Dear Adulterous Woman,
You were dragged along those streets,
and people just watched you,
A march to some bizarre beats.
You tried to hide your face,
but the path they took was uneven,
so you stumbled at their horse pace.
You knew the penalty for your sin,
But where were they taking you,
You wondered; curiosity within.
And as you were pulled and pushed,
Your shawl fell on the way,
But they did not care, they did not stop,
You were treated like a stray.
Then you saw a man from the crowd,
He radiated an unusual peace,
Gentle and compassionate; not loud,
You had questions, who is He—you thought,
and why to Him were you brought?
The Pharisees asked—do we stone her or chop off her limbs?
You stood there terrified, not a word you uttered,
But there was fear, a chill in your ribs.
Jesus stopped down and wrote something on the ground,
And the people around stood there anxious, they all wore a frown,
What was He doing? What did He write?
You wondered as you tried to swallow your fright.
A strange paradox, it was,
That no mind could grasp,
What He did made the scene hit a pause,
And you stood there still,
Thinking if the Pharisees would kill,
But there was shift, an unusual peace,
As Jesus spoke, everything felt at ease,
It was what you wanted to hear,
And His freedom lit up the atmosphere.
Thank you for showing me hopelessness,
That quicksand of brokenness,
That had you bound, made you motionless,
And smothered you, gave you the feeling of worthlessness.
Thank you for your story taught,
that God unties even the most difficult knot,
That He changes every story’s plot,
And that no matter what, He loves me a lot,
Assurance that He sets us free,
From all chains, how much ever strong it may be.
Love,
The Hopeless Woman
I have been labelled a rebel by many, especially by church leaders. Although I don’t count it as a credit, I always wished that people could see the injustice, that I rebelled against, through my eyes. However, nobody tried. People have called me several names—rude, sulky and, the most recent and the one that hurt the most, A HOPELESS CASE. The aforementioned names were by prominent members and leaders of the church who put on their super Christian masks on Sunday mornings. Surely, there are several ‘hopeless cases’ like me in every church, but how do leaders deal with them? For all I know, I was never treated the Jesus kind of way, instead, they pulled and pushed me like the Pharisees did to the adulterous woman. I was almost banished from the church. One by one, every ministry that I was associated with was taken away from me. My case was dragged into the public, just like how the adulterous woman was dragged onto the streets. Then there were some who took advantage of all this and used their age and power to script some sensational allegations against me. And the inference: I HATED CHURCH AND ITS PEOPLE.
While many term church as a place that brings them closer to God, I called it otherwise. A sudden aversion towards Christians developed in my heart—I did not want to be known as one of them anymore. In my season of being distant from God, I realised one thing—I was more of a follower of the Christian community than Christ Himself. I had kept my church and its people on a pedestal and although, I was actively involved in ministry, I always had unrest because my heart was not at the right place.
I could not stand bias or any form of partiality where one party is put down. This sort of attitude is quite rampant in the church; to be specific, the worship team. I have always been aware of the fact that most attacks on the church begin with the worship team, for obvious reasons, of course. The fact that Lucifer knew the in and out of the system, makes it more vulnerable than any of the other sections of the church. I was in it and like many others, growth was directly proportional to hierarchy for me. I kept waiting and sometimes, even went on to ask for a step up in the team when I saw the ones around me going up. I felt stagnant and I vocalised it—several times for many years, as a matter of fact. But my leaders denied my requests saying that “it wasn’t God’s right time for me!” Using the name of God is the easiest way out of a situation and so often, His name is casually used without even hearing from Him. Yes, there was fault in me; I saw a love for position and limelight grow inside of me—the same trait of Lucifer. Though it was late, I had identified it. But with a little help, a lot of damage could have been avoided. However, instead of helping me out, my case was termed HOPELESS and dismissed. And I dismissed myself from the community.
No, there was no famine, sickness or plague during my distant season like how several preachers put it. However, I did feel empty. There was a lot of blame though, and these were all from my immediate family. I remember this incident when there was some water-logging issue in my house and my father declared—“All this is happening because you spoke rudely to the pastor!” I don’t advocate disrespecting your authority, that was definitely my immaturity, however, the reason for a crisis is surely not because God punished you or that a pastor cursed you. Most people tend to attribute a struggle to some form of punishment as a result of negative behaviour. But let me assure you that God does not work that way. In the words of Lisa Harper—“God will never use shame to motivate you to change!”
I love this quote by Meshali—“The only one qualified to throw a stone, didn’t!”
There are times I wish I could go back to the evening when a group of leaders from my church came home to pelt stones of criticism and hurt on me. Jesus was there that evening but I chose not to look at Him instead went on to drown in self-pity and hurt. I took on every stone that was thrown at me and even tried to pelt some back. For months after that I believed every lie that was told to me—“You are possessed!” “God hates you!” “You are responsible for all the troubles in our lives!” “When you are around, there is no presence of God!” If only I saw my Saviour vindicate me that evening. If only I let go and let God. However, anger had blinded me that evening from seeing Jesus, stoop down and write on the sand—FORGIVEN. Ah, those eight letters were enough to mend my broken heart. I saw it, months later though, in my ‘War Room’ and all my unrest suddenly evaporated. I realised that I was fighting the wrong enemy all this while; it was neither the church or its people. It was a battle beyond the church walls; a battle in the spiritual realm. And that day I learnt that all battles, both worldly and spiritual, are won on our knees not with sweat, blood or fiery words.
Like me, the adulterous woman would have believed all that was told to her by the ones around her. She was bound by cords of hurt, guilt and lies. But that was all until Jesus said, “FORGIVEN.” And suddenly, every chain was broken. The real essence of this eight-letter word is only understood when you experience it deeply. Remember, even when you are at your filthiest, Jesus stands with His arms open wide and also, with a clean pair of clothes. All you have to do is to RUN TO HIM. He sees, He knows and He hears every tear, every pain and every cry. He won’t dismiss your case or call you hopeless. Tell the mountain of hopelessness that is in front of you about Jesus; it will move!
In the words of George Müller—“In a thousand trials, it is not just five hundred of them that work for the good of the believer, but nine hundred and ninety-nine, plus one.”