He Wrote in the Dust

Do you stand on the corner with stone in hand,

Your signs shouting judgment on fallen man?

He walked among sinners, the sick, the defiled,

But you scream condemnation, where grace reconciled.

You call down the fire, like you’re pure and just,

While the Savior wrote mercy in the quiet dust.

What words have you spoken to heal their despair?

Do your signs carry hope, or the weight of your glare?

Where is the love that cast out the fear?

Where are the arms to draw the broken near?

Jesus called the lost with a whisper of grace,

Not a bitter word or a hateful face.

You preach the wrath, but forget the cross,

Demanding their penance for what you once lost.

The woman condemned, with stones at her feet,

Was freed by a Savior—her shame turned to peace.

And He asked the crowd, “Who is without sin?”

But you hold the hammer and drive the nails in.

Did He raise a sign, or did He raise the dead?

Did He curse the hurting, or break their bread?

Where is the love that cast out the fear?

Where are the arms to draw the broken near?

Jesus called the lost with a whisper of grace,

Not a bitter word or a hateful face.

Let your hands drop the stones, let your tongue cease its war,

For the Gospel you carry should open the door.

He sat with the taxmen, the thieves, and the blind,

Why are you shouting and leaving them behind?

They’re listening, watching, hearts hanging low,

Will they see the Shepherd or the stones that you’ve thrown?

Where is the love that cast out the fear?

Where are the arms to draw the broken near?

Jesus called the lost with a whisper of grace,

Not a bitter word or a hateful face.

So, write in the dust; let mercy speak,

For the loudest love is found in the meek.

Lay down your signs, let the sinner come near,

Because grace is louder than hatred and fear.