When someone falls spiritually or morally, the response from others is often one of swift judgment. Rather than extending a hand to lift them up, there is a tendency to criticize, condemn, and withhold support—because, after all, it was “their fault.” This reaction, though common, stands in direct opposition to the heart of the Gospel.
In the military, soldiers are trained to assess the cause of a fall or injury. If a soldier is wounded because they removed their protective gear, the error is acknowledged—but it never negates the urgency to save their life. The immediate goal is to stop the bleeding, stabilize the wounded, and ensure they return to safety. Blame does not take precedence over healing.
Yet within the church, there is often a stark contrast to this mindset. When a fellow believer stumbles, the instinct to evaluate and measure blame can overshadow the responsibility to restore. The fallen are left to suffer the consequences alone, bleeding out spiritually and emotionally, while others stand by, murmuring about how “they brought it on themselves.”
Scripture leaves no room for this approach. Galatians 6:1 offers clear instruction: “Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness.” The emphasis is not on determining who is at fault but on the urgency of restoration. The phrase “overtaken in a fault” implies that the fall often results from personal error. The acknowledgment of fault does not exempt the body of Christ from the duty to restore.
Christ’s teaching is equally unambiguous. In John 8, when a woman caught in adultery was brought before Him, the crowd stood ready to stone her. Jesus’ response was simple yet profound: “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her” (John 8:7). One by one, the stones fell to the ground as each person walked away, convicted by their own conscience. The Lord’s response to the woman? “Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more” (John 8:11). Restoration, not condemnation, was His final word.
A powerful lyric from the song This Must Be the Place echoes this truth: “We cannot lift the fallen if our hand still holds a stone.” The imagery is striking. A hand clenched around a stone cannot simultaneously extend in grace. To restore the fallen, stones must be released. The act of lifting requires open hands—hands free of judgment, blame, and the desire to inflict further pain.
Restoration is not reserved for those who fall by accident. It is for those who make mistakes, who willfully err, and who find themselves broken by their own choices. It is for those who knew better but failed regardless. In fact, the very essence of grace is that it extends to the undeserving, for “all have sinned and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).
The call to restore the fallen is not conditional. There is no clause that states, “if they deserve it,” or “if their repentance is convincing enough.” The command is unconditional, rooted in the same mercy that each believer has received. “Freely ye have received, freely give” (Matthew 10:8).
The reality is that sin, by its nature, often bears consequences. The fallen may already be dealing with the wreckage of their choices—broken relationships, lost trust, and shattered opportunities. The role of the church is not to compound their suffering but to offer hope and healing amid the fallout.
Imagine the testimony of a church known not for harsh judgment but for relentless grace. A place where the wounded find refuge, where those overtaken by faults are gently restored, and where mercy triumphs over judgment. This is the reflection of Christ’s heart.
It is time to stop wielding stones. The ministry of reconciliation (2 Corinthians 5:18) requires hearts that echo the compassion of the Good Samaritan, who crossed the road to bind the wounds of a stranger—without questioning how he ended up beaten and left for dead (Luke 10:30-37).
Restoration does not mean excusing sin or dismissing its seriousness. It means standing in the gap, helping the broken mend, and pointing them toward the grace that alone can sustain and transform them. It means fulfilling the law of Christ by bearing one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2).
Let the church be known as a place where the fallen are not discarded but dignified. Let hands be open, not to throw stones, but to lift the wounded. In doing so, the church reflects the heart of the Father—the One who runs to meet the prodigal while he is still far off, who places the best robe upon his shoulders, and who rejoices at his return (Luke 15:20-24).
The question is not whether the fallen deserve restoration. The question is whether the church will be faithful to the call to restore.