Read Genesis 2:8-17 | Full Chapter
God makes a home for man, that is, the dust-figure. The sort of home he makes for man is a garden, which he names Eden (or, at least, that’s what we’ve decided he might have named it). The garden is full of trees and watered by a river which then divides into four rivers, including the Tigris and Euphrates–at least thus sayeth the translation. And, as it turns out, that’s nearly all this passage has to say about Eden. I can suppose that is quite beautiful and lush, filled with all sorts of vegetation and animals, despite, from my limited geographical reckoning, being in what is now a desert. Go figure.
What he places in this garden of particular importance are two special trees:
I would guess that these are symbolic in nature. That is, the fruit of either tree is not particularly special, but by naming the trees as he does God sets them up to have meaning. The tree of life is only named in this chapter; it is not really discussed. However, in addition to God setting up a labor for man, to cultivate the garden, God instructs man not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
Romans 5:20 says "”The Law came in so that the transgression would increase; but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more.”" (Romans 5:20, NASB) This is the first example of the Law. Because humanity, in my guess, wishes to be as God, wherever there is Law, we will try to break it as a statement of our own godhood. This fits with God’s plan because then he can offer us grace and if we humble ourselves and accept his grace, we can develop a relationship with him not disturbed by our trying to attain equal or greater status to him. And having committed one sin–that of taking of the fruit–humanity realizes this way of attaining a pretense at godhood and will now continue to do so, until we receive God’s grace and he has perfected us.
In other words, everything is beautiful and good for humanity but we desire to be as God and so the one thing forbidden is the one we will take to prove our power. Only in doing so, we reveal to ourselves our sin and separate ourselves from God. Could God somehow have sidestepped all the resulting havoc and heartache? I don’t think so, if we are really to be the bride of Christ. But it is sad to realize how much pain we put him through because of our pride.
Read Genesis 3:6-13 | Full Chapter
When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable to make one wise, she took from its fruit and ate; and she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings.
(Genesis 3:6-7, NASB)
The woman, convinced by the serpent’s Harvard-level education (har har), takes from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and eats. She then gives some of the fruit to her husband, who also eats of it. Beyond the fruit’s looking good and tasty, the humans’ main reason for eating of it appears to be that is desirable to make one wise (or maybe the main reason is that they haven’t eaten from it.) And boy do they get wisdom. The knowledge comes flooding in. The realize…wait for it…they’re naked!
Stars and garters, what will we do?
What they do is cover themselves with fig leaves and hide from Jehovah. Jehovah calls out to them, the man answers, stating he hid himself because of his nakedness, leading Jehovah to ask if they ate of tree of knowledge, and Adam, setting a precedence that lives on today, promptly blames the whole thing on his wife. Eve, sensing a conspiracy afoot, blames the serpent. The humans display a process of sin, but do one thing pretty unique, aside from it being the apparent first human sin. In this process, they sin, leading to shame (evidenced by their concentration on their physical nakedness), and then they try to justify their sin. The odd thing is that they’re actually pretty open about this to God.
The sin itself is the eating of the tree from which God commanded them not to eat. It is important to note that eating from a tree is not something we see as inherently bad, despite many Christians’ desire to prove that sin is bad for society–or at least “the children”. The sin is disobedience of God, regardless of whether the humans understood why God had so commanded. They disobeyed God, and in doing so, their eyes–as are all of ours–were opened to a world where they could challenge God and disobey him. This must have brought tons of images to their minds, all of which would have made their daily walk with Jehovah a bit uncomfortable, for now they could think of him as an adversary.
They are apparently ashamed by these thoughts, and hide themselves from God. The man and woman focus on their physical nakedness, both hiding behind trees and covering their loins (a word which could, I suppose, be used outside the context of clothing–though I can’t think that I’ve ever heard it used as such) with fig leaves. This is a pretty spectacular display, considering they’ve not seen clothing (unless Jehovah wore some). I can only suppose they are comparing themselves to the furry animals, and the level of their shame is such to compel them to find any sort of covering up they can. The fact that they have something to hide testifies to their sin. It is the woman and man who, having sinned, actively separate themselves from God. This is the essence, to me, of shame: We realize that we have done something that ought to offend another and actively separate ourselves from that relationship.
The humans, when questioned by God, admit to the sin, but do not take ownership of it. I do acknowledge their immediate confession, which I believe is the result of their having walked regularly with God. When we are in close relationship with God, we tend to be much quicker to admit the truth to him, knowing both that he is already aware and that he is kind and loving–perhaps best said: we are more comfortable with him. However, they also pass the blame. To say I did that action is one step, but it must, in the case of sin, be followed with the admittance that the action was a sin on my part. Adam and Eve, rather, pass the buck. And, so, sin enters into this world.
Read Genesis 4:3-17 | Full Chapter
This is your life. Day in day out, you’re working the land, tilling the ground, a farmer making a living off cursed soil. You’re good at it though, and your folks work with you some. Your brother’s a good guy, too. He takes care of the flock. It’s hard work for you both, but you’ve got good vegetables, good meat, clothing on your backs.
Your parents tell you about the God who used to walk with them. You believe them, seeing as how they and your brother are the only sentient beings around, but those times are passed. Your parents screwed up, you pay for it. Now you get to see them fight, you’ve been hurt by their harsh words, but you can tell they want back with God, they want life again. What you have, they tell you sometimes, isn’t life. When you hear God speak, that’s good, but it’s not, they say, what they had. They tell you and your brother to make sacrifices to this God. Maybe, someday…
Abel, he’s your younger brother, brings the first born of his flock, and God accepts that sacrifice. You bring the sweat of your back, the vegetables and fruits you’ve grown. Maybe the difference is you weren’t specific about bringing the first fruits, maybe God has a thing for blood. Whatever the reason, God didn’t accept your sacrifice. This was your work. What does Abel do anyway, just watch the sheep and cattle, make sure they don’t do anything stupid? You work hard, provide for your family, these people God created and then cast out of his magic fairy-land garden! And, what, your sacrifice is not good enough! So, yeah, you’re super pissed. And God has the nerve to ask why.
He tells you, "If you do well, will not your countenance be lifted up? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door; and its desire is for you, but you must master it" (Genesis 4:7, NASB) . You try a little. You tell what happened to Abel, but that just makes you angrier. Abel, what is he to you? And so, you let it, you let the sin in. You let it master you. And you kill your brother in your anger.
Your sin, suddenly, seems greater than your parents. You try to deceive God when he asks after your brother. He casts you out, to be a traveller. Your hard work will produce barely enough for you. And you cry out "My punishment is too great to bear" (Genesis 4:13) ! And God has mercy on you. Though the curse is not removed, he provides you grace, that you will not be slain. And you wander and settle many years later. You have a family. You have sinned greatly, but so much greater has been God’s mercy on you.
Cain sinned. He sinned in thinking his sacrifice should be worthy before God. He was too proud to replace his rejected sacrifice with a pleasing one, and instead chose to be angry with his brother, to the point of murdering Abel. He then went so far as to try to deceive God directly. That’s sin, that’s what’s in all of us. We talk a lot about God’s grace through Christ, but God’s grace has always existed. Cain deserved to die, but God granted him mercy. And Jehovah’s grace can always be included in the story of a sin.
And law came in, that the offence might abound, and where the sin did abound, the grace did overabound, that even as the sin did reign in the death, so also the grace may reign, through righteousness, to life age-during, through Jesus Christ our Lord
(Romans 5:20-21, Young)
That’s the lesson I take from Cain’s, the ease with which we are deceived into sin. And how much easier it is to accept God’s grace. Well, easier, when we recognize our sin and are humble before the Lord.
Read Genesis 21:9-10 | Full Chapter
But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, laughing. So she said to Abraham, “Cast out this slave woman with her son, for the son of this slave woman shall not be heir with my son Isaac.”
(Genesis 21:9-10, ESV)
Sarah is in a class with David. For the most part, seems pretty righteous, pretty holy. But with respect to one situation, a punk. I mean, Sarah refrains from actually murdering anyone, but the kind of treating people terribly because of emotions is consistent with these two, and, well, a good half or more of everyone who’s ever tried to be righteous.
For Sarah, Ishmael is a reminder of a foolish and probably sinful decision she made. Tangent: I’ve probably said this before, I’ll say it again: every last one of us humans, including Jesus Christ–can chase the line to our birth back to a sin. Every one of us. If 1) that bothers you, or 2) that makes you think you can judge others whose “ancestral sin” is more identifiable, you need to read the Bible. And, in the second case, be beaten with Texas lawyer’s truck. Ishmael is not punished for Sarah’s decision, except in this case by Sarah herself and his father. And although Yahweh doesn’t give Ishmael the full Isaac blessing, Yahweh does indeed bless Ishmael, quite a bit more than the average nomad of those days.
Anyway, returning from that foray, Ishmael and Hagar’s presence reminds Sarah that her faith in God lapsed and she tried to take matters into her own hands. Well, that’s my guess, actually. I really don’t have any Biblical reason to back that up. Sarah also is jealous of Ishmael’s place as first-born instead of her son, Isaac.
David could have fessed up to Uriah. Sarah could have tried to make this family work. I say could have in the sense of “I can’t imagine how”. Because the sin that results in Sarah turning against her slave and the child she (Sarah) had desired, the sin that resulted in Uriah being murdered, occurred way before. Before even Hagar or Bathsheba came into the pictures. Yeah, at any point either Sarah or David could have changed things, but doing so becomes exponentially more difficult with each step.
And so Sarah finds herself telling Abraham to send away the woman who has been so faithful to her (by any accounts I’ve read) and the child she had so wanted.
It’s not about obsessing over what possible butterfly effects your each action could have. It’s about being obedient to Jehovah, about making decisions about the lines in your life and trying hard not to cross them and every time you realize you have, flying back across. Easy to say. Incredibly difficult to practice. I love about God’s grace that he allows me to keep trying to obey him better.
Read Genesis 20:1-2 | Full Chapter
Now Abraham journeyed from there toward the land of the Negev, and settled between Kadesh and Shur; then he sojourned in Gerar. Abraham said of Sarah his wife, “She is my sister.” So Abimelech king of Gerar sent and took Sarah.
(Genesis 20:1-2, NASB)
Assuming this chapter falls in order chronologically with the chapters near to it, Sarah is about ninety years old. (Her son, Isaac, is born in chapter 21; in chapter 18, God promised Isaac’s birth in a year’s time. In Genesis 17:17, Abraham states that Sarah is–or is about to be–ninety years old.) Which makes it sort of a surprise that Abraham feels the need to pretend she’s his sister, at least so far as keeping anyone from killing him over her. I mean, guys who kill for other men’s wives tend to go for the under eighty crowd, right? I do realize that there are at least some cultural differences here about which I know nothing.
This is not the first time Abraham and Sarah have gotten themselves into this situation. This story is very repetitious of Genesis 12:11-20, in which Abram and Sarai go to Egypt. One way or another, Jehovah does bring good out of these little ploys. I wonder whether he deliberately led Abram to make these–in my opinion, foolish–decisions in order to enable Abraham and Sarah’s opportunities to share about Jehovah’s power and righteousness.
Abimelech, king of Gerar, “[takes] Sarah,” whatever that means. I assume it means he has forced her to be a concubine. It’s not terribly clear to me from the OT what God thinks about polygamy, but from what I know of Jehovah, anything that amounts to sex slavery is sinful. So, when I title this article “Sins that are Known”, I’m meaning to differentiate Abimelech’s apparent habit of taking foreign women to satisfy his lusts for sex and/or power–a known sin–from the sin in ignorance, being that he doesn’t know that one of these women is also married. While I don’t expect Abimelech to have known the Law given to Moses–Moses being, as it were, not yet born–if he is unaware of the immorality in his taking of Sarah, it can only be because he habitually treats other people–probably particularly women–as property.
The sin that he does not know is that were he to actually have sex with Sarah, he would be additionally committing adultery. Jehovah, in my opinion, does not owe Abimelech the chance to correct this sin in ignorance, due to his many premeditated sins. In fact, the more I think about this guy and his harem whence he immediately sends a woman who catches his fancy, the more I am quite amazed by God’s reaction to this situation. Like me, he concludes that this man deserves death. Of course, in his righteousness, he has a moral right to conclude this, whereas I am just expressing my opinions, and doing so warily, aware of my own disobedience. Unlike my inclination, Jehovah warns Abimelech. Jehovah is always doing this. Basically, his modus operandi in regards to sin often runs:
So, here we have a man who habitually sins, to whom God is going to use the sin he doesn’t know to correct him. My next entry I want to focus on that issue of unknown sins, considering in particular how Yahweh addresses that sin in Abimelech’s case. But I want to make clear, before I look there, that while we probably all have committed sins without realizing it was a sin, I don’t believe that anyone of sound mind over the age of about ten has not committed sins knowingly. I don’t want to hide myself in “I didn’t know” excuses, but rather realize that I am a sinner and that I need the grace of God.
Which, I am glad to say, He is glad to give.