Thursday Post-Caught in the Act

They dragged me through the sand. I have been caught in the act after all.
"We are taking you to be punished," they said, "taking you to the temple courts." "We are taking you to the teacher," they said with a snicker, "he will decide what to do." What to do, that is what got me here in the first place. I am an unwed mother, a result of past sin. No man has been willing to marry me because of my modest complexion. What am I to do for money, how can I provide for my daughter? The man said he would take care of me, said he would marry if only I gave him myself first. And then they came in; I do not know how they knew it was going on. They tore me off of him, still barely clothed.
Now my way out is gone. I know it was sin, but what else am I to do? I hope my daughter is ok. They drag me through the temple courts; I look at the stones in their hands and the anxious look in their eyes, this is not a matter of justice for them, not a matter of punishing me, there is something deeper going on here. They desperately want to throw those stones, as the law says, but not because the law says, I think it is more about gratifying their own sinful natures. I have been weeping bitterly ever since they grabbed me and began to drag me here, weeping because of the shame that I will forever carry now, weeping because of those eyes that I can feel on me, those judging eyes.
They throw me down, still weeping, my body as exposed as my sin, in front of the teacher. I pray to a God who has probably stopped listening to me because of my sin, that this teacher is compassionate. I'm lying here in front of him, as I hear them say the words I have been so dreading.
"Teacher! This woman has been caught in adultery. The Law of Moses says we stone such women. What do you say?" Their words pierce my ears and reverberate around in my head, as I wait for the response of the teacher. Their words are like the venom of vipers. I do not hear the teacher say a word, and I sheepishly lift my head up to see Him bent down, writing something in the sand with his finger. I wonder what it is he is writing, but my tears and the running makeup blur my vision. They press on.
"What should we do, Teacher? Tell us! Do we stone her?" Again I wait, only this time he stands up.
"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." His words are different, they are kind, soft yet bold, gentle yet direct. I do not want to turn and look to see what their response is; the temple is crowded because so many people came to listen to the teacher. I feel so broken and ashamed. I hear a stone hit the ground, and I hope that it is one of them leaving and not one of them missing. I hear more hit the ground and footsteps leaving as my heart grows more and more hopeful. After a few minutes that seem like a few hours I look up.
The teacher is bent down, finishing whatever he started in the sand before. He extends a hand to me, silently offering to help me up. Wiping away mud and mascara I take his offer and stand up. His gentle smile is like honey from the sweetest honeycomb to my soul.
"Woman, where have they gone? Does no one condemn you?" Although I do not want to turn and look, I do, and to my heart's delight every one of them has left, leaving only a large pile of thankfully unused stones. I turn quickly around to answer the teacher.
"No one, sir."
"Then neither do I condemn you. Go now, and leave your life of sin." Once the last word escapes his tongue, so much pain leaves me. All that nervousness, the pain and shamefulness, all of it is gone. The teacher has freed me from it all. I was caught in the act, condemned to die, emotionally chained, and stigmaed, and now I feel only peace and freedom. My despair and pain has turned to delight and dancing. I have to go tell everyone. You have to go tell everyone. I have been set free!