Significant

Significant

            As he was speaking, the teachers of religious law and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in the act of adultery. They put her in front of the crowd.

“Teacher,” they said to Jesus, “this woman was caught in the act of adultery. The law of Moses says to stone her. What do you say?”

They were trying to trap him into saying something they could use against him, but Jesus stooped down and wrote in the dust with his finger. They kept demanding an answer, so he stood up again and said, “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!” Then he stooped down again and wrote in the dust.

When the accusers heard this, they slipped away one by one, beginning with the oldest, until only Jesus was left in the middle of the crowd with the woman. Then Jesus stood up again and said to the woman, “Where are your accusers? Didn’t even one of them condemn you?”

“No, Lord,” she said.

And Jesus said, “Neither do I. Go and sin no more.” 

(John 8:3-11; NLT)

“You don’t matter!” It rings in our ears and rolls around in our heads like thunder. Oh, people may not say it exactly that way, but that’s what they mean, don’t they? For instance, Rogaine commercials tell me that more hair makes me studly. And, beer commercials tell me that I’ll really matter if I drink Bud, or Coors, or Michelob. In other words, we can’t be fat and matter. We can’t be poor and matter. We can’t be old and matter. We can’t drive clunkers and matter. We can’t be unmarried and matter. We can’t make minimum wage and matter. We can’t like the Raiders and matter … well, they may have a point there. Sorry.

But you get the point, don’t you? You and I simply don’t matter. We’re all an interruption in the great, cosmic scheme of life; an insignificant piece of flotsam in a sea of 7,029,202,219 people. (Yep, that’s 7.03 billion people, give or take a few hundred thousand) But we seem to have this natural, inborn need to want to matter, to want to be an important person, to be valuable, and to be valued by someone else. We want someone to care.

So, we fear not mattering. We fear not leaving our mark, or even making a dent. It’s like the fear of not mattering is a bully who takes us down a path we don’t want to take to be someone we don’t want to become. But if we chase after what the world says is important, or what matters, we’ll neither find it nor achieve it. Never. In the end, we’ll spend our whole life chasing a mirage. Kind of like chasing a rainbow – it always seems to be just beyond our reach.

Now, the woman in our text is the perfect picture of someone who didn’t matter. She had nothing. She was caught in the act. She was scum; she was trash; she was a tramp. The only value she had was as a pawn to trick Jesus. The powers that be, you know, the ones that “really mattered,” deemed her unworthy and worthless. In fact, their attitude was, “Let’s just kill her and get her out of the way.” Kinda like how you’d talk about taking the trash out to the curb. And maybe that’s the message you’ve heard. Maybe your entire life.

So, you found someone else that made you feel like you mattered, until they dumped you. And then you got married and really felt like you mattered, until you had kids. And then you won the lottery and thought, “Wow, I really matter now,” until you find out that your “mattering” is a function of how much money you’re willing to give away. It’s kind of like the prodigal son who found out that he mattered so long as he had enough money to buy the next round of drinks. Once the money was gone, so were his “friends.”

What I don’t like about John’s story is that these guys set up a sting operation (they caught her “in the act,” remember?), dragged her from the crime scene, made her stand in a public place before a group of religious do-gooders, announced her sin to the world, and then decided on her punishment. And where’s the guy, anyway? (Frankly, I think he was one of them, or maybe a paid informant) Anyway, they do this right in front of Jesus, the very Son of God! It was like the whole world was shouting, “You don’t matter, and we should know because we matter!” But, isn’t it bad enough to feel worthless without having to be publicly humiliated?

This woman so not mattered that we don’t even know her name, just that they caught “this woman” in the act of adultery. She was worthless. She was disposable. She was a big zero. No one stood with her, not even her mother. No one. She just didn’t matter. Or, did she?

“What do you say,” Jesus? Excuse me? What does Jesus say? Yeah, what is he going to say about this tramp? (Now this is going to get really personal) Not what the law says. Not what the culture says. But, “What do you say?” And what does Jesus say about this troubled woman? Wham! The question of if this woman mattered has now been placed squarely in Jesus’ lap.

So, what does Jesus say? Well, Jesus says that we matter because he made us and he loves us. It’s Jesus that makes us matter. Not because we’re so special, but because Jesus loves us. His love is what makes us special. The God of this universe sent his son to die for us. So, why can’t we see that? Is it just too hard for us to believe? But if that’s true, who’s to blame here? God, or a life-long cultural beat-down? What Jesus saw was that this woman mattered because she was God’s workmanship. It didn’t matter what label her culture put on her, or what label our culture puts on us. What matters is the label God himself put on her, and puts on us. He calls her his masterpiece, his workmanship, the work of his hand. (Ephesians 2:10)

Now, there’s no doubt that she’d totally messed up what she was created to do. She wasn’t living anywhere near God’s will. God had taken the time to write an entire script for her life, including how her life would matter, and he’d given her all of the unique gifts and talents that she needed to fulfill the purpose for which she’d been created. But she was nowhere near living close to that plan. Actually, she wasn’t in the neighborhood. Frankly, she wasn’t even in the same zip code. She had substituted her own plan, and it was a mess.

But when Jesus looked at her, this person who didn’t matter to anyone, this person who no one stood beside, he saw past her clothing and the makeup, the smell, the hair, the sin, the past, and Jesus gave her value. He made her matter because he loved her. Still not convinced?

“For you formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are your works, and that my soul knows very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them.” (Psalm 139:13-16)

There it is, straight out: God made you. So, look in the mirror and tell me what you see. Do you think God made a mistake? If so, God can’t be God, can he? Not if he’s made a mistake, he can’t. And if he’s made a mistake, what other mistakes has he made? And who’d ever want to worship that kind of god, anyway? May as well worship yourself. (Did he just say that?) But, if God is perfect (Mark 10:18), then he makes no mistakes. And if he can’t make a mistake, then you were created intentionally. You were planned. You were designed. You were thought out. You were purposed. You were anticipated. Why? Because you matter.

OK, but isn’t that just a tad bit arrogant? No, not really. It’s what the Bible says. Look, we have to get over ourselves and come to grips with the fact that there is One who loves us more than we love ourselves. Stated differently, why should we hate ourselves when we’re loved by God so perfectly? Why should we condemn ourselves when we’re forgiven and accepted so completely? We’ve been invited into his Kingdom, and he made an unbelievable sacrifice to get us there, starting with the death of his son, Jesus, on the cross. So, if he made such a huge effort to get us, why should we wonder if we have value?

God in his love chose you. He came after you. This wasn’t planned by you, deserved by you, or even earned by you. God reached down and took hold of your heart and relentlessly drew you to himself because you matter. He doesn’t treat you like a loser, or a sinner, or an employee, or a slave, or a mistake, or an embarrassment, or a worm, or an irritation, or a nuisance, or a problem. You’re his child.

Tell me, what did the woman do to earn what Jesus did for her, hmmm?  Right.  Nothing. She just stood there in her shame and answered Jesus’ question. In fact, she did nothing at all. (And that, by the way, is called grace) And nearly every day of our lives this same scenario is being played out. In fact, it just may happen to you today, maybe even at lunch let’s say. Someone is going to throw a person in front of you and talk about their sins and their failings, trying to diminish them, and they will ask the same question of you that they asked of Jesus, “What do you say?” So, what will you say?

In the elementary school I attended, the illustrious Esther Lindstrom Elementary School, there was a bully. His name was Tommy, and I remember he wore the kind of leather jacket that most bullies wear. You know the one, don’t you? (Think, The Fonz from Happy Days) His face had been horribly scarred by an unfortunate accident, and he carried a huge chip on his shoulder. Tommy was an intimidator, and he terrified the rest of us kids. I remember meeting him in the hallway sometimes and being afraid. (Truth be told, Tommy and I eventually got into a fight just outside school one day. I can’t remember who or what started it, but it was pretty much a draw. Funny, after that fight, Tommy and I became pretty good friends)

And there’s a bully that prowls around our lives, and his name is F.E.A.R. (False Evidence Appearing Real) And like every bully, F.E.A.R. exaggerates its power. It shouts threats and warnings, and keeps us on edge. It makes us watch our every move. And so the bully yells at us again, “Hey, punk. You don’t matter!”

The difference is, this time, we don’t have to face the bully alone. This time, we’ve got Jesus, and who wants to mess around with that guy?

Grace,

Randy