Jesus Didn’t Throw Stones

I know Jelly Roll’s story. His past isn’t a secret. Drug dealing. Prison. Mental health battles. Years of brokenness lived out loud. So when I watched him stand on a national stage at the Grammys and boldly give glory to God, I didn’t see a performance. I saw a man on fire for Jesus. I saw sincerity. I saw passion. I saw a belief that ran deeper than anything for him in that moment. And it brought me to tears.
There was something holy about watching someone who knows where they came from openly testify about where God is taking them. It reminded me that God doesn’t wait for us to be cleaned up before He starts working. He meets us in the middle of the mess and begins transforming us from the inside out.
Then the next day came, and with it, a heartbreak I wasn’t expecting. I watched people who openly identify as Christians publicly tear him down. Not with discernment. Not with gentleness. But with judgment. The words that cut the deepest were people declaring that he isn’t a “real Christian.” As if that authority belongs to us. Scripture is clear that only Jesus sees the heart. Only Jesus knows the depth of someone’s repentance, sincerity, and relationship with Him. We don’t get to stand in that place.
This kind of public shaming damages the witness of Christianity more than we often realize. It paints believers as self-righteous and condemning, more eager to throw stones than to celebrate growth. For those who are curious about faith, new to church, or returning from a long time away, it sends a clear message: if you don’t fit a certain mold, you won’t be welcome here.
I know that fear personally. The visible tattoos on my body made me deeply hesitant to walk back into a church. I worried about how I would be perceived before anyone ever knew my heart. Even now, I sometimes second-guess choices like wearing makeup, jewelry, or pants, or dying my hair, despite having carefully studied the Bible on those things. Judgment has a way of lingering long after the words stop.
Scripture gives us a clear picture of how Jesus responds in moments like this. In John 8, a woman caught in adultery is dragged before Him, surrounded by people eager to condemn her. Jesus doesn’t deny that sin exists, but He refuses to join the mob. He tells them that whoever is without sin may throw the first stone. One by one, they walk away. Jesus, the only one qualified to condemn her, chooses mercy instead. “Neither do I condemn you,” He says. “Go and sin no more.”
That story reveals the heart of Christ. Grace first. Truth always. Condemnation withheld by the only one who had the right to give it.
If we have received that kind of grace, we are called to extend it.
Being Christlike means applauding growth and leaving the past where Jesus already buried it. It means being careful not to turn personal convictions into universal rules unless Scripture clearly supports them. When something can’t be supported by Scripture, we need the humility to say so, or we risk drifting into legalism disguised as holiness.
As representatives of Christ, our words should reflect His heart. We are called to speak with love, truth, grace, and humility, never with condemnation, hatred, or self-righteousness.
The body of Christ needs to remember that every one of us has sinned. The only perfect man is the one we are waiting for to return. No one stands above anyone else. When someone reads a Christian post and its comments or walks into a church, they should feel welcomed, loved, and embraced like family, not inspected or shamed.
If Jesus were standing here today, I believe His heart would be very heavy. Not because sinners are seeking Him imperfectly, but because His children are wounding one another in His name. Grace was never meant to be guarded like a private treasure. It was meant to be poured out, just as it was poured out on us.