It’s so easy
To pick up stones
To cast at those
Who have it all wrong
Those who don’t look like
Or act like
Or worship like
Those who have wounded and betrayed
Or badly misbehaved
We throw our rocks
With icy glares
And silent scours
And sometimes we yell from our
Ivory white towers
However we choose to cast stones
Whether in silence and contempt
Or Shouting from street
Or hidden behind anonymity of screen
the effects just the same and
casting and throwing won’t relieve pain
But if we step back
And breathe
Take a moment of reprieve
If we consider our rage
Whether righteous or naught
Perhaps we could ponder the root
The cause
We judge from our wounds
From the places we hurt
We gather the rocks to
Cast away ache
To disassemble offence
For the fury is a great
When we feel that first quiver
The first desire to cast
Take a moment and
What am I wounded by?
Where do I hurt?
What discomfort sourced this pain?
And makes the heart lurch 
Then let Spirit speak
To our wounded soul…of places where
we often fall short
Of things we have done
And things left undone
Grateful that God is the Judge
Only God can restore
Only God can redeem
Only God heals the wounds
That our hearts often scream….
And with that we know
OUR job is to love
and allow God to judge
Then drop all our rocks
 and go home…..