It’s very easy to blame—this may be one of the few universal characteristics of humans that everyone would agree with. It’s natural and unlearned. There is no child that has to learn to blame or shift blame when something goes wrong. It’s not all that different with adults.

And Jehovah God took the man and put him into the garden of Eden, to work it and to keep it. And Jehovah God commanded the man, saying, “You may freely eat of every tree in the garden; but of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil you may not eat, for in the day that you eat of it, you shall surely die.” (Genesis 2:15-17, a literal translation)

(I should note that this pass through the Bible I’m using an old interlinear version that I’ve had for a very long time. It provides a ‘literal’ English translation to the original languages.)

Genesis is one of my favorite books. It’s a narrative of the basic human condition and experience, with stories of people that can seem strange and distant at first, but become familiar reflections of myself. It’s also a meta-expression of purpose and meaning behind existence and life. I mean, why are we here?

Genesis is also this rabbit hole of insight and answers wrapped in more questions.

Did all animals talk?
Why were both trees placed next to each other?
What about the people outside the garden?

I used to wonder what if Adam and Eve had not taken and eaten the fruit. What would have been the following scenes? For a long time I viewed it as a first in a series of inevitable falls: given enough time and opportunities, they would’ve eventually fallen away. It’s less about the instance of how they turned from God, but more so that we are surrounded with plenty of opportunities to decide to do what is good in our own eyes. There are always snakes in gardens.

God comes walking in the garden looking for His humans that are hiding from Him in nakedness and shame.

I’ve been meditating on this part for a while. It’s so strange and so familiar, reading fantastically, and equally, so accurately. The couple talk with a serpent and decide for themselves that God is not for them. After all is said and done, after God comes looking for them, after their shame and guilt have literally transformed them, He asks them a basic yes-or-no question.

It could be a universal experience for any parent that has told their little child not to eat any cookies before dinner, and after they do sneak one and eat it, the question comes, “Did you eat a cookie?”

(In TV shows they’d usually show a close shot of the kid’s face with a crumb near the mouth or something…)

We can imagine all of the possible responses that come out. For me, the answers varied from lying to blaming to shifting. “Yes. I’m sorry,” for some reason was never the one I wanted to go with.

“Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?”

The man blames the woman, and he blames God.
The woman blames the serpent.

It’s interesting that God doesn’t even bother asking the serpent but just pronounces the consequences of its actions. Also, neither the man nor the woman tries to lie—they know that something wrong has happened, but the important thing for them is that it’s not their wrong.

It was the same in Revelation. It’s the same story today. Without Jesus, it’s the only way we know how to navigate life, a life of brokenness and blame. As I reflect on that, the weight of the grace I’ve been shown is sobering. When I run and hide and even lash out all around me, God comes looking for me to remind me of His love and goodness that never waver for me.

Thank you, Jesus.