“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?” (John 8:4-5)
“You don’t matter!” It screams in your ears and rolls around in your head
like thunder. Oh, most people don’t say it outright, but that’s what they mean.
Like the checker at the grocery store, or the doctor who can’t even remember
your health issue. It’s probably one of the most communicated messages we hear in
life: “You don’t matter.” And the world communicates that same message, just in
a different way. For instance, Rogaine
commercials tell me that hair makes me studly, and Clairol says that you’ll count if you improve your appearance with
their product.
In other words,
you can’t be bald and matter. You can’t be plain and matter. You can’t be fat
and matter. You can’t be poor and matter. You can’t be old and matter. You can’t
be unmarried and matter. You get the message. You and I simply don’t matter. We’re
an interruption in the great, cosmic scheme of life; an insignificant piece of flotsam
in a sea of 7.8 billion people, give or take a few hundred thousand. We seem to
have this natural, in-born need to want to matter, to be important, to be
valuable, and to be valued by someone else. We want someone to care about us.
We fear not mattering. We fear not leaving our mark, or even making a dent for
that matter. We even create resumes that scream, “I matter!” We want to matter.
So we grab at
stuff that makes us feel important. For instance, how about the guy who dates
the head cheerleader – he matters more than the other guys at school because of
who he dates. Or the person who lives in Beverly Hills – she matters more than
the person living on the streets because she lives in the 90210. The person who
drives a Bentley matters more than the person who drives a Chevy. The doctor
matters more than the schoolteacher; pretty people matter more than ugly
people. And on and on it goes.
So it comes as
no surprise that those of us who wonder if we matter have this habit of
pointing at people who are “lower” than ourselves as if to say, “See? I‘m
better than you. I matter!” Let’s face it, we all want to matter. We all want
to find a way to elevate our importance. The fear of not mattering is like a bully
who takes us down a path we don’t want to take, just to be someone we don’t
want to become. But if you chase after what the world says is important, or what
matters, you’ll neither find it nor achieve it. Never. In the end, you’ll spend
your whole life chasing a mirage. Kind of like chasing rainbows – they’re always
just beyond your reach.
And the woman in
our passage 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 in an attempt 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 stone her and get on
with our day.” Kind of like taking the trash out to the curb.
And maybe that’s
the message you’ve heard recently, or maybe you’ve heard it all your life. I
read recently that the No. 1 job of a parent is to communicate to his or her children
that they matter. And maybe you didn’t have parents who told you that – perhaps
ever. So you found someone else that made you feel like you mattered, at least 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;” that is until you find out that “mattering” is merely a function
of how much money you’re willing to give away.
What troubles me
about John’s story is that these guys set up a sting operation, i.e., they caught her “in the act.” Then
they 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 the possible punishment. And where’s the guy, anyway? Maybe he was one of
them – just a paid informant. But they do this right in front of Jesus. It was
like the whole world was shouting, “You don’t matter, and we should know
because we matter.” It’s bad enough to feel worthless without being publicly humiliated.
In short, this lady 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 zero. No one standing with her, not even her mother. No one. She just
didn’t matter. Or, did she?
“What do you
say,” Jesus? Not what does the law say. Not what does the culture say. But, “What
do you say?” In other words, it’s about to get personal. And what does Jesus
say about her? Well, in Luke chapter 4 Jesus said that he had come for the
broken, the imprisoned, the poor, the bruised, and for those who didn’t have
the key to unlock the door behind which they’ve become trapped. In other words,
Jesus came for those who “don’t matter.” And, true to His word, Jesus made the
lepers matter. Jesus made the demon-possessed man matter. Jesus made the sick
matter. Jesus made tax collectors matter. Jesus made prostitutes matter. Jesus
made women and children matter. Jesus made fishermen matter. Jesus made the divorced,
the poor, the grieving, the addicted – he made all of them matter.
So, what does
Jesus say? Jesus says that you matter because he made you and he loves you. It’s
Jesus that makes us matter. Not because we’re so special, but because Jesus
loves us, and his love is what makes us special. The God of this universe sent his
son to die for you. In other words, you matter. Maybe that’s just too hard for some
of us to believe. But if so, who’s to blame for that? 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 today. What matters is the label God himself put
on her, and puts on us. He calls us his masterpiece, his workmanship, the work
of his hand. (Ephesians 2:10)
Now, there’s no
doubt that she totally messed up what she was created to do. She wasn’t living
anywhere near God’s will for her life. God had taken the time to write an
entire script for her life, including how her life would matter, and had given her
all of the unique gifts and talents that she would need to have to matter. But
she wasn’t anywhere close to living that plan. She wasn’t even in the
neighborhood. Fact is, she was living in a completely different zip code. Like
so many of us, she had substituted her own plan, and her plans were 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 her makeup, the smell, the hair, the
sin, the past, and Jesus gave her value. He made her matter because he loved
her. “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)
God made you. So,
look in the mirror now and tell me what you see. Do you think God made a
mistake? If so, then God can’t be God – not if he’s made a mistake, he can’t. And
if he’s made a mistake, what other mistakes has he made? Who’d ever want to
worship that kind of god? May as well worship yourself, as many of us sometimes
do. 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.
Who else took
the time to plan out a whole life of good works for you? Who else gave you the
opportunities, and put you in those places where you would matter? You matter
because God loves you. God wants to be your Father, your Abba, your Papa. And
really, what’s a Christian, anyway? Isn’t it a person whose father is God? And
who can separate you from that love? Nobody. (Romans 8:39) We need 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 I hate myself when I am
loved by God so perfectly? Why should I condemn myself when I am forgiven and accepted
so completely? I have been invited into his kingdom, and he made an unbelievable
sacrifice to get me there, starting with the death of his son, Jesus, on the
cross. So, if he made such a huge effort to get me, why should I wonder if I
have any value?
God in His love
chose you. He came after you. This wasn’t planned by you, deserved by you, or
earned by you. God reached down and took hold of your heart and he 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. If
you’re a parent, when’s the last time you called your child a loser, or a sinner,
or a worm, or a nuisance, or a problem? So, why is it so hard to believe that
God thinks of you any differently?
What did the
woman do to earn what Jesus did for her? Nothing. She just stood there in her
shame and answered Jesus’ question. She did nothing at all. And that, by the
way, is called Grace – undeserved, unmerited, unearned favor. Nearly every day of
our lives this same scenario is played out. In fact, it may just happen to you
today, maybe even at lunch. 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 you the same question they asked of Jesus, “What do you say?” Now you
know the answer.
Grace,
Randy
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