Casting Stones

In my previous post, I wrote about the refining fire — a mysterious and holy process. While it strips us, shapes us, and ultimately transforms us, in our pain, in our surrender, we come to know God more intimately. We discover that we are not as strong as we thought, not as self-sufficient, not as in control. We are, in truth, deeply dependent on grace.

And yet… even in this place of personal refinement — or perhaps because of it — we sometimes fall into a strange posture: judgment.

We start noticing other people’s faults more easily. Their choices. Their flaws. Their failures. We start measuring them against standards we ourselves are struggling to meet. We watch them fumble and fall, and before we even realize it, we’ve picked up a stone — perhaps not in our hands, but in our thoughts, our words, our tone, our assumptions.

John 8:7 (NIV) “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone...”

Judgment isn’t ours to carry. None of us are sinless. None of us are done being refined.

Yet, while sitting in the fire of our own transformation, we still believe we have the right to judge someone else’s?

Malachi 3:3 doesn’t say the fire is for some — it says God sits as a refiner and purifier of His people. All of them.

Each of us.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth: We don't always look refined while we're being refined. Sometimes we look raw, messy, unhinged, immature. Sometimes we’re stuck in patterns we don’t know how to break. Sometimes we fall back into old habits, or lash out from old wounds, or act in ways that make others question if we’ve grown at all.

But does God walk away?

No. He sits. Patient. Present. Watchful.

And if He — the only one truly worthy of judgment — chooses to stay and work gently with each of us, how much more should we offer that same grace to each other?

The person you’re tempted to criticize might be standing in their own fire right now. You may not see the heat, but it’s there. And God is sitting with them, just as He sits with you. Refining. Purifying. Waiting for His image to appear.

So maybe instead of casting stones, we can extend compassion. Speak gently. Pray quietly. Trust that their process — no matter how messy — matters to God, too.

Because the fire is not a place for comparison. It’s a place for surrender. And none of us comes out of it shining because we were better than others. We shine because God stayed with us long enough to bring His reflection to the surface.

So if you're in the fire today, let it humble you — not just for your own growth, but so you can be a safe place for someone else in theirs.

Ask yourself today:

Am I offering the same grace I so deeply need?

Am I making space for others to be refined, or am I judging them while their fire still burns?

Lay the stone down. The fire is doing its work.

And none of us is finished yet.