The Tossed Stone: A Reflection on Consequences of Good Intentions

Even the stones we toss with care carry consequences we cannot see.

I heard a short story a few weeks ago. The details have softened in my memory, but the heart of it remains.

A man shared how his father once told him:

“If you ever see a rock in the middle of the road, pick it up and toss it out of the way. Someone might trip. Someone might get hurt. Clear the path for the next person.”

It’s a quiet kind of wisdom. Uncomplicated. Loving.

But my mind wandered, as it often does.

What if that tossed stone—meant to protect someone—hits another?

What if, instead of removing the problem, we simply relocate it?

What if our attempt to help ends up causing harm somewhere else?

Every stone tossed carries weight—even if meant to protect.

That’s the thing about intention. Even the kindest acts can carry consequences—especially the kind wrapped in good intentions.

A few days later, a rock came flying out of nowhere and hit my windshield while I was driving. No warning. No time to react. Thank God no one was hurt.

But I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Because I thought, “Well… who just tossed their stone off the road and into my life?”

And then another thought came—not from the story I heard, but from a different one. A much older one.

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

A woman, dragged into public shame. A crowd ready to judge. Stones clutched in hand—justified, maybe. Or at least, so they thought.

But Jesus didn’t call out her sin. He called out theirs. And one by one, the stones fell to the ground, untouched by blood.

We are so quick to toss stones, aren’t we? Sometimes in the name of help. Sometimes in the name of justice. Sometimes—despite good intentions—the consequences ripple far beyond what we see.

But what if the true invitation is not to toss the stone at all?

The rock is in the road. Traffic is coming. Something must be done. But not everything requires us to toss it quickly aside.

Sometimes the right thing is clear. Sometimes we need to ask,

“Is this mine to move? Or someone else’s to face?”

Sometimes we move the stone. Sometimes we simply slow down and warn others. Sometimes we carry the weight for a while—until God shows us where to place it.

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What it reveals

Good intentions can still cause harm. Judgment disguised as “help” can wound deeper than silence. And sometimes, what looks like mercy is really control.

What it asks

Am I acting out of compassion—or discomfort?

Do I move stones to protect… or to avoid?

Am I trusting God with the ones that remain?

What it undoes

The myth of righteousness through reaction.

The illusion that we know best.

The belief that all obstacles are meant to be removed.

What it plants

A quieter courage.

A surrendered obedience.

A deeper pause before we act—one shaped by trust, not impulse.

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Seed for Thought

Am I clearing a path—

or casting a judgment?

And have I considered where the stone might land?

Or whether God meant it to stay?

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