Hot Holy Mess

It plays over and over in my mind; the steamy night before. 

I felt sexy. 

Alive. 

A heightened state of awareness. 

I was pretty last night. 

Wanted. 

I was someone to someone. 

The passion that burned between us, the erotic feelings felt so real. 

If only for a moment and removed the pain in my soul.   

The connection was real.   

It felt good. 

I was finally someone who mattered, someone who counted for something to someone.  

I would do anything to feel this feeling, including stealing a husband, and betraying the one I have. The sex was great and it lasted all night which at the time felt like eternity.   

But exhaustion came and we both fell asleep. 

The next thing I know, the sun beams are streaming through the window, the predictable crow of the rooster causes me to groggily rub my eyes and I come to my senses.
The rush of last night floods into my mind.
I turn to see the other side of the bed is empty and “the law” along with an enraged wife is standing over me. 
The Law.
That damn law.
Oh my God, The Law!  
 Death.
What was the “best thing”, which made me feel alive just hours ago, is literally going to kill me.
I am going to die.
My mind is in overdrive.
Panic sets in.  
 I try to put up a fight to run away.  My attempts are futile as the law empowers me.  I am caught in the act of adultery and carried away.
My brain tries to deny the impending death that will come to me. I try not to go there, but my mind races and goes to “The Law.” Pharisee men, old and young, gathering the stones that will pound onto my body and cause injury; a brutal, torturous, slow death.

The suffering begins now; as I sit in the empty darkness.
My mind predicts my death and plays a agonizing, bloody, shameful scene. 

It's the longest night ever.
Alone.
Dark.
No sleep will come.
Who can sleep the night before their stoning?

What was I thinking?
The ocean of shame overcomes my soul. I begin to weep from a place I never knew existed. 
The guilt moves in.
 I would do anything.
And I mean anything to take back the night before. 
I want nothing more than to get away from myself.
I am so angry at me.
 I tear my clothes and pull my own hair, scratch my nails down the skin on my arms until I feel warm, wet blood running down my arms.
I scream.
A scream for help and regret heard by no one but me. 
Counterfeit Sexy has completely disappeared or rather revealed its true ugly self in the state of me now.
It never was.
It was a scam. A facade. A counterfeit dream.
One that I purchased at an unknowingly high price.
My life.

My life…for an empty dream.
A moment filled with shallow lust.
 An empty fantasy that taunted me day after day until, I gave in and lived out the desire of lust to get love.
It all backfired terribly.
And here I am alone, in a pitch black, hallow cell. 

In my mind, I hear the community shouts of “Kill her!” I see his eyes in my mind. The eyes of my husband. They are a toxic mix of anger and sadness that burn regret deeper into my soul as our gaze meets one last time before I die. Oh God, I did love him!  Why did I throw that away?  He doesn’t’ deserve this.  He doesn’t deserve me.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God!

And where the Hell is my one night stand lover? He fled.  He flew the coop. Off Scott free. He won’t be there tomorrow when I’m drug out among my family and friends. Damn him! Damn him to hell! What a loser!
What a liar!
I feel so used.
Manipulated.
Scammed.
 I’m so angry at myself for falling into his trance and believing his dripping-off-the-tongue-lines. How he had never met anyone like me, how I was different than all the other girls. Shouldn’t that line alone,
“All the other girls,”
 have been my first indicator?
What was so gray then is so clear now.

But I had star gazed eyes. Eyes glazed over with the affection and attention, the soft touches, the gentle glances, the intense listening that he gave me.
And my marriage was boring.
Routine.
Predictable.
Expected.
Old. 
This was scandalous, exciting, unpredictable, and new!
He ever so slyly drew me in.  I fell head over heels. I jumped at the chance to bring this man pleasure in exchange for the love and attention he gave me. These things I have longed for my whole life. 

I’m weary.
I see the first signs of the sun coming up. Out of sheer exhaustion, I fall in and out of sleep; if only for seconds at a time. 
My head hurts.
Pounding from the adrenaline pumping through me, the lack of sleep, the sobbing, screaming, the soul torment, and my mind constantly racing the bloody outcome scene.

The rooster has crowed.
I begin to hear people gathering, as the sun has been up for a while now.

I hear a strong yet gentle voice outside. The people get quite and listen. I begin to listen.
Who is this teacher?
 Is this the Jesus everyone has been chattering about?
The big news of the day that is rustling everyone’s feathers? 

Listening to his muffled, yet enticing voice is abruptly interrupted by
“The Law.”
The teachers and the Pharisees rush in dressed in the holier than thou garb, with their sour
“I’m better than you expressions.”

My whole body shakes uncontrollably as I realize this is it.
One of them grabs my arm and jerks me to my feet. They gather around me and lead me without touching me any further once seen by the crowd;
as if I am some kind of pandemic disease that will infect them. 

Humiliation.
There I stand in the middle of the people with almost swollen shut eyes, dark bags below them, disheveled hair, self-inflicted markings up and down my arms, dried blood smeared on my skin, and clothes that are torn. I smell still; like him. But more like the pitiful stench of sin.
I’m dirty.
Guilty.
And I cannot hide it from anyone.
I am in the Light and everyone sees my sin.
My wrong.
My guilt.
My shameful act.
How sexy is it now?

Oh my God!  Oh my God! My soul silently screams to God for some strange reason, yet I want death quickly.
I know I deserve it.

Just pick up the stones and throw them fast, this feeling is killing me slowly. I stand there shaking uncontrollably, looking straight at the ground too ashamed to look at anyone. 

Is my mother here?
Oh God, I don’t want my mother to have to see this. 
Why didn’t I listen to her?  
 If only I would have listened and not blown off her attempt to raise me right.
Without a father.
I wouldn’t be here now in this wretched state. 

I want to fall to the ground. I feel as though I will pass out.  
 My legs are wobbly.  
 I am crying now.  
 I didn’t know there were any tears left.
The Pharisees start talking to the one who was just moments ago teaching the gathered crowd. 
What the hell are they doing?
Just throw a stone someone, I can’t stand here another second!
Wait a minute. They are asking his opinion on ME?
What?
Is there a loop hole?
I know the law but I don’t… Know. The. Law.  I’m a girl who plays along. Never studied in-depth, just do what I’m told to satisfy the people. 

My bowed down head staring straight into the sand, senses this teacher bend down.

He is writing in the sand. I can see this, from my head down view.  What is he writing?
I can’t tell.
Why is he writing?
 It’s as if he has not a care in the world; so it seems.

What is happening?
My trembling slows, just for a second and my mind focuses on him.
His hand writing in the sand.  

 The Pharisees keep asking questions as if they want to back this guy in a corner.

Who’s on trial here ME or Him?
He keeps writing with his finger in the sand.
It gets quiet. 
The full of steam Pharisees are impatiently waiting for the sand-writing Jesus to respond.
Then He says it.
“If anyone of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” 

I have never heard a greater silence.  
 I have never felt a greater tension.
 I am still eyes to the ground.
Breathless.
Waiting.
For what? A stone? A release? I have no idea. 
Then it comes.
Footsteps. 

 One by one.
I sheepishly tilt my head ever so slightly up and view a glimpse of them.
Walking. Away.
Walking Away?
Walking Away!
Oh my God, they are leaving!
I lift my head up just a bit more and catch a glance; their robes swirling the sand behind them.  The oldest leave first and then the younger teachers and soon the entire crowd is gone. 

All that is left…
me.
Jesus.
And a pile of stones.

Breathless still. 
 Jesus stands up. He speaks to me.
“Dear woman, where is everyone? Are we alone? Did no one step forward to condemn you?”

My soul and mind are bouncing from fear, to elation, to confusion, to a deep desire for This Man.
Not a sexual desire that has been instinctive to me, but a whole desire a pure desire.
I am drawn to Him.
Yet, He is still here.
So it must mean He is without sin.
He has the power to stone me.
Oh my NO! He is going to do it alone!
The stones are going to come slowly and this will be worse than my mind could have ever imaged.  Here I am a wretched woman.
Guilty.
Standing face to face with Holy.

My mind refocuses and I answer His question. “Lord, no one has condemned me.”

Is this a trick? 
He is going to let me have it right here? 
 I will get what I deserve.  
 And where did the word Lord come from?  
It just rolled off my lips.  I called him Lord. 
And I wasn’t sucking up.
I know I am well past my ability to manipulate.
Not this man.
I am frozen in Holiness and Guilt. 
And I just called this man Lord.

He responds.
 “Neither do I. Go and sin no more.”

My breathlessness ends. 
And I weep again. 
Yet these are tears of joy!
Release floods my soul where the guilt was trying its best to drown me.  I was thrown an eternal line of rescue. 
This man freed me!  
 It’s a freedom well beyond the played out situation of the getting out of the Pharisees stoning card.
  It’s a release from it all.
Fatherlessness.
Fear.
Guilt.
Shame.
Lack of attention and affection.
Need for love unmet.
Attempts to be good on my own.
Pride.
 Selfish desires to have needs met in ways that hurt others. 

I was supposed to be dead and here I stand alive.  

 I am alive!
I am alive for the first time!
Then it hits me.
I had been dying for a long time. 
Death has been knocking at my door since my first breath.
  I did die here.
Today.
 But it is a different death.
A soul death of the rebellious nature of me.
A death of the wretchedness of falleness that I was born into.  
The death of me just happened; yet I am breathing.

I am being born here.
Something was conceived in these moments where a wretched woman was left alone with Mercy. This most unlikely pairing birthed life; salvation.

 
 I want to be with this man.
I will do anything to be with this man.
 Not in my old-self, the way I would in twisted, backwards; evil ways…
I want to follow this man wherever He goes.
He gave me back my life!
No! No! Wait He gave me life!
I have to follow!
I must follow!
I desire nothing else but to leave that pile of manure life; drop everything, and be with Him! 
His request to stop doing the sin; the very thing that was the result of my death sentence seems so small in comparison with the trade of His rescue of me.
The desire for Him is countless times greater than my desire for adultery ever was.  
 I am now face down.
 Praising God who came and saved me.  
 I did nothing to save myself.
I didn’t respond to Him.
He responded to my helpless deserved situation.
But I can respond now.  
 I can follow. 
I can go with Him and do what he says.
I leave my life of sin right here.
Right now.
I follow Jesus who saved me from death and punishment that I deserved.

 My heart swells with worship.
Praise.
Adoration.  
My mind tries to process that the Living God just saved me.
In Front of Everyone.  
 I am Free!
I am face down; laughing and crying grace-filled, overflowing happy tears, and praising Him.  
 I look up and He is gone. 
Then I look just in front of me.
There in the sand.
 I see what he had written. 

A line in the sand was there and just on the other side of it this word;

( Based off of John 8:1-11 in the bible)