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.”
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