In 1974, six years after I became pastor of Tenth Presbyterian Church, a number of seminarians, pastors, and myself launched a conference to promote Calvinistic doctrines which we felt were being widely neglected by most Christians. We did not know what to call our conference, but since it began in Philadelphia, we decided to call it the Philadelphia Conference on Reformed Theology. It became quite popular, and in the years since it has been held in such widely scattered cities as San Francisco, Los Angeles, St. Louis, Chicago, Toronto, Memphis, Pittsburgh, and Atlanta, as well as its home city of Philadelphia.
The question is: Why did Jesus not condemn the woman? Why did he not cast the first stone? We can understand that he wanted to be gracious. We would want to be ourselves. But how could he forgive her and still uphold the law? As soon as we reflect on that, we realize that the reason he did not condemn the woman is surely the same reason why he does not condemn us, if we are among those who have believed on him. Why does Jesus not pronounce a sentence of eternal death on those who come to him in faith today? It is because of his atoning work on the cross by which he was, at that time, soon to take upon himself the punishment for the sins of all whom the Father would give to him. Jesus forgave the woman, but he did not do it easily or in disregard of God's law. He did it because his death was to make forgiveness possible.
The problem these religious leaders brought to Jesus in John 8 was not like the earlier challenges about paying taxes or what life was going to be like in the resurrection. Concerning the test of the woman caught in adultery, there were three important matters at stake: 1.) the life of the woman, which was precious, at least to Jesus; 2.) Jesus' teaching about the gracious nature of his kingdom; and 3.) the law of Moses, which had been given by God. The way the question was posed, it seemed to the rulers that Jesus would have to sacrifice at least one and possibly two of these three elements. Jesus was known for being gracious. He taught that God was love, and he seemed himself to love sinners. But if Jesus should show love to the woman who had been caught in adultery and recommend that her life be spared, he would be setting himself against the divinely-given law of Moses. How could a teacher do that and still pretend to be a prophet sent by God? No one could both oppose the law of God and also speak for God at the same time. Jesus would be identified as a false teacher.
But there is more to the meaning of Jesus' personal graciousness than how he is described in 1 Corinthians 13 and Galatians 5. For when John introduces Jesus as “full of grace and truth” he does so in a verse that is speaking of the incarnation, that is, in a verse that tells how Jesus is God come down to us in human form. And the importance of that is that it means that God is gracious, too, for God is like Jesus.
In the fifteenth chapter of Acts there is a revealing statement of how this change must have struck the early Christians. The council of Jerusalem was in session, and it had been debating whether the ceremonial requirements of the Old Testament should be imposed on Gentile Christians. Paul and his fellow missionaries had been preaching the gospel to Gentiles, Gentiles had been turning to Christ, and churches that were largely Gentile were being established. Paul had not been requiring these Gentile Christians to come under legal Jewish obligations, requirements such as circumcision, keeping the Sabbath, observing Jewish feast days, and kosher cooking. His opponents, known as the legalistic party, were insisting that these were essential. They argued that no one could be saved without them.
