I wondered how often I walk past or TALK to people on a regular basis that could have written these verses just yesterday.

Our Journey group was just discussing this past week about how disconnected our culture is today. We know more about more people, but less about those people than ever. Facebook has tricked us into thinking we have tons of friends. It has made us believe that its purpose is to connect us with people we don't have time to see. The truth of the matter is that at one time, we had a few deeper relationships and more surface level ones, and we have traded those few deeper connections for 549 surface level ones. Sure, you can see pictures of their baby, but will you ever actually hold that little one? Yes, you know she got the job, but did you buy her a coffee when she was desperate for a paycheck? Better yet, did you take her to dinner?

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸ When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? ³⁹ When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.

Matthew 25:37-40

How many people are hurting like David and I just walk right past them? Or chat to them about something superficial and they are drowning? Am I ministering to people? Have I lost so much sensitivity to the Spirit that I can't even recognize when a child of His hurts, a person created in His image, that He knit together while in their mother's womb? I'm sad to say that the answer is yes. Just like our pastor was saying last week, it is impossible to have a meaningful relationship with absolutely everyone, but I no longer want to sacrifice those relationships that I can invest in on the altar of American culture. "for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink to the miry depths, where there is no foothold." Oh God, help us to love You and your children. "I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched. My eyes fail, looking for my God."

If a friend is sinking and parched from calling for God, the only practical thing to do is to hold them up and call for them.

Those pink walls

So, we're moving soon. We were given an incredible opportunity to move into Lance's grandmother's home for a little while, giving us time to save money for a downpayment on a home of our own sooner than we expected. There are tons of positives to it all, and some things that are leaving me a bit anxious...like the girls will be sharing a room. ....stay tuned for those blog posts lol.

I had had it today with London's room and the absolute chaos that it had become, so I went in to clean. Her room is decorated with tons of pink, and had little music note stickers all over the wall above the rockingchair rail. I decided to go ahead and take them off now, while I was in You're Room is Awful! mode, hoping it'd be an easier transition into a bare room later on. As I started peeling off the stickers, I was instantly transported in my mind into a room, dark with a fan going, a rocking chair in the corner, and a little baby girl quietly sleeping. We moved here when that baby was 6 weeks old, and it's all she's ever known.

Our home is small, older, and has some serious plumbing issues that flair up every few months, but it's our home. We love it. I hate to add up the money we've spent in rent since living here, but what a home it's been. Those pink walls have sheltered my baby girl. They've protected her from the chaotic world outside, from the cold, the heat, the bugs (ew). More importantly, they've witnessed so much. They've sheltered us as I cried in that rocking chair, exhausted from lack of sleep and desperate for the baby to stop crying. They've sheltered as I have completely lost my cool and temper on a two year old. Then, they sheltered as I came back in to apologize and hug her. They've been there countless times in the night, when I crept in unnoticed to get on my knees by her bed to pray for her. To pray that I could do this. To pray that I could give her the love and attention she needs with a new little sister on the way and then there. To promise God that I'd parent her and love her and love her daddy. To give her to God, for His plans...and only some of those times because I was exasperated and at the end of my rope ;).

Oh, those pink walls...and we're only on one room.

Band Wife

I'm a band wife. Worship band wife, to be precise. I married a guitarist, and while many girls dream of a man that can play and instrument for them and sing them a song, they normally don't quite understand what comes along with that package.

A band practices...hopefully. Lance practices every Thursday night, like tonight, and on his own through the week. He's gone early Sunday morning to run through the set once more. Yep, I know the set list usually by heart by the time I'm actually in the service.

There was a time in my marriage when I thought this was a sacrifice. My sacrifice...for God? for the church? I'm not really sure. I just knew I was sacrificing! I would be home alone with a toddler and pregnant or two little ones, doing the routine myself. Even tonight, we picked up the house, ate dinner, brushed teeth, prayed and got into bed with just us girls. I'm currently sitting here instead of taking a relaxing bath because the littlest little one is being especially lovely and yelling while throwing every single thing out of her crib, only to yell wanting it all back in.

I used to think it was sacrifice. Some months ago, I realized that I no longer think of it as that. I think it was when another person at church thanked me for letting my husband serve! It really is such a kind and thoughtful gesture to make when people remember me and give me credit for arriving with not only both children but both their church bags AND my coffee. That's a Sunday miracle each week ;). But, no, not a sacrifice.

There is a difference between being selfish, being selfless, and just doing what's right. Just doing what God has asked and called us to do. It looks different in all families. In my family, it looks like girl time on Thursdays, no male to witness how many outfits we go through on Sunday mornings, and me serving God in the way He called me to do in this season, through my girls. I see sleepy faces and twirling in church dresses as they're just put on. I have long conversations with my almost 3 year old on the way each Sunday about class and their topic and God and His love and Dora...yeah, they both love animals.

There are women who are raising up children on their own because fathers not only refuse to follow God, they won't follow what is simply Right. Good. And me? On Thursday nights, I am alone in the hugs, kisses, giggles, running into walls because they won't slow down racing to grab the children's bible to read, and kissing boo boos. Alone because my husband is blessed enough to love guitar and be allowed to worship through it.

I wonder what other "sacrifices" are in my life that I should be reevaluating? The littlest one is quiet now, so I shall ponder it while relaxing.

What I Wish I Had Known before becoming a Parent

Recently, Lance and I deactivated our facebook accounts. I reactivate mine on the weekends, allowing myself to catch up on recent life changes of friends, and it also allows me to upload pictures of the girls from that week for grandparents to enjoy.

Overall, I greatly dislike facebook; however, there is one aspect of it that I truly love. I LOVE getting online to see happy announcements of engagements, weddings, pregnancies, and births. I see a good share of unhappy events as well, but being 25 and about 98% of my friends on there being female, I see more happy news. It seems to come in spurts as well. Less than a year ago, I couldn't believe the number of pregnancy announcements covering my news feed each day. It dropped off and they seem to be beginning again, while that last group is about to cover my news feed with tiny little smooshed faces and happy parent pictures.

As I sat looking through the feed last night seeing announcements in between other statuses I don't care near as much about ;), I thought about this time three years ago. I was 8 months pregnant with my first child. I never thought that I'd have children, growing up. I always said I'd be in another country, unmarried, childless, and happy. I wince now when I think of my careless words. Sigh..the arrogance of youth. which again just makes me laugh, since I'm 25 which means that you may be reading blog posts every three years about how arrogant I was three years ago ;).

Because of that arrogance and pride, it took longer than it should have for me to fully come to grips that I would be a mother. Then, when I finally accepted it, I was determined to be the best mom I knew how to be. That included a lot of reading, research, and sacrifice. I was certain I'd nurse my baby, even if the entire idea still completely weirded me out. I was going to make her babyfood myself, which actually turned out ridiculously easy anyway, thank the Good Lord. But I had a whole list of things I'd do. In my head, I loved this baby and I was going to prove it through how good of a mom I was going to be. Gentleness never even occurred to me.

It didn't help that my LEAST favorite part of pregnancy is the attention it draws to my body from other people. Stupid comments made by strangers or loved ones would infuriate me, leaving me to cry later when I was alone, scared to death of what was happening within me and what would happen later.

Thinking through all of that from this side of it, I was thinking of what I wish I had known then. I decided I'd blog it, if nothing else than perhaps someone that is or will be there will gain some sort of confidence from it.

I wish I had known that preparing myself to be the best mom wasn't the same as love. That everything I did or do means nothing if at the end of the day, I don't do it out of the unconditional love that drives a servant's heart.

I wish I had known that it doesn't matter who you offend. It doesn't matter who wants to take pictures of or hold your baby. It doesn't. It will in a few hours, but not then. When your child is born, what matters is that as many of the first few hours as you need are all about you as a family. You, daddy, and baby. Sorry, random distant relative, but you absolutely aren't a priority right now. I first saw London's face through a picture on my dad's phone. They took her to do vitals before I could even hold her and kept her for two hours. For two hours, I sat alone in my hospital room on the verge of tears wondering what kind of mess I'd gotten myself into. I was more protective with Story. She laid on me until I was good and ready to share her, and even then it wasn't long. I fought for months at trying to get the same connection and relationship between London and I that I had with Story in minutes. no, seconds.

I wish I had known how fleeting the delivery is. I was so scared and nervous, that I had looked at it from such a wrong angle. I was self conscious, fearful, and distant. It was not long anyway with London, but I disconnected myself without even realizing it in an effort to save face. I didn't want to do or say anything while in that moment that would give fuel to stories that would get told later about my behavior while in pain. (yes...it's dumb that women would talk and dumb that I'd care)

I wish I had known that in that moment, it's not about what I did. It's not about what the nurse did, who the doctor was, or any one of those things. What matters is that God, the Creator of the Universe and your baby, stops everything else important in your life and says TIME. And what comes forth is your hope for the future. Your heart and soul in the form of a living being. That gentleness overcomes environment, and love casts out fear.

Peace, practically.

I've been reading so many good posts lately about the words that women have been claiming over this new year. Peace was the word I settled on a couple of weeks ago. It was the word I felt 2011 missed most in my life. The verse written on our framed chalkboard in the kitchen for me to see regularly is Philippians 4:7, but I would have written more of its context if I'd had the room.

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:4-7 NIV

Every once in awhile, I will be reading a book of the Bible and stumble upon verses I've read who knows how many times and all of a sudden, they have clear, precise, and complete practical application. These verses supplied one of those moments recently. Paul has broken down the path to peace here so that even I can understand it.

Rejoice in the Lord! Be gentle. Do not be anxious. Be thankful. Present petitions to God. And you will have peace.

Rejoice, be glad or happy, in the Lord, not sad or unhappy. Be gentle, even in hard times, don't be rough or harsh. Don't carry worry around or stress about things that won't add another minute to your life. Gratefully go before God with petitions instead of ungratefully venting to Him. and you have it. Peace. not just peace, but peace that transcends all understanding, and will guard your heart AND your mind in Christ!

So many things about the Christian walk is so over analyzed or complicated, that I feel such a relief when I feel like something that has felt so impossible suddenly feels attainable. sigh...peace. Not a single moment, not a cup of coffee and book before my kids spill it on the pages, not a place, not a pinterest picture, peace...the peace of God.

my 2011

Is it too late for a 2011 recap? I have been pondering over the last year as of late and thinking on what 2011 meant for me and the family entrusted to me. Lance and I grew even closer than we had been before. We saw our favorite band in our favorite city.

Our oldest turned two, became completely potty trained (YAY!), learned to climb her swingset ladder, got 6 stitches, became even more girly, battled and defeated fear in many ways, and developed in the personality God gave her a little more, becoming even more lovable.

Our youngest turned one. She learned to crawl, to walk, to run, to talk, to feed herself, and pretty much everything one needs to be independent. She spent most of 2011 in a sling, tied close to her mama's heart because she wouldn't have it any other way. She fought with the dog we got in 2011, played with her big sister, and displayed to everyone dance moves you wouldn't believe a child that young could have.

I started my blog Little Hands on www.jonesboro.com and got an opportunity to share weekly a little here and there of the happiness that runs amok in our home. We began hosting a Journey Group young married Bible study in our home that meets weekly and developed relationships with people that I now call our closest friends.

I also had some dark valleys in 2011. I learn a little more each year that I not only do not know everything like I once believed, but I actually know nothing. I resolved in 2011 to not only not voice opinions as much as I could, but to not even have the opinions to voice. To make my mind a positive blank slate. I'm still working on that one, by the way. I pulled away from leadership in any way as much as I possibly could, increasingly aware of my ineptitude at being a leader or role model.

I also walked through dark places with God. I wasn't aware at the time that I was walking with Him. In fact, I not only thought He was not walking with me, at times, I battled a deep question of "does He actually exist at all?"

That's probably shocking for a lot of people, and I'm glad because not only is it incredibly hard to admit to, I did a fairly good job at hiding it. I tried to keep up an outward appearance of high faith, not for others, but for myself. Situations in 2011 caused me to question motives, trust, and goodness, not only in other people, but in God. What if I've given up so much, sacrificed, put my whole heart and whole belief system into a faith, a community, and a God that in the end isn't there? Silence. So. much. silence.

I cried out for a Word. For the Spirit that was supposed to be in me to yell inside my heart, He exists! He's real! He's good! He LOVES you!

silence.

I prayed so many times. Cried out. I begged to have faith in what I was still teaching my children.

silence.

then, it happened. It wasn't a shout. It was soft. a whisper.

a deep, innate assurance.

He is real. I hesitated. Was that my mind? I so badly wanted to be at a place I had been. I listened again. I continued, waiting quietly. I continued silently praying. Then, I resolved to stop crying out. To be still, and silent before Him. To wait patiently before Him. Then, the whisper continued within my soul. It became deeper. Never louder, just...deeper.

It spoke to my soul and filled so many cracks in my heart and mind. Over a few months, the voice grew within me. Then, I knew. I knew He'd been there all along. He'd walked beside me at times where it was too dark to see Him there. When I was too loud with the noise in my life and my own thoughts and fears to hear His voice. He was there. He's still here. Patience is not my strong point. I'm working so hard at fixing that, but it has grown in 2011. Two little people with big needs help that a lot, but so has my walk. By October, so many verses slammed my heart. By that point, I no longer doubted His existence, but I felt so small, so insignificant, that He missed me. That maybe I'd done something wrong and searched frantically for the barrier that I'd placed between us, and I couldn't find it to tear it down.

Oh, 2011...you were so hard, but I know that even when I'm 80 (unless I get to go home before then :)), I'll remember that year. I'll remember those dark places that He illuminated, and those questions He answered.

I waited patiently for the LORD;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the LORD
and put their trust in him.
Blessed is the one
who trusts in the LORD, who does not look to the proud,
to those who turn aside to false gods.
Psalm 40:1-4

so good. and I can assure you, so true.

Extending Grace

There are so many creations on this earth that I marvel at. I get completely sidetracked by nature, even if I've seen the particular tree or whatever 100 times. Seasons, animals, people. The creation I have fallen in love with overall the most, however, is woman. Look around. I have yet to find another creation of His more beautiful, frail, strong, fleeting, constant. We come in different sizes, noise levels, shapes. Men reflect so many attributes of God, but we are also an image bearer in our own rights as well. We carry within us the nurturing, comforting, peace of God in our creation and in His Spirit.

With that being said, what's the fastest way to befriend a woman? Compliment her? no. Find something in common that you both like? Maybe for some, but no. Slander? yes. The very fastest way to make a friend with another female is to cut down something or someone around you. Think about it. Sitting in class, or a waiting room, or whatever. You could make small talk or compliment her shoes and sometimes it will begin a conversation, but it'll likely die out. However, make a comment about the teacher's clothes, or the doctor taking a ridiculous amount of time when you have much better things to do. She'll jump right on board. Not she. We. me.

I've been thinking lately on John 8:1-11. I'm going to go ahead and post it so we'll be on the same page. It's the story of the accused woman standing in front of Jesus in the temple.

"1but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives.
2 At dawn he appeared again in the temple courts, where all the people gathered around him, and he sat down to teach them. 3 The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group 4 and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. 5 In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” 6 They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.
But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. 7 When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.
9 At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. 10 Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”
11 “No one, sir,” she said.
“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” "

the verse before that is "Then each went to his own home."

There are a couple of points that we can't see in the verses alone. One being that Jewish law didn't allow for compromising circumstances to be enough to accuse someone. There had to be an actual witness to the act. These men, or at least one, would have actually had to spy or burst in to actually see this woman committing adultery.

Second, the Law of Moses didn't allow for this punishment for this sin. In order for a woman to be stoned for adultery, she would need to be a betrothed virgin...and, there would have to be both parties in the sin present so that both would be condemned and stoned.

Third, as if that wasn't' bad enough, Roman law did not allow for them to execute people. If Jesus had, indeed, said to stone her, he would have been guilty under Roman law.

These men really wanted Jesus gone, and they really wanted this woman humiliated and punished. Most believe the entire thing was a set up, including an allowance of letting the man she was with escape on purpose.

Here's where this applies in our life. How many women pass through our day to day lives? Each moment, you have a choice as to which party you belong to. One, full of accusers wanting punishment. One with Grace.

This woman was guilty. Don't forget that fact. She stood there before them, incredibly guilty. I wonder how she was. Was she meek and terrified? Was she proud and refused to show her fear? There's probably a good reason that her disposition is left out. It's because it doesn't matter. And these men had a serious issue with her. What we don't know is if she was just a random prostitute from the street that they chose to use as a tool to trap Jesus, or was she a woman living a secret life of sin? Did they have what we would call a good reason to be angry? Did she sleep with a man one of them were close to and pulled him from God or his wife? Did she say hurtful things to one of their wives causing her to weep for hours? It doesn't tell us if they had a "good" reason...a personal reason to dislike this woman. It tells us this: She was guilty.

Jesus himself didn't approve of her sin. He told her that. "Go now and leave your life of sin." But the grace, oh..the grace. They all left, one by one. They knew they couldn't stand there as if they'd never sinned...even the proud arrogant ones that were the last to leave. She could have ran! She could have fled from that temple were countless eyes looked at her, quite possibly, half dressed (or not at all) body and uncovered head. But she had seen something. Something in the eyes of the One they were calling the Messiah. Grace. She stood there, probably in awe and fear, waiting. She probably struggled so badly wanting to flee from the eyes of some, but wanting with everything that was inside of her for the eyes bent down to the ground to look back up at her. "Then neither do I condemn you..."

If Jesus Himself looks at a woman that is standing knee deep in her own sin, then who am I to EVER condemn ANYONE of anything, whether true or flat out slander?! Reading this passage makes me understand the Jewish tradition of tearing your clothes and throwing ashes over your head as you wail and weep. How arrogant...how selfish and judgemental I have lived my life. Faces of women from my past circle around me as I pray that someone in their lives will reach out and show them the Grace that I refused them. That someone, anyone at all, will not fail them as I did. That someone will step over from that group of accusers, and be the one using love to cast out fear and extending grace no matter the circumstances, no matter their response. They may throw it back in their face, but who cares? Is there someone in your life that you could extend grace to? Someone that you'd rather hate? or at least extremely dislike? Sometimes, we must swallow something that is tougher than we expected...but what else has Christianity cost you? Christ gave up His life for me, what has it cost me?

lengthy post, if you've made it to the end, bless your heart.