In view of the recent trial and acquittal of Casey Anthony, I’ve been thinking a lot about her and her deceased daughter. Honestly, I don’t know whether the outcome was the right one or not.

I do know that it’s easy to look at all the evidence and see where blame falls Casey. There are too many inconsistancies in her story, too many points that are unexplainable, too much behavior on her part that is inexcusable.

If she were truly and completely innocent, would she have acted differently? Would she have contacted the police sooner? I think so. Her actions are not the actions of an innocent mother.

So I pick up a stone. Lots of people probably would, given the opportunity. Mostly what I hear in conversations about her is judgment and condemnation. She deserved to go to jail for a very long time for what she did and how she lied about what she did. Maybe.

I do remember another story about a woman caught red-handed in the very act of adultery. I remember people standing around her with stones, ready to cast them and fully justified in doing so.

I remember the words of Jesus. “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” So I look at the stone in my own hand and remember my sins. I look at what I could have been apart from the grace of God– something so much worse than Casey Anthony ever thought about being.

I remember that when it came time for judgment, I received mercy instead. I recall the man Jesus hanging on the cross that should have been mine. I remember He died so that I could go free, declared innocent and justified. Just as if I’d never sinned at all.

So how can I throw any stones? I can’t. I can grieve for the tragic loss of a little girl. I can weep at so much brokenness and shame and secrets and dysfunction.

I can pray for the soul of Casey Anthony. Maybe she can find forgiveness and mercy in the embrace of the Savior. It wouldn’t be the first time a murderer has found grace. Remember the thief on the cross? Remember the apostle Paul?

I truly do hope that justice comes for the little girl. I also hope that mercy comes, too. And grace. Because I know that I need grace just as much as Casey Anthony does. So do you, if you’re honest. We all do.