Keyboard warriors of today are the modern-day Pharisees throwing rocks.

I had an image in my mind of someone sitting at a computer, preparing to write yet another viral story about the failure of a pastor or ministry leader.

What happened is real.
It may be horrific.
It may need to be confronted.
There may be victims who deserve to be heard, protected, and defended.

But there is something else happening at the keyboard.

The person writing hates what happened…but somewhere beneath that righteous anger is also the anticipation of what exposing it will bring.

The clicks.    The shares.   The comments.

The attention that comes from being the one who uncovered it, reported it, or said what everyone else was afraid to say.

And in their mind, they are helping the Body of Christ.

But then I saw the keyboard. Every key was a rock. And suddenly I thought about the woman caught in adultery in John 8.

She was placed in the center of a crowd, surrounded by people holding stones. Her sin wasn’t imaginary. Jesus didn’t have to pretend that what she had done was right in order to show her mercy.

But before anyone could throw a stone, Jesus turned the attention of the accusers toward their own hearts: “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”

One by one, the rocks fell.

That is the image I can’t get away from. What if some of the rocks we throw today don’t leave our hands? What if they leave our keyboards? What if our words can become stones? What if, while believing we are defending righteousness, we become so comfortable publicly throwing the failures of another member of the Body that we forget we are part of that same Body?

There is a difference between accountability and accusation.

There is a difference between bringing darkness into the light and building an audience around someone else’s darkness. There is a difference between protecting victims and enjoying the destruction of the guilty.

None of this means that sin should be hidden. It means that even when sin must be confronted, our own hearts still have to remain at the feet of Jesus.

Before this sounds like I’m pointing my finger at somebody else…I’m not.

I’m a lifelong pastor’s kid. I spent 12 years as a pastor’s wife, and I’ve spent many more years in ministry leadership.

I know stuff. I know stories that would make your head spin. I’ve seen things behind the scenes. I’ve watched people fail. I’ve watched people get hurt. And I’ve had my own share of hurts.

There have been times I’ve wanted to sit down at a keyboard and spill my guts. To tell the story.   To tell my side of the story. To finally say the things I’ve kept quiet about.

Just being real, there are moments when doing that would feel really, really good.

But every time I’m tempted to act on that fleshly desire, I hear another truth: “To whom much is given, much is required.”

And I have to ask myself…If I post this, what does it glorify? Who does it exalt?  Jesus…or me?  Who is reading my words?

Is there someone reading who doesn’t have a relationship with Christ yet? Someone who already believes that cliché… “Christians are just a bunch of hypocrites.” And will the story I’m so anxious to tell become one more reason for them to believe it?

That doesn’t mean there aren’t stories that need to be told.

There are.

It doesn’t mean abuse should be covered up, victims silenced, wrongdoing ignored, or leaders protected from accountability.

Absolutely not.

Sometimes bringing something into the light is the righteous thing to do. But I have to be willing to ask the Holy Spirit a harder question: Why do I want to tell it?

Is this about protecting someone? Is this about bringing truth into the light? Is this about restoration? Is this about accountability?

Or is there a little piece of me that wants the satisfaction of throwing the rock?

I know something else, too…

I’ve needed grace. I’ve needed mercy. I’ve failed.

And I am incredibly grateful that every failure of mine hasn’t been handed to the internet for public consumption.

So I come back to the picture in my mind. Jesus is standing beside the person at the computer.

He’s not defending the sin they’re writing about. He’s not asking them to call evil good. He’s asking them to look down at what they’re holding. Every key beneath their fingers is a stone.

And He simply says:

DROP YOUR ROCKS.

And sometimes…

that’s exactly what I have to do.

I take my hands off the keyboard. I drop my rock. And I step back.

Because ultimately, I have to ask myself:

Does what I’m about to say glorify Jesus…or does it glorify me?