This story never gets old for me. I have read or heard it retold dozens of times. And it still has the same impact for me. That of horror and wonder. And hope.

Horror because I see myself in the characters. The Accusers-How quick I am to point the finger. How self righteous I often am. How smug. How unloving. How superior. The Missing Partner-How easy it is for me to think I am hiding my sins. Noone will ever know. The Bystanders-Ah, the grisly fascination of watching someone else's train wreck. How often I have waited to see punishment meted out. Or the cowardice of standing by those times when I, also, own the guilt. The Woman-Me. I see me. I see me.

Wonder because of Jesus. He is so smart. And unpredictable. You can't back Him into a corner. You can't mold Him into your own expectation of Messiah God. You can't trip Him up. What DID He write in the sand? After all these years, He is still so approachable and yet such a mystery.

And Hope. I can drop those stones I have picked up. My death sentence has been purchased. My slate swept clean...time and time again. And I can be changed. And those eyes...His eyes...can see me as pure, and clean, and lovely!

Image taken from here.