I live a life of sin; I'll be the first to admit it to you. I've dabbled in prostitution, adultery, fornication, or whatever you would prefer to call it. I know I'm doing wrong, but I can't seem to stop. My husband was abusive, so I turned to other men. Every night I dream of what I could've done differently in my life.

I used to wish that I could rewrite history
I used to dream that each mistake could be erased
that I could just pretend
I never knew the me back then

I used to go to the Synagogue every Sabbath and observed all the festivals and holidays. I was labeled a good woman, a woman any man would be proud to have as a wife. I used to pray but no longer. Yahweh is a God of justice; I don't have the courage to face him any more.

I used to pray that You would take this shame away
Hide all the evidence of who I've been

I was finally found out by the Pharisees, and religious teachers. I am not surprised, but I thought it would have been sooner. They're dragging me from my home; they are leading me to a young rabbi who is teaching in the temple. Surely this is my judgment from God. I will be stoned and I will pass into Sheol.

They drag me in front of a crowed. Their scowls and hatred burn until I see the rabbi's look of pity and love in his brown gold flecked eyes. Love? In the man who was to condemn me?

"Teacher," they say to the rabbi, "this woman was caught in the act of adultery. The law of Moses says to stone her. What do you say?"

The rabbi stoops down and writes in the dust with his finger.

I can't believe a teacher of the Torah wouldn't immediately prescribe my punishment.

The shouts grow louder around me, all demanding a consequence for my sin.

The rabbi stands up again and says, "All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!" Then he stoops down again and writes in the dust.

When my accusers hear this, they slip away one by one, until only rabbi Jesus is left in the middle of the crowd with me. Jesus stands up again and says to me, "Where are your accusers? Didn't even one of them condemn you?"

"No, Lord," I say.

Jesus says to me, "Neither do I. Go and sin no more."

I rush out of the temple eager to start my new life. I deserve death but I had met the God of compassion and he poured his love onto me.

But it's the memory of
The place You brought me from
That keeps me on my knees
And even though I'm free

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

I have not lived a life that boasts of anything
I don't take pride in what I bring
But I'll build an altar with
The rubble that You've found me in
And every stone will sing
Of what You can redeem

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

Don't let me forget
Everything You've done for me
Don't let me forget
The beauty in the suffering

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar.