Lost time, lost space

The first creation account (Genesis 1:1-2:3) is obviously structured around the seven-day week, and that gives it the theme of time.  The goal of creation in this account is the seventh day, the day of rest.  God rests from his completed task of creation; humanity, by implication, rests with him.  The seventh day is sanctified: the Sabbath.

The second creation account (Genesis 2:4-25) is geographically structured, and consequently we can reasonably say that the theme of the account is space.  The goal of creation in this account is the garden-sanctuary of Eden, the place where humanity is to dwell in God's presence.  The Lord walks in the garden which Adam keeps and guards.

Time and space - and concretely that means this particular day or hour and this particular location - are seen in these two accounts as gifts of grace.  And by 'grace' here we mean grace in all its fullness: which is to say, time and place are given so that in them relationship with God can be given.

And yet for us time and space are experienced as frustrations and limitations.  Time slips away too quickly, and we feel that something of ourselves slip away with it.  "The past tempts us, the present confuses us, and the future frightens us.  And our lives slip away, moment by moment, lost in that vast, terrible in-between."  Or then again, time drags, and we wonder how it can be so vast and empty.  Meanwhile, we find ourselves in one place wishing we were in another, staring at our screens as if they could transport us to the places they show.  People we love are scattered around the world.  We all have cars, which means we can go places, but instead of liberation that creates a new network of responsibilities: we really must visit so and so and get to such and such a place this year.  We find ourselves bewildered and rootless.  We want to belong to a place, but we don't want to be tied down.

In Deuteronomy, Moses describes the curses that will come upon the people of Israel if they are faithless and betray God's covenant.  It is striking to me that those curses include these verses:

“And the Lord will scatter you among all peoples, from one end of the earth to the other, and there you shall serve other gods of wood and stone, which neither you nor your fathers have known.  And among these nations you shall find no respite, and there shall be no resting-place for the sole of your foot, but the Lord will give you there a trembling heart and failing eyes and a languishing soul.  Your life shall hang in doubt before you. Night and day you shall be in dread and have no assurance of your life.  In the morning you shall say, ‘If only it were evening!’ and at evening you shall say, ‘If only it were morning!’ because of the dread that your heart shall feel, and the sights that your eyes shall see.

Space as a curse - the land of other nations, with not so much as a place to put down your foot.  Time as a curse - longing for night during the day, and for morning in the night.  What Moses is describing here is just life, fallen life.  Life outside Eden.

Until the redemption of creation, this is going to be our experience.  But I have been thinking about what we might do, as Christian communities, to find time and space as a source of blessing again.  Sabbath, of course, whatever that might look like for us.  (Can I suggest that it needs to be communal if it's to be anything - which is naturally difficult in a world which never stops.  We will need strong church cultures of rest here).  And perhaps a commitment to be present, to be here.  Did it ever occur to you that the biggest encouragement you can be to Christian brothers and sisters on a Sunday is just turning up to church?  Being there matters.

One day our time will be caught up into God's time, and our space will be sanctified again by God's direct presence.  Until then, we can enjoy God's good provision best by living as witnesses to the fact that in Christ this is already so.

Unbelief in Eden

We see two-stage unbelief in Eden.

First, Adam and Eve do not believe that God intends to be good to them, and therefore they suspect that his commands are actually restrictive rather than liberating.  The result of this first stage of unbelief is disobedience, and it is inexcusable.  They should have known from the fact of their creation that God is good, always good.

Second, Adam and Eve do not believe that God will sustain them and all his creation in the face of their sin, and therefore they doubt whether he will show them mercy.  The result of this second stage of unbelief is hiding from God, and this too is inexcusable.  They should have known from the fact of their creation that God is committed to upholding his creatures in the face of the chaos and darkness that threatens them.

I sometimes wonder whether we could truly talk of fallen human beings if there were not this second stage; might they not have been just stumbling human beings, recovered by grace?

Corresponding to this, 1 John 2 counters both stages of unbelief in the Christian:

My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.

 Believe that God is good and don't sin; if you sin, believe that God is good and don't hide!

The man and the tree

So, there they were: the man and the tree, right in the middle. The tree had its companion, and the man had his, but right now they weren't in the picture. This man, and this tree - right in the middle, surrounded by captivating beauty from which they both seemed sharply removed. Because this was the moment of decision. There was nothing in the world but this man and this tree.

Stop, Adam! Don't you remember? Don't you recall what the Lord has done for you? For your sake he split apart the darkness, ripped the seas in two. For your sake he spoke order into the chaos and made grace into solid earth for your feet. Every plant he made for you, every tree he gave to you - but not this tree, Adam. Stop!

And the man stopped, but not to turn away. His eyes were still fascinated, and wisdom hitherto unknown entranced him. He walked, slowly, around the tree, his eyes never leaving the promised and forbidden fruit that hung there. He walked, in a perfect circle, as if there were some invisible line around the foot of this tree, a line which held him - as if he could not walk nearer, and could not turn away.

Turn, Adam! Look around you. Look at the garden the Lord has planted for you. Everything you need is there. He has made beauty, and given it to you. He has given you purpose and meaning and all that you could desire. Every plant is yours. Every animal bears the name you gave it. Look around you, Adam, and forget this one thing that you cannot have!

And he turned, but only his head. He looked about him, as if for the first time he wondered if he was being watched, monitored. But he saw only trees, leaves moving gently in the breeze, and turning back his attention to the tree, the one tree around which for that moment his world revolved, he paused, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

Beware, Adam! Remember how precarious is your position. You live by grace, and life itself hangs in the balance. The waters are gathered above this fragile earth, held back only by the will of the Lord - the Lord whose will you are questioning, whose command you are doubting. Can you bear the death he promises? Can creation itself survive the chaos that you are about to release? Think, Adam - death, destruction and deluge ! Think, and turn back!

The man reached out his hand toward the tree, still standing back as if in awe, stretching for the fruit that weighed down the low branches.

Oh, Adam.

You did just what I would have done.