Nicole has always been a sharp, discerning woman—not easily impressed. She was raised in a home where standards mattered. You carried yourself with pride, spoke with purpose, and held your ground. Her father set the tone: loyal, consistent, strong—the kind of man who didn’t just talk about it, he lived it. In her eyes, every man was measured by his standard. If you weren’t steady, if your word didn’t mean much, if your presence wobbled—she wasn’t interested. It was a must before she’d even consider marriage. Marriage, to her, wasn’t just about love—it was about character. And in her opinion, most hadn’t even come close to qualifying.
Everything changed after her parents’ divorce. Her father’s infidelity shattered the pedestal she’d placed him on, leaving a deep mark. It didn’t just change how she saw her father—it reshaped her view of men altogether. Quietly, something inside her heart became guarded and cautious. Broken trust does that.
Distrust started to feel like wisdom. But over time, that same discernment she’d once trusted started to harden into quiet judgment—especially when it came to people’s flaws. Then one day, she found herself reading the story of a woman dragged out in shame while people stood ready to stone her. In John 8:7-8 (NLT), Jesus said, “Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone.” Then he stooped down again and wrote in the dust.” This truth cracked something open inside her. Conviction started to make its way through. She didn’t have stones in her hands, but she carried some in her heart. Stones of disappointment. Stones of unmet expectations. And maybe, just maybe, Jesus was inviting her to put them down.
Our Lord and Savior was teaching in the temple courts when the Pharisees showed up with a woman caught in adultery. They dragged her into the center, exposed and humiliated, using the Law of Moses like a weapon—asking Jesus if she should be stoned. But Jesus saw right through their trap. They wanted to twist the law, turn grace into guilt, and bait Him into judgment. Instead, He flipped it back on them with something simple but powerful: “Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone.” One by one, the stones dropped to the ground. The accusers went silent, and then they walked away.
Nicole never thought she’d be the one throwing stones—judging, holding on tight to disappointment—but the truth was, she’d been living that way longer than she wanted to admit. When she finally got married, it didn’t feel like the new beginning she hoped for. It was empty—emotionally dry, spiritually distant. She felt her hope and joy slipping away like water through her fingers. She longed to be seen, to be wanted, to matter—but the hardest part? She didn’t know how to make others feel that way.
Somewhere along the line, Nicole had confused discernment with distance. She’d gotten so used to guarding herself that she didn’t realize she was also closing herself off from grace. She held people to standards they couldn’t meet, just like she had held her father to one he eventually broke. And while she never said it out loud, she started expecting disappointment before it even arrived.
But that moment in John 8 never left her. She kept thinking about how Jesus stooped down—how He didn’t even respond to the accusers right away. He took His time. He dealt with the atmosphere before He addressed the sin. And when He did speak, He didn’t just protect the woman—He exposed everyone else’s need for grace too.
John 8:10–11 (NLT) says, “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.’” Jesus didn’t deny her guilt—but He also didn’t define her by it. He gave her dignity. He gave her a future. And He told her she could walk away free.
That’s what Nicole needed to remember: grace doesn’t excuse sin, but it does make room for redemption. We don’t throw stones because we’re all in desperate need of God’s mercy. We all fall short. We all have pages in our story we wish we could rewrite.
Nicole had to face a hard truth that we all do: “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard” (Romans 3:23 NLT). None of us are perfect. None of us get it right all the time. That’s why the stones we hold—our judgments, our disappointments, our grudges—only weigh us down. But Jesus didn’t come to point out our failures; He came to lift us up, to cover our messiness and shortcomings with grace, and invite us into a life where love wins over shame.
That’s the power of Christ’s love. It calls us out, but it also lifts us up. It tells the truth, but it does it with kindness. It reminds us: we don’t have to hold on to what’s broken just because we’ve gotten used to it. We can let go. We can forgive. We can start again.
Maybe that’s what Nicole had missed all along. Jesus wasn’t just asking her to stop judging others. He was inviting her into something deeper—into freedom. Into the kind of liberty that only He can give to us. It’s a freedom that softens the heart. It anchors the soul and opens our hands so that we’re no longer clenching what hurt us. We release the disappointment and judgment, and stand humbly before him with no stones left to throw. ■
Scripture quotations marked (NLT) are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.
“No Stones Left to Throw”, written by Kim Times, edited by Rev. Fran Mack and KLizzie for Sundie Morning Sistas ©2025. All rights reserved. All done to the glory of God through Jesus Christ, our Lord! SMS is dedicated to inspiring and encouraging Christian Women through the Word of God.