New Year Expectations

In this space a year-and-a-half ago, I wrote about lowering our expectations - which, according to some, is the key to happiness. While I don't believe that happiness should ever be an end-goal in and of itself, since I first wrote about that - and tried to put the whole lowering of expectations thing into practice - I've actually seen some payoff.

But this is the time of year I have a hard time lowering expectations. After the "Christmas come-down," I always get antsy for the New Year, for yet another fresh start, for another go at my life. And I always get excited about what the year ahead may bring.

This year in particular, I've got some exciting things ahead: My first book, Mama's Got a Fake I.D.: How to Reveal the Real You Under All That Mom comes out March 17. My friend (and fellow GFL contributor) Carla Barnhill and I continue to grow our Mommy Revolution with great discussion and author interviews on our blog - and will even be guests on Moody Radio's Midday Connection on January 13 to talk about our fledgling Revolution. But that's not all I'm excited about.

This March 6-8, I'm heading back to Gifted For Leadership's Synergy in Orlando. If you were there last year, you know why I'm excited about that - and why my expectations are high. There's just something about a group of gifted, thoughtful, creative, and energized women of faith gathering together to explore and affirm and celebrate the ways God is using them. It'd be cool if you could join us this year so we can see and celebrate the ways God is using you!

Beyond that, I just feel hopeful and expectant about what God is doing in my life and in the lives of many of the people around me. It's hard to manage expectations when you sense God is at work in a mighty way.

Ever feel that way? What are the things you're most hopeful about for the New Year? What has your expectations high?

Catch-Phrase Christians

Here's my up-front disclaimer: I'm not fond of Christian jokes and one-liners. I might be a terrible stick-in-the-mud, but when I pass a church marquee sign posting a "Christian" message, I wince. Although I fight the urge, I read it. And sometimes I need to seek God's forgiveness for the thoughts that enter my mind after my car has passed by.

I live in a small town where church marquee signs are prevalent. Before Election Day, one sign read, "To find God, turn right and go straight." A left-leaning friend was outraged by what she believed was a political message. Granted, the church was located on the right side of the road, but I wondered if the pastor realized that, if drivers decided to "go straight," they would eventually end up at the Davison Bacon & Sausage Works down the road. (Can God really be found between tubes of hanging salami?)

Another local church sign once read, "If God gave you the same priority you give Him, would you be saved?" My instinctive response was a low growl. I wasn't being convicted by the Holy Spirit; I simply have an adverse reaction to being smacked in the head while traveling down Main Street. It doesn't seem to reflect our Savior's style.

Several Christian websites are dedicated to help "spread the gospel rapidly" by posting catchy one-liners such as "God answers knee-mail," "God loves everyone, but probably prefers ?fruits of the spirit' over ?religious nuts'," and "Sitting in church doesn't make you a Christian any more than sitting in a garage makes you a car." My response is always the same: "Huh?"

Or consider the church sign I passed while jogging on a terrifically hot day. It read, "WARNING! Exposure to the Son may prevent burning." Sure, I get it. But why does it make me crazy?

I feel especially provoked by one-liners like, "Why do some people change churches? What difference does it make which one you stay home from?" and "Don't make me come down there--signed God." Statements like this are patronizing, condescending,, and place the reader on the defensive side of living.

Do we really want to guilt people into worshipping with us? When people read these messages and the out-loud response is, "See?THAT'S why I don't go to church!" we've failed our community--and our faith.

Before I gave my life to Christ, reading "Be ye fishers of men. You catch ?em; he'll clean ?em," would have never worked for me. If I believed, prior to my darkening the doors of the church, that some wanted to "catch" and "clean me," I would have swum for my life. I have always had a highly developed fight-or-flight instinct, and I had no interest in being caught or cleaned.

Instead, God gently moved in on me, seemed to sit beside me and softly spoke. Suddenly, I realized that he and I were in the same place at the same time. I learned, through relationship with others, that he had a genuine interest in my life and wanted in. I said yes to God and took those first wobbly steps of faith.

Are we really trying to reach out to those who are far from God? If the answer is "Yes," we need to speak the words that others understand and will respond to positively. Our audience is comprised of moms and dads, children and grandparents, friends and neighbors. They are overworked, tired and stretched to the limits emotionally, mentally and financially. They laugh too little and worry too much. They are searching for something meaningful in their lives and often look in the wrong places. And, once in a while, they timidly walk through the doors of our churches.

If we insist on using catch phrases to attract our community, perhaps we should run the quote-of-the-week by our unchurched friends before placing them on a sign. Ironically, we may need to have others tell us the truth about the Truth we're trying to share. Filtering language through those who will be honest with us might keep us from displaying critical or silly phrases about God to the community. And, it might result in an interesting one-on-one conversation about the most powerful words of all.

We have an incredible opportunity to invite people on a journey of faith. As for church marquee signs, perhaps we simply need to say, Sunday Services: 9:00 and 11:00 a.m. All Welcome!

With God's spirit, those words might be more than enough.

Taking a Sharpie to Your List

No offense, but I'm crossing your name off my list with a big black Sharpie.

I'm not crossing you out of my life—just off my list.

It's not crossing you off because you're unimportant or because I don't care or because I don't think you're cool.

Blackening your name off isn't easy for me, but I've got to do it.

It's not you; it's me.

And I'm not superwoman.

Sorry, but I've got to do this?

Screech? (Sound of Sharpie on paper.)

This one-sided dialogue was repeated in various forms in my mind throughout a revolutionary hour I spent with a blue index card, a pencil, and a big, bad, black Sharpie.

Before that hour, my life looked a bit like this:

There were the various groups I was already a part of: a book club, a ministry group, a home group, a Sunday-school-class group, and a few various committees peppered in here and there. Then there were the groups I felt interested in joining or guilty about not participating in or somewhat pressured to be a part of: Wednesday morning women's Bible study, a mentoring program at church, three more committees and ministry groups at church, and various parent volunteer groups at my kids' schools.

There were also all sorts of various relationships I was trying to maintain: "outreach" relationships with neighbors, relatives, friends, international students, and a regular Jehovah's Witness door-to-door visitor. Then of course there were the close friends who live far away in Portland and Boulder and Istanbul and Grand Rapids and Chicago. Then there were the Christian friends who are close by, from my present church, from my old church, from MOPS, from book club, from here, there, and everywhere. Then of course my family: my husband, my son, my daughter, my sister, my brother, my sisters- and brothers-in-law, my nieces, my parents, my parents-in-law, my aunts and uncles, and my fabulous 17-year-old cousin. Oh, and there were the people I'm trying to invest in and encourage, like the newlywed couple we go on double-dates with, the single mom I'm encouraging, the new Christian I studied the Bible with at Starbucks on occasional Friday mornings, the mom-friends who I swapped parenting advice with and, well, trust me, I could go on and on.

And along with groups and relationships, there were spiritual growth habits, exercise goals, personal aspirations, various other neglected hobbies, work commitments, and household tasks. I felt like Bilbo Baggins when he told Gandalf, "I feel...thin. Sort of stretched, like...butter scraped over too much bread."

Ignatius of Loyola outlined the spiritual practice of examen or "examination of conscience" in his Spiritual Exercises written in 1522-1524. In essence, examen is the habit of prayerfully reflecting, with God's help, on your thoughts and actions during a given period of time and considering how your life matches up with what God desires for you. Christians from various traditions throughout the centuries have practiced the habit of examen in various forms, from formal Ignatian prayers to John Wesley's brutal accountability questions to simple private reflection on the life-giving and death-dealing moments of one's day.

I knew I needed to assess more than one day. I needed to look with God at my pattern of living over weeks and months and years. I knew that rather than living with purpose, I was aiming for hundreds of targets and missing most of them. Rather than living richly, I was left spiritually and emotionally poor. Rather than enjoying deep and meaningful relationships, I'd become thin, listless butter.

Hence, the appointment with the Sharpie for some lifestyle-examen.

I filled that card with every commitment I've got, every person I'm trying to care for and encourage, every task or person I feel guilty about not attending to, and every dream I'm neglecting. I jam-packed every centimeter of that poor little card. And then I sighed.

And then I prayed.

"Lord, help me," I prayed. "Help me get a grip. Help me get a grip, first, on my outrageously huge view of myself. (I am not Atlas, nor do I want to be!) Then help me see your vision for my life and grasp onto it.

"Then Lord, help me loosen my grip on all those other things I'm holding on to and trying to do but just, well, just can't."

And after some prayer and after some silent staring and after quite a bit of inner wrestling with self-imposed guilt, I put that Sharpie to work.

I crossed several commitments and goals off that list. (That wasn't so hard.)

But then I literally crossed several people off that list. (That was hard. It felt very mean.)

But that blacked, blotchy, barely legible card became a target for me. A clear, defined target to focus on that freed me to obey and follow God's leading rather than chasing after all my own notions of what it means to serve him and live life.

So if I crossed you off my list, I'm sorry. You'll never know you got crossed out because I'll still be kind and I'll still enjoy being with you and I'll still meet you for coffee if you ask.

But I'm called by God to invest my energies elsewhere.

And if that's fine with him, it's fine with me.

Life in a Snow Globe

There is something magical about a snow globe. A child's eyes fill with wonder every time one is shaken. The snow swirls around the scene until it finally settles motionless on the bottom - until someone shakes it again.

When I unpacked my Christmas decorations this year, I found a treasured snow globe wrapped in brown paper. I shook it, and waited for the snow to settle, I imagined what it would be like to live inside. I began to picture myself in an idyllic Christmas scene, and then chuckled when I realized that when the holidays roll around, I DO live in a snow globe. When the holiday rush hits, it seems like someone has shaken my world.

The holidays bring extra stresses. Juggling the additional to-do lists can feel like trying to walk in a blizzard. In most homes these responsibilities fall on the women. Often we're the ones expected to make our family's season merry and bright. Decorating, gift buying and wrapping, cooking, party planning, card sending.... The list goes on. It's easy to get caught up trying to make everything look and taste Martha Stewart perfect.

But, along with these pressures Christmas demands that we celebrate the birth of Christ in a worthy manner. From Jesus' perspective, I wonder what a meaningful celebration of his birthday would look like. Would it be one where guests visit with each other, enjoy the food, chat about the effort it has taken to get to the party, and how festive everybody looks? Would Jesus get only a polite nod and an occasional "Happy Birthday?"

How does Jesus want us to celebrate his birthday when our world is shaken up? The answer may be somewhat different for each person, but I believe Jesus would want us to include some of these ideas.

1. Focused time and attention. The infant Jesus came to reveal the Father to humanity in an intimate, personal way. He is called Emmanuel, God with Us. Time set aside to deepen our relationship with Christ can help us keep him a priority.

2. Sincere worship and celebration. Much glorifying and praising God was heard on the night of the Savior's birth. Nurturing a joyful, praising heart during the most hectic part of the year ministers to the Lord. By setting our eyes above the season's glitter and materialism and reflecting on our Lord can help us keep a healthy perspective.

3. Serve others. Partnering with God in serving others out of love rather than obligation is at the heart of the gospel. For God so loved the world that he gave.... He will empower us as we ask Him to give us his eyes and heart toward others at Christmas.

4. Prioritize holiday activities. Advance planning and commitment is necessary to give Christ his proper place in the holiday season. If we don't plan ahead, last minute frenzy can overwhelm us. If it does, Christmas will leave us exhausted with our tummies full and our souls bare.

As I watched the snow settle at the bottom of my snow globe, I noticed that the blizzard was merely a dusting of snow. Details that seem so important during the holiday rush will soon be forgotten. Investing in relationships with Jesus, family, friends and the least of these can echo the angels' proclamation of "peace on earth, good will toward men."

When we put our decorations away, we can look back on Christmas as a rich and meaningful celebration for us as well as for Christ. Let every heart prepare him room, even in a snow globe world.

Starting Over

People often mistake forgiveness for a feeling, but fundamentally forgiveness is a choice, an act of the will. That's why we are commanded to forgive. Forgiving involves acknowledging your own hurt, releasing your thoughts about the violation and giving up the desire to pay the offender back. If you are the spouse who has been wronged, it may seem strange that the burden of this stage of healing falls to you. But forgiving has more to do with the health of your spiritual and mental life than it does with your spouse's. Forgiving releases your spouse from your wrath, but - more importantly - it frees you from the destructive bondage of unforgiveness.

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Creative Acts of Obedience

Serene Madonna? I don't think so

Mary, the mother of Jesus, is usually painted looking so serene, but I have to wonder if that was always the expression on her face. The advent season is all about her story, as the young virgin honored to be selected to bear the Messiah. She didn't seem to struggle too much with her yes, but did she have any idea what would be coming next?

This past spring I was in Israel driving by bus from Nazareth to Bethlehem, thinking, "This would not be fun, on a donkey - in your third trimester! Besides the inconvenient travel, she encountered a fiance who wanted to break it off, a village abuzz with gossip, and a less than optimal delivery location. And that was just in the first nine months of the story.

God calls each of us to creative acts of obedience throughout our lives.

A few years ago, after a season of listening and discernment, I had begun a doctoral program. I had quit my job, located funding, and arranged childcare. Three weeks into my first full-time semester of graduate school, I discovered I was pregnant. Not unhappy news, just unexpected.

As nausea, fatigue and anxiety about the future began to come, I had quite a few conversations with God, wondering why the story was unfolding this way. This was not the plot line I would have written for my life. Three children seemed like plenty to me. I was really excited about getting my PhD and thought God wanted me to get it. What was God up to with this new baby and why? Didn't he know what I could handle? Why wasn't he rewarding my obedience with smooth paths and stress-free progress?

Fast forward seven years where my life story, now richer by one more delightful little boy, continues to take unexpected twists and turns. Some welcome and some that make me wonder if God is toying with me. I have grown in my respect and appreciation for Mary, the young woman called to such a tremendous creative act, who went on to continue being a part of God's bigger story. Her perseverance and obedience throughout her life despite the dissonance she must have experienced at times with how the story unfolded, have been a rich example for me to follow.

Mary's story is worth digging into. One of the twists in my life has been taking on a role with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship to create resources to support women called to be in the graduate school, faculty, and professional world. In fact, in a few weeks, Women in the Academy and Professions will be hosting an event in Chicago called "Finding Space for God," where women can enter into the story of Mary and see what God has to say to them through it.

What have you heard God say to you through her story?

Guided by Dreams

I watched, helpless, as the minivan careened down the hill into a giant tree. The passenger's side was demolished, injuring one of my closest friends. I ran down the hill to see if my friend was alive and well. She was alive but she wasn't well; she was covered in blood where the tree had torn through the vehicle on her side. Someone called 911 and I gave her a cotton cloth to wipe the blood off her body, but since she could not move I had to reach through the window to help her. By the time the ambulance had arrived, her head had fallen to her shoulder, then to her chest, and finally the seatbelt supported her entire weight. She had died; I saw her die.

We had been friends since we were 15. My husband and I are "Nino" and "Nina" (terms of endearment in Spanish for "Godfather" and "Godmother") to her children. I grieved for these children; I grieved for her husband; I grieved for myself.

And then I woke up.

I'm not a psychologist - or a psychotherapist - nor do I know much about neuroscience or the study of sleep. And though I often have vivid, realistic dreams, thankfully, they are usually not this tragic.

In the Bible, we read many stories where God speaks to humanity through dreams. In the seasons of Advent and Christmas, there are several stories: The Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream to tell him that Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit, and, later, in another dream, an angel told him to take Jesus and Mary to Egypt rather than going home. The Magi were also warned in a dream not to return to Herod, but to take another route back to their country of origin. These were dreams of guidance and reassurance.

I don't look to my dreams much for guidance of the life direction type, but I have found that some of them have been tools of the Holy Spirit that help shape my character and response to the work of Christ. Often, I will wake from disturbing dreams and pray. I'll pray for the people I dreamed about (such as my friend and her family), I'll pray for my marriage and husband, I'll pray that I'll become more Christ-like and less selfish. My dreams teach me that I have much less control over life than I give myself credit for. I couldn't stop that minivan; I couldn't fly through the glass ceiling (a dream, not a metaphor); I couldn't catch the Steinway as it rolled down the hill and crashed into a million pieces.

Many of my dreams also make me very thankful for where I am, right now. I'm thankful my friend is still alive and her husband isn't widowed. I'm thankful for God's grace that I didn't break my marriage vows (even though I have in dreams). And in a world (and season) where marketing and dissatisfaction are practically making out on the couch, it's important to be thankful for things we often take for granted. Like healthy friends, a faithful spouse, and the Holy Spirit who wakes me from my horrible visions and reminds me to pray.

But I think I'll start praying something new tonight. It will probably be something like this: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, guard my dreams. Guide me to yourself, even while I sleep. And when I wake, guide my thoughts to you. Amen.

A Crisis of Faith

Scripture says to wait expectantly on the Lord. Day after day I did just that as I sat quietly in the early morning with my Bible open to Job and Psalms. I read Scripture and prayed honest, struggling prayers. I was desperate to hear some direction and assurance from God. More than a response to my unanswered prayer, I needed to reconnect deeply with him.

The more I read the Bible, the more I was confronted with my own pride. I was demanding that God answer my prayers in ways that I deemed best based on my limited understanding. One verse that really stuck with me was Isaiah 7:9: "If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all." I prayed, "Lord, I believe. Please help my unbelief."

Scripture helped me see faith through God's viewpoint. It opened my eyes to see that our faith is very important to God. Phrases such as "your faith which is of greater worth than gold," "without faith it is impossible to please God," and "when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?" haunted me. One morning I sensed the Holy Spirit whisper to my heart. "I am God. Trust Me." I finally yielded my painful circumstance and my life anew to God's plan and his glory. I began to see God's grace as he tested my faith to strengthen it.

Life can be intensely difficult. At times trials can seem unbearable. I still live with the same circumstances that tested my faith many years ago. Yet God continues to show himself faithful to me and my family. He reminds me that my life is not my own, that there is a plan beyond what I can see, and that my faith means more to God than I can imagine.

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Like Tidbits in My Tummy

Food, glorious food! It's the time of year for eating. I imagine most of our Thanksgiving turkey gobbled up and the leftovers transformed into dishes like Real Simple's recommendation: turkey barbeque sandwiches.

Food has power over our health. Earlier this week my husband, Dale, re-lived the poisonous side of food. His favorite meal, pizza, was ruined. It was, unfortunately, during the wee hours of the morning, at the start of our long drive from Los Angeles to home in Colorado. The food poisoning he experienced completely overhauled his body, leaving him weak, annoyed by the embarrassing inconvenience.

Food has power to unite us. Earlier this year Dale and I started a house church with another family. We have three rules, we eat together, we pray together and we share spiritual and financial resources together. The church has since doubled in size. Every week we rotate who will host, who will provide the main dish and who will cook up our "soul food." So far, I've learned more about how to follow Jesus, more about love and unity than I've learned in years spent in my church pew. Even the kids participate.

One week after discussing gossip during house church, I was giving piano lessons to the youngest member, a 10-year-old boy named Peter. He told me a story about an annoying neighborhood dog, imitating the dog's yeowl so convincingly that we both burst into giggles. Then, he paused and sheepishly looked up at me. "I guess I've just gossiped about him." I explained that I wasn't sure gossip applied to dogs, but I was glad he cared about speaking unkindly about others.

Our house church's conversation of gossip took place in one of our first meetings. It was while we were polishing off these amazing cr?me br?l?e desserts. We ate and struggled together to come up with a definition for gossip. One teen daughter defined gossip as saying anything behind a person's back that you wouldn't say to their face. Two of the fathers agreed that gossip was that speaking when you're not part of the problem or the solution. I read a few verses to share a Biblical idea of gossip.

One from Proverbs has since stuck with me, "The words of a gossip are like choice morsels; they go down to the inmost parts" (18:8 and 26:22). We batted around that "choice morsels" phrase trying to live in the metaphor. One 20-something, made the observation that "choice morsels" of food go down into our bellies and are then distributed throughout our bodies. Just like food actually becomes part of us, so gossip becomes part of us. Gossip is often delicious. But like poisoned pizza: tasty when it goes down yet runs havoc through our veins.

When I gossip, it changes me. What may have started as a small misunderstanding grows larger the more I share it. I become more vested in my point of view. Since that house church meeting, I've been using the Tasty Moral Test to watch my motivations before I speak of another person.

Tasty Morsel Test:

1.Am I hungry for a treat or for a meal? I'll often share or listen to something because I'm excited about a tasty little nugget, not because I'm really hungry to help, hungry to forgive, hungry to lay down my life for this person.

2. Will this knowledge sit in my soul as poison or nourishment? Once I share or hear this, will it help me love and sustain the people involved? Or will it leave me with a sour taste about them, poisoning my ability to help them?

3. Will I roil, churn and want to belch this stuff out? Crude as it may sound, one tried and true test for gossip is how quickly I want to unload it.

We need hearty soul food. With Christmas pressure to ramp up family and ministry activities we will be sorely tempted to put tasty little tidbits in our souls. Let's nourish our souls with meals that sustain us so that we are healthy enough to share good soul food with others.

Merry ... Advent?

I have this weird rule for myself. It is one that requires great discipline and mental fortitude. Here it is: I refuse to listen to any Christmas music before Thanksgiving weekend. Okay, this may not seem very ambitious to you, but have you tried doing this in our society? We laud the wonders of the Starbucks gingersnap latte (whatever happened to the gingerbread latte, anyway?) before Election Day has come. And after Halloween, I find it impossible to walk through any department store without being inundated with baubles and festoons of holiday delight. These obstacles make my no pre-yuletide music rule difficult.

Why does our culture feel the need to jump into this season immediately after we finish trick-or-treating? Well, quite truthfully, preparing for Christmas is fun! I love getting swept up in the flurry of preparation. The hustle and bustle of shopping, cooking, eating, and longtime family traditions—in their best moments—make us joyful and nostalgic.

This period of expectancy is exciting for all who celebrate Christmas but especially for us as Christians. We anticipate the delights of Christmas and most importantly await the birth of our Savior, the mystery of the Word made flesh.

As we end the first week of Advent (which began last Sunday), we have begun four weeks of fasting and waiting to prepare for the celebration feast of Jesus' arrival. We join the church across the globe in eager expectation because this season unifies all who submit themselves to waiting for Jesus. It is a time to ponder what the incarnation really means for us: A God so majestic and beyond our scope of understanding humbled himself in the form of a helpless, utterly dependent infant. He came in humanity so we could know his divinity—that we could see him as Savior and Emmanuel—God with us.

Through Advent we also understand—on a very small scale—what the Israelites of Christ's day were feeling. How long had they waited for their Messiah? How long had his coming been foretold and prophesied? They were sick of waiting as they experienced exile and persecution. But still they waited. Why? Because they needed this Savior and they trusted their God would fulfill his promise. Look at this example from the prophet Isaiah:

"Behold my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my Spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. He will not grow faint or be discouraged till he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his law." (Isaiah 42:1-4)

This was the Jesus the Jews waited for, and this is the same Savior we wait for today. We anticipate his first coming at Christmas, but Advent is also a reminder of his imminent second coming - when Jesus will fulfill all that has been promised. We have seen a glimpse of the peace and grace Jesus brought, but we wait with the rest of creation for the justice he will one day bring. We live in the tension between these times.

I invite you to take these next few weeks to ponder the mystery of Christmas. Even as you enjoy the holiday activities and parties, keep a still place in your heart to dwell on what Christ's coming means for us. Where do you see injustice and unrest in your life or in our society? How can you invite Jesus to be Emmanuel there? What does his willingness to wrap himself in human frailty teach us about his greatness? How is he speaking to you this season?

The Adulteress

Her story is scandalous, first word to last. And glorious.

At dawn, the teachers of the Law and the Pharisees tarried by a nameless woman's door, itching to drag her out of bed and into the temple, where Jesus was teaching. Moments later, half-dressed at best, the woman was forced to "stand before the group," like Hester Prynne wearing her scarlet letter, cheeks stained with shame.

The words of the Pharisees were harsh, accusatory: "Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery." This woman? Look, she wasn't alone in that bed. Where was her partner in crime? Sleeping in? Reading the Mount Olives Times? Since Mosaic Law insisted "both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death," how come they weren't both hauled into the temple?

Listen, the Pharisees weren't interested in punishing the man or the woman. They were after Jesus. And so they threw words at him, sharper than any rocks: "In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?"

Oh, great. If Jesus told them, "Stick to the Law: Stone her," his grace-filled teachings went out the window. But if he said, "No! Don't stone her," he opposed the Law of Moses, a dangerous move for a rabbi. The Pharisees thought they had him nailed.

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