Love & Genealogies

This morning, I woke up with a plan to write about the creativity of God—about how He has the most dynamic landscape of a mind, and how we are reaching for its beauty in every creative, artistic movement we make. I thrive on Genesis because I am reminded of this grand idea of God as an artist: God who painted the skies and engineered the human body. Genesis also gives me a picture of creation beyond humans, as I am reminded of God’s love for all of the creation and the blessing he gives to the animals as well, as he commissions us to care for them—invites us to be creators and shepherds like Him. These are my favorite things to dream about as I read the first book of the Bible.

But something completely unexpected came up this morning when I opened my Bible to read: 

"and if I have faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.” (1 Corinthians 13:2 )

I write a lot about faith, and I talk a lot about it too—but Burt Baccarat said that what the world needs is love, not faith. To be more relevant, the scripture above ends with the lovely exclamation that the “greatest of these is: faith, hope, and love,” so surely they are all important. It’s just that love seems to matter more. Jesus told the Pharisees that the greatest commandments were to love your neighbor as yourself and to love the Lord God with all your heart, soul, and mind. I feel pretty convinced, at this point, that I cannot write off love as an overly talked about subject to be avoided, or something “already covered.”

However, I assume that everyone knows about Jesus’ teachings regarding love, and the many famous—often shared at weddings—scriptures that the authors of the Bible penned. This is surely why so many people can love Jesus, even if they have no desire to know Him. But when we read Genesis, where is the love? Can we find it within Adam, Eve, Cain, Abel, or the cursing God? Richard Dawkins claims that the God of the Old Testament is a significantly different, darker God than the hippie Jesus, who may or may not be your homeboy.

It’s true that the first book of the Bible lacks glitz and glam, at times—it’s not the parables, the Sermon on the Mount, or the intense writings of Paul the thinker. And yet, I found something in the least likely of places. As I was reading the genealogies, I found love. Yes, I said genealogies. And what is sweet to me is that these are the parts of the Bible that so often challenge me most in my quest to “finish” the Bible, as I read through them with guilt for wasting my time (hold that thought).

After Cain kills Abel out of envy, Abel’s blood cries out from the ground while Cain lies to the Father about what he has done. God looks upon Cain with tremendous grief—His creation has put to death His creation. The wonder of all that He made, and “it was good”, has collapsed. Cain has killed both his own brother and a part of himself as well, and God must withdraw His presence. But as He does, He marks Cain for Cain’s protection—and to protect God’s other children who might kill Cain and suffer seven times over what Cain has suffered.

The story of Cain is rich. My heart aches as I imagine what God must have felt. How easy it is to see the punishment without looking deeper into the heart of God, and I can’t help but wonder about His heart above all things. I wonder if we often overlook the challenge that the Father has to protect so many of us from things we cannot understand. We think vengeance feels good, and He knows it does not. We think we understand the means to the end justice, but we do not. We have a fractured, imperfect, dangerously flawed understanding of all that we acquired with the fruit of the tree. We think that because God sewed us garments in the garden after we realized we were “naked” that we are suddenly equipped, prepared for all that has come as a consequence of that moment in time. Despite our greatest efforts to muster up courage and wisdom, we can be rather pitiful at times. Yet, love is patient, love is kind… it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs… it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres… Love never fails.

The story of Cain ends, and Adam’s family line begins. I start to feel as if there are other things I should be doing, but then I remember what I wrote about yesterday, and I can feel God sitting with me. The Bible now seems more like a family album. Each name excites the heart of God in a unique way; everything He loves about them rushes to mind, and I can feel that He wants to tell me their stories, or to tell me how He made them and who they are. I imagine that He doesn’t look at me, but at the pages—reminiscing, loving. This is our family. These are His children. My brothers and sisters. I am to love them. My heart feels full as I start to understand, more clearly, how the creator delights in those He has made, each and every one. He is not like me. He does not wander among gravestones in a cemetery with little curiosity for the lives represented. He is burdened as the Father of all, and for each, He gives all of His time and all of His notice. He does not have “better things to do.”