| What
went wrong?
I hate this topic!
What happened? Life in the Garden was so good. God’s glory was there. And
there was order, community, and purposeful work. God had provided all that
human beings needed, including freedom and the opportunity to mature. It
was all so good: the kingdom of right relationships—the kingdom of righteousness.
But we are a
long way from Eden, aren’t we? We live in a world full of pain, destruction,
hatred, and self-centered cruelty. We see it—not just "out there", but
"in here" as well. What went wrong?
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Did humanity get
confused?
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Have we just forgotten
who we are supposed to be and need to be reminded?
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Do we just need
more education?
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Do we need to get
our personalities "integrated"?
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Is it that we are
basically good, but it is the culture and institutions which have corrupted
us?
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Is it that we are
still evolving and can’t be expected to be any better yet?
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Is it that the whole
material universe was somehow substandard to begin with and that we will
never really be able to work it out in this material world?
How did it
happen?
These are all
possible explanations, but none provide the biblical answer to what’s wrong
on planet earth. So how did God’s Genesis 1 evaluation that all creation
and humanity was "very good", change by Genesis 6 to one of the saddest
evaluations in the Bible? "And the Lord was sorry that he had made humankind
on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart."
Let’s go back
to the garden for a few minutes and walk with our first parents.
Humanity was
created from the dust of the ground. We are very much a part of the fabric
of the physical world. But God also created us to be in his image. We are
"only a little lower than the angels" says the Psalmist. We were created
to bear God’s family resemblance, but to do so firmly as a part of the
material world.
In the center
of the garden were two trees which were apparently designed to help these
new beings, who were so full of energy, creativity, love, freedom, willfulness,
intelligence and wonder to learn basic patterns of shalom. It’s one thing
to name the things in my world, but quite another to understand what they
mean. So God began to teach them.
The tree of
life was somehow there to say that in this universe there is a big
difference between life and not life. There are wonders everywhere,
but life is something different. There is growth, internal patterned change,
and most importantly
interdependentconnections between living things.
We call these relationships. We need other living things to survive.
God is the source of all life—and the sustainer of all life.
I’m not sure
how the tree of life taught this lesson, except that everywhere that it
is mentioned in the Bible it is associated with the sustaining of life
forever (cf. Gen. 3.22).
The tree of
the knowledge of good and evil was also in the middle of the garden.
It was about limits and about love.
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What did it teach
about limits?
God gave
a number of commands to our first parents, but only one prohibition. "You
may freely eat of every tree of the garden, but of this tree you shall
not eat, for in the day you eat it you shall die." One "no" in a garden
of "yes’s". Why? Is this a cruel act of entrapment on God’s part? Not at
all. The tree was to teach them not just about what sustains life, but
about who they were and where they came from.
Two great limits
were (and are) important to learn:
The first
is that we are human. We are not God. God was saying, "Remember I am
God, and you are not. I am the Creator, you are the creation. We’re a lot
alike because I created you to resemble me in many ways. But life is only
going to work if you first and always understand that you have limits—and
I’m limitless." God can decide to limit himself (and sometimes does)—but
we have limits built in by virtue of our createdness.
The second limits
is that we are intentionally incomplete. Even in this perfect world
of shalom, God says, remember that incompleteness and hunger
is the way you were created. It’s OK not to have everything. It’s OK to
have hungers. It’s OK not to feel perfect. It’s at the very point of our
incompleteness and our yearning that we usually recognize our need for
God. What do you yearn for? What tree do you think will satisfy that hunger?
The tree of life
was a place where our first parents had to recognize that they lacked something,
namely, the knowledge of good and evil. At that point of incompleteness
God’s question was "Will you trust me?"
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What did it teach
about love?
In a world
where people had freedom to choose, the question of trust is a question
about love, commitment and relationship. The limitation of the tree was
an altar where the man and woman recognized their humanness and limitation
and said, "yes", "I do", and "I will" to God.
It is important
to notice that both the tree about life and the tree about limits were
in the center of the man and woman’s world. Usually we think of limits
as being around the edges of life. We think, for example, of the limits
of our circumstances, or our technology, or our possibilities. These limits
can be pressed and expanded. But the lessons about life and the limits
of humanness were more central to personhood. Everyday as they went about
their life sustaining routines, there was this reminder about God and their
relationship with him. The words "God said" sustained them—delighted
them. We didn’t have to worry about life and about the knowledge of good
and evil, because "God said".
The anatomy
of temptation
The voice of
temptation in the garden turned out to be a serpent. It was through this
serpent that the inevitable questions about life were confronted. Is this
the devil in disguise? Maybe, but that’s not what the text says. What is
stated here is only that this was a creature created by God and that it
was "crafty"—"cunning". The Hebrew root word [????]?consists
of the same letters used in the previous verse to describe the man and
woman as "naked". It is used here as a word play or pun. The point is that
the serpent was more like them than any of the wild creatures. But also
that it was the master of sly subtlety.
We don’t know
why the conversation is directed toward the woman, since verse 6 suggests
that the man may have been right there with her. Maybe it was a sort of
quiz to make sure that she had learned everything that had been told to
the man before she arrived on the scene.
The first question
was simple enough: "Did God say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the
garden’?"
It is an innocent
enough sounding question. But what the serpent interjects into this scene
is doubt. Now be very clear that doubt is NOT sin. It is not a characteristic
which was inappropriate to the garden. Doubt is the inclination to ask
the next question. Everyone whose faith is alive and growing will go through
doubt. Specifically what the serpent called into question was whether the
woman thought that God’s character and God’s word were consistent. That
is a very subtle and very effective way to get at God’s people. Just get
them to believe that if they would only look at God’s character a little
more closely they would realize that he couldn’t possibly have really said
… whatever. God is so loving, after all. Certainly he doesn’t want me to
be incomplete. Or struggling. Certainly he wouldn’t want me to have any
unfulfilled yearnings, or worse yet, pain. Certainly he wouldn’t ask me
to sacrifice something that I really want for the sake of a commitment?
Certainly he wouldn’t prohibit something as beautiful as the expression
of our love sexually outside of marriage? Probably I didn’t hear his word
correctly, or maybe I’ve misinterpreted it.
The woman is
pretty good with this first question. Of course God didn’t say that they
shouldn’t eat from any tree in the garden. But in explaining what God did
say, their attention is now drawn toward the negative. This is clear by
the way that she adds to God’s command the phrase, "nor shall you touch
it". God actually didn’t say that part.
The emphasis
here has shifted to the "don’ts" of life and the couple begins to lose
sight of the "do’s". They had the whole garden from which to eat. And you
have to wonder whether in the back of their minds there was a little question
about whether this wasn’t just a bit unfair of God to make this tree off
limits. "We can’t even touch it!"
It’s easy to
move from wondering if we really are interpreting God’s word right, to
feeling resentful about how negative and limiting it is. Then we are set
up to begin to obsess on the very areas of life to which God has said "no",
rather than to live with great thankfulness about the areas where God has
said "yes".
The serpent’s
next comment is not a question, but a statement which contradicts God and
calls his goodness and integrity into question. "You will not die," it
said. "God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and
you will be like God, knowing good and evil". God is only protecting himself.
He really doesn’t want the best for you.
That argument
finally worked. It was at this point that the woman began to trust her
own perceptions and her own desires above God’s word. That is always the
fundamental question. Who are we going to trust? What’s the most reliable
authority for living?
The tree was
designed by God to focus eventually on that very question. God with this
tree said to humanity, "You are free, but you are limited. You are creature.
I am God. I am your Creator. I love you. I provide for you. But you’ve
got to trust me. Will you do that?"
We face these
questions every day. Are we going to take steps toward God or away from
him? Are we going to trust him, or ourselves?
The woman "saw
that the tree was good for food, that it was a delight to the eyes, and
that the tree was to be desired to make one wise." All of that was true.
But God had said, "Don’t eat." And instead she reasoned, "God doesn’t really
understand us. He really doesn’t know our needs. He’s just trying to protect
himself. This is what we need to be complete."
So she took the
fruit and ate it. And gave some to her husband with whom she was one. And
Scripture says that their "eyes were opened". They saw good and evil all
right, but they were on the wrong side of the ledger.
Sin is fundamentally
claiming the place of God. When we claim the place of God, a great chasm
opens between us and God. We’ve turned our back on him. "You’re
not what we need! We need this fruit."
The result is
shame
and guilt, which are symptoms of spiritual death. Shame is the opposite
of glory. It is disgrace, humiliation, embarrassment and loss of dignity.
Try to be God, and the radiance of life which comes from reflecting God’s
glory goes out. Shame is our sense of
being wrong. Guilt is our
agony over doing wrong. We may still look alive, but shame and guilt
are symptoms that we are separated from God’s glory.
Disobedience
makes us want to hide. Adam and Eve now couldn’t stand the openness to
one another or to God. They felt dirty, ashamed. They sewed fig leaves
together to hide from each other. And they tried to get lost in the deepest
forest away from God.
The amazing picture
here is that God is the one who comes looking for them. The problem with
sin is not that God can’t handle it, it’s that we can’t handle it. God
always pursues us even when we don’t want him.
But the human
reaction to sin is, first, to hide; second, to blame someone else; and
third, to justify ourselves, pretending like we didn’t really have a choice
or suggesting that it really isn’t that bad.
The unfolding
consequences of sin
The fall is
about a decision to disobey God and to try to be independent and self-sufficient.
It is about trying to be complete without God. In trying to be complete
in ourselves, we fractured the right relationships which God had created.
All the relationships
in the garden were affected. The relationship between God and humanity
was broken. People experienced fear and not love when they anticipated
seeing God. There was now guilt for the wrongs they had done, and shame
for who they had become. They hid from God and probably would have found
it more convenient to deny that he was even there.
Humanity became
confused and full of doubt and despair. They could no longer answer the
simple questions, "Who am I? Why am I here? What am I worth?" Some of them
not only destroyed others, but they physically destroyed themselves.
The relationship
between human beings was broken. Their intimacy was distorted. They were
afraid to let the other see intimately inside and they were afraid to love
too much. Their sexuality which had been such an incredible gift of communication
and procreation, now also became a source of frustration and hurt. They
quit living as servants of one another, and began to demand their rights
and grab at ways to control each other. They grew jealous, bitter, hateful,
deceitful, greedy, covetous, selfish, discontent, vane, lazy, lustful,
arrogant, and proud. They quickly learned to worship idols, to lie, to
steal, to hurt, and to murder one another. They were experiencing the decay
of spiritual death.
And the relationship
between humanity and creation was broken, too. Death and decay came into
the world. Instead of guarding the creation, humanity began to plunder
and pollute it. In the tangle of relationships, what affects one eventually
affects all.
Genesis 6.5-7:
"The LORD saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth,
and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil
continually. And the LORD was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth,
and it grieved him to his heart. So the LORD said, "I will blot out from
the earth the human beings I have created-- people together with animals
and creeping things and birds of the air, for I am sorry that I have made
them."
Sin is
gravely serious. Karl Menninger, noted American psychiatrist, in
Whatever
Became of Sin? says: "For sin is an implicitly aggressive quality—a
ruthlessness, a hurting, a breaking away from God and from the rest of
humanity, a partial alienation, or act of rebellion. Sin has a willful,
defiant or disloyal quality: someone is defiled or offended or hurt."
That "someone"
is not just another person, but God himself. God is majestically
righteous. God is pure, holy, and righteous. The biblical writers
describe God as burning light and purity. (Exod. 33.20ff; Isa. 6.1ff.)
Closely related
to God’s righteous holiness is his wrath. It is his reaction to evil—his
revulsion to all that has disrupted his creation. God’s wrath is not about
temper tantrums, but about what is simply right. You don’t really understand
the God of the Bible unless you understand the depth of both wrath and
grief that our sin has caused this righteous God.
Sin is
also universal. It affects everyone and everything.
And sin
is impossible to fix. "All the king’s horses and all the king’s
men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again."
So how
do we cope with this human sin-infested existence?
Here in the West
we try desperately to avoid the pain, the guilt, the shame of life.
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We set up life with
the one goal in mind, "I just want to be happy." And then we try to figure
out what will bring happiness and how to control away the pain. Relationships,
money, things, recognition, power, knowledge, safety, beauty, or whatever.
The problem is that there never quite seems to be enough, and on top of
it all we grow discontent. "Is this all there is?"
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What we can’t control,
we avoid—or we medicate against it with our own addictions or compulsions
which promise to make us feel better, but which never quite deliver. These
can be almost anything: shopping, sex, food, sleep, work, entertainment,
exercise, relationships, doing "good things"—the possibilities are limitless.
It’s not that most of these things are inherently bad, it’s that we use
them to avoid the pain and the deeper issues of life.
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What we can’t control
or avoid, we minimize. Sometimes we do this by
comparison with others,
or by "positive thinking", or by the latest
"self-improvement"
course. All of this makes us feel like we’re making progress.
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What we can’t control,
avoid, or minimize, we justify. We blame others, or society in general,
or God for our problems. We play the victim. It’s always someone else’s
fault.
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"I didn’t know."
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"Everybody’s doing
it."
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"And after all I’m
a pretty good person usually. I certainly didn’t deserve this!"
I love the
way we use "passive constructions" in our culture: "The telephone pole
was approaching. I was attempting to swerve out of the way when it struck
my front end."
Much worse is
the way we not only try to lessen the responsibility for sin, but we also
the way we minimize God’s holiness. Our therapeutic culture is really good
at this. We aren’t sinners anymore, but instead we are victims. And since
we are victims (of meaninglessness, or old-fashioned guilt culture, or
whatever), what we need is affirmation and support. What we need is to
get rid of the language which offends us—words like sin, holiness, guilt,
judgment, repentance, wrath, punishment, damnation.
It’s a lie to pretend
that we’re OK. The truth is, we’re broken, alienated, weak, failsome, and
ultimately separated from God. We are stuck with a crooked little heart,
and a widening gap between God and ourselves.
Listen to this
letter from a student which expresses the agony that many feel at some
points in their lives, even as believers:
"Nothing makes
any sense. I have been sitting in bed since 10:00 p.m. trying to sleep.
It is now 3:00 a.m. and I haven’t slept. I haven’t had a good night’s rest
for two weeks. My mind is frazzled. … Everyone in my small group thinks
I have such a wonderful character. But why aren’t I bearing fruit? I don’t
even want to discipline myself. My quiet times are few, far between, and
empty. I fool myself into thinking I have a strong faith, but I’m bent
by and dependent on circumstances. People are pulling me so many ways.
Mom and Dad want me to discipline my life, get a broad education, be a
good religious person, settle down and have a nice little family. People
at Church want me to follow the Lord as He calls me forth, but I don’t
have any idea what that sounds or feels like. My relatives want me to be
less provincial. They think I need to travel, to sophisticate myself, be
a man of the world. Richard Foster wants me to be a deep person, quiet
and well-disciplined, in tune with the Lord. Tom wants me to be filled
with the Holy Spirit and join an ‘alive’ Pentecostal church. … I’m tired
of making up excuses for failing when there aren’t any. I’m tired of resolving
to do better every quarter. I’m tired of making changes in schedule and
commitments, because they don’t seem to make any difference. I’m tired
of fighting myself all day. I’m tired of my mind racing uncontrollably
when I hit the sack. I’m tired of procrastinating. I’m tired of giving
up. I’m tired of all the other lukewarm, fakey Christians like me. I’m
tired of dreaming dreams about some wonderful future as a horticulturist
and minister of grace. I’m tired of battling my sexuality. I’m tired of
my wandering eyes and their painfully haunting imagery. I’m tired of the
way I escape into my sexual fantasy world when I’m anxious and pressured,
like today. I’m tired of being embarrassed to talk about my sexual orientation.…
I’m tired of feeling numb. I really don’t even care about most of these
problems. I know that God cares, but I don’t even care enough about Him
tonight to respond to Him. I’m tired of the way all my sentences start
with ‘I’." [Stuart Davidson, 1982. Stuart died of
AIDS in 1997, but during the last years of his life found what he was looking
for—God himself.]
Face it brothers
and sisters. We are well acquainted with the patterns of sin.
Do you recognize
any of these?
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Idolatry—looking
for meaning, security, identity everywhere but in God: job, house, friends,
bank account, even theology.
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Gossip—playing the
one up game to promote self by what you know.
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Inappropriate motivations,
even in ministry: guilt, ambition, voyeurism, power.
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Vanity, self-centeredness,
drive for recognition.
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Lying, exaggeration,
deceit.
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Envy, jealousy,
mean spirit, anger, hatred, unforgiving attitude, bitterness.
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Critical spirit,
judgmentalism.
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Gluttony—feeding
the vacuums of life with food, consumption of things, obsessions, and addictions.
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Vain ambition, arrogance,
egotism, pride about my accomplishments or ways of doing things.
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Having no boundaries
or wrong boundaries in my relationship to others.
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Sexual immorality—problems
of the mind, of behavior, of habit.
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Hypocrisy.
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Laziness.
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Greed, permanent
discontent, perfectionism.
And this partial
list doesn’t even include the sins of omission—the things to which God
calls us as agents of his love and stewards of his purposes—that we have
neglected. Micah 6:8 "He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what
does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?"
Until we realize
how dead we are—and how much we are fooling ourselves into thinking we’re
OK—we cannot begin to appreciate what God has done for us.
Even Paul moaned:
"But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can’t keep
it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions,
I obviously need help! I realize that I don’t have what it takes. I can
will it, but I can’t do it. I decide to do good, but I don’t really do
it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such
as they are, don’t result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within
me and gets the better of me every time. It happens so regularly that it’s
predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up.
I truly delight in God’s commands, but it’s pretty obvious that not all
of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when
I least expect it, they take charge. I’ve tried everything and nothing
helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for
me? Isn’t that the real question?" [Romans 7.15-24, The Message]
Real question indeed.
Humanity has a major crisis here. We have a crisis. And despite thousands
of years of human history and attempts to solve the crisis—despite millions
of other trees from which we have picked thinking that finally the yearning
for completeness will go away—there is apparently nothing we can do to
fix it. Those wise enough over the centuries to see the truth have done
the only thing possible. They have quite pretending to be good, and they
have thrown themselves on the mercy of God.
Garrison Keillor
has said: "I’ve heard a lot of sermons in the past ten years or so that
made me want to get up and walk out. They’re secular, psychological, self-help
sermons. Friendly, but of no use. They didn’t make you straighten up. They
didn’t give you anything hard. … At some point and in some way, a sermon
has to direct people toward the death of Christ and the campaign that God
has waged over the centuries to get our attention."
We are coming
to the cross—but not before we know where we’re coming from.
Dr. Stephen A.
Hayner © 1998, InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. All rights reserved.
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