The Beautiful U-Turn

The streets of downtown Albuquerque, New Mexico are a confusing jumble of one way roads. As a 20-year-old who was trying to find my way out of that part of town while driving a car packed with teenagers -- before GPS -- I was white-knuckling my steering wheel. Twice, I nearly turned into a street before I saw the white "One Way" sign, and I swiftly adjusted direction. And once I actually did turn onto a one way street... the wrong way.

When that happened, I slammed on my brakes. I knew I was heading the wrong way, and I had to fix it as swiftly as possible, or face devastating consequences when traffic caught up with me. 

My car idled for a moment as I got my bearings and as I shut out the screeching teenagers filling the backseat of my car. And then -- I performed a beautiful U-turn. 

That is, it was a normal U-turn where the wheels angled, and the car switched directions, but in my mind it was such a relief to be headed in the direction I was meant to travel on that particular road.

In John 8:1-11, Jesus has entered the temple courts in Jerusalem, and He quickly gains an audience. People have learned that wherever Jesus goes, there, too, goes wise teaching and amazing miracles. They're hungry to hear more.

So Jesus, finding Himself surrounded by people, locates a place to sit down so He can teach them.

Enter: Jesus' consistent thorns in the flesh -- the Pharisees and teachers of the law, each one of them intent on trapping Him in His own words if they can. This time, they've brought a newcomer to their normal ranks.

It's a woman.

"They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus, 'Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?'"

Some convenient things the Pharisees and teachers of the law are forgetting about this particular law they mention: 1.) the act of adultery cannot, by its very nature, be committed by only one person. The law of Moses is very clear that both parties involved must suffer the consequences (Leviticus 20:10). 

And 2.) the consequence of death by stoning as a result of adultery is mentioned in Deuteronomy 22:23-24 and is applied specifically to a virgin betrothed to be married. And once again... it is applied to both the man and the woman, followed by the clear push-back: "You must purge the evil from among you." 

This woman they shove before Jesus where she quivers at the center of attention... stands alone. No man is with her, though that is a clear part of the same Law by which the Pharisees abide. With the woman having been caught "in the act," they cannot use the excuse: "We didn't know who the man was," or "Her partner got away." They let the man go free, and they use the woman to create a trap for Jesus.

The trap, by any human standard, is a decent one. If Jesus were to say, "No, don't stone her; you guys are obviously using her as a plot point in your little deceitful games," then the Pharisees and teachers of the law could proclaim Jesus an outlaw, since He is specifically telling them not to fulfill the Law of Moses, and Jesus' career as a Rabbi and his reputation as "Christ or Prophet" among the people would be destroyed.

On the other hand, if Jesus were to say, "Fine, yep, she broke the Law of Moses; go ahead, throw your stones," the Pharisees and teachers of the law could report him to the Roman authorities, who strictly forbade the Jews to carry out their own death sentences.

Jesus takes neither road. Wise beyond understanding, He chooses the third answer, the unlooked-for response, and outsmarts them all.

He bends over and begins writing in the dirt on the ground.

That's one of the first things I'm going to ask Jesus when I get to heaven. "What exactly did you write, Jesus?" Curiosity is the better part of valor. ;) (Yes, I'm aware I butchered two classic proverbs).

The Pharisees and teachers of the law glance at each other. What does He think He's doing? "Ahem... Jesus? What -- whatcha doin' there?"

Jesus straightens up, looks them directly in the eye and says: "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone."

I did this little exercise for the fun of it: I put emphasis on each word as I read that statement through several times: 

If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone.
If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone.
If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone.

And so on. Go on, try it. It's fun, and every repetition changes your perspective just a little.

So Jesus bends back over and keeps writing in the dirt. He's given the flawless answer. He doesn't push aside the Law of Moses; He's specifically told them they can stone her if they themselves are without sin. He doesn't incite civil disobedience against Rome; He hasn't declared a death penalty. 

He takes the third answer, and it's a steel trap that swallows up the trap set by the Pharisees and the teachers of the law. (Can I just say how much I love the genius of this? This is one of my favorite stories). 

One by one, the Pharisees and teachers of the law turn away, cringe away, slink away. There's just no contest about who won this little confrontation. They have no answer, and the only thing they can do is try to recover their shredded dignity and disappear as swiftly and invisibly as possible.

Finally, it's only Jesus and the woman left, although I imagine the Twelve are somewhere nearby, maybe glancing at the sky, whistling and fidgeting, pretending not to listen.

Jesus stops writing in the dirt, straightens up, dusts off His hands. "Woman," he says, "Where are they? Has no one condemned you?"

The woman speaks her only line in this little tableau. "No one, Sir."

Ah. Jesus looks her directly in the eyes, gets and keeps her attention. "Then," He says, "neither do I condemn you. Go now and leave your life of sin."

The woman on her one-way street has screeched to a halt. Panic and desperation are rampant, fear of consequences, knowledge of wrong-doing. She knows she's heading the wrong way. She has turned onto that street, and what is done is done -- she's forging ahead, no matter the directional markers.

Until she's caught and until she looks into the truest eyes that ever met her own.

Until she hears the words: "Neither do I condemn you. Go now... and leave your life of sin."

The grace of forgiveness meets her there in the middle of her one-way street.

The mercy of discipline calls her to turn around, to perform the beautiful U-Turn, to adjust her trajectory to follow the directional notations.

Forgiveness and grace are beautiful things, but they bring with them a prerequisite: we must leave behind the things that take us away from the Savior. Shed them, burn them. How can we crucify our sins to the cross, and then still cling to them? They are dead, and if we cling to them, so are we.

Jesus calls us out of that. He asks us to stop the car, but once we are motionless, He asks us to turn around. We can't sit in the middle of the road, and we can't keep driving to our own destruction.

When I turned my car (Betsy-the-red-station-wagon, for those who want to know) in the middle of the road, there was nothing much more beautiful to me than seeing a clearly visible green traffic light directly in front of me, well-marked lanes, and a clear sense that I was in the correct place and pointed in the right direction.

The only view of where I had been heading was in the rear-view mirror as the wrong way grew more and more distant behind me.

Y'all, 2021 is here, a time of new. New direction, new purpose, new hope. Let's make it our challenge to perform the beautiful U-turn. Whatever one-way street on which we've found ourselves, if it's against the directional markers given us in Scripture, make that left, turn that wheel, and let the rearview mirror be the only view of the past. 

Let's keep Jesus front and center.