If Adam and Eve hadn't blown it...
This week we got a sweet letter from a long-time friend, a real, hand-written letter with a marvelous hand-made card—she does watercolor! One of the things Chris said has stayed with me.
I think of heaven often, no pain, no tears, and most of all no sin. It’s hard to imagine a bunch of perfect people all together at once, but I love the thought of it.
It gives me pause. We think gladly of no pain and no tears, but…what would no sin look like? No sin in heaven? I have a difficult time conceptualizing heaven, so my brain jumped over to thinking about no sin on earth. What would not-fallen look like on earth, the original Eden state?
I know, there would be no murder or theft or deceit—none of the detestable evils that everyone recognizes as contrary to the foundation of decent human civilization. But one of my regular, go-to-bed-but-don’t-sleep episodes took me off to a stranger place which Chris’s comment framed quite strikingly for me.
My sleeplessness became rumination over my limitations, by which I mean the fact that I can focus on few things at once. Since high school, I have lamented that I can write voluminously or pursue God deeply, but not both at the same time. It took many years for me to finally just accept that, and I continue to feel out the balance in my seasons: my writing goes well and I can produce on a certain level for several months, but the time I spend with the Lord is shorter and not as absorbing. Then I realize that I’m parched for a soaking in the presence of God, and when I turn a greater daily focus in His direction and my spirit begins to expand, the content of my keyboard time comes out less coherent, pulls together harder, takes more work to polish. It’s a set quantity of spiritual energy that I have to expend on either activity, and when it’s spent, it’s spent.
Then I consider all the other activities that fill the week. I can concentrate on a few imperative activities at once and everything else slides to the not-so-much end of the productivity scale. Keep a clean house. Cook well for my husband and myself. Creative playtime and personal reading. Client work (which, strangely enough and to my vast relief, does not seem to fall much into the critical divide I struggle with in the paragraph above—it’s just toil for an end). Schedule and attend a ridiculous number of medical appointments. Pack the house to move.
I just can’t do it all. Even when I have the time. Not that I ever wanted to do it all. I can’t do it all well. Like I feel like I should be able to much of the time, until I realize that I’ve been running and running and packing the house and I have no idea what the newsletter will look like on Thursday and I wonder why I’m willing to let John eat an egg sandwich for dinner. For the second time this week. (Bless his undemanding heart!) At least John and I have all that driving and appointment waiting time together, so the two of us are not losing out in our connection.
I feel like I should be able to do more. But at this stage in the game, I know that if I cram any more in, everything will suffer. So I pick my priorities and thank God that Proverbs 31 is not a list of what the woman gets done every day, rather it’s a lineup of things she’s done well over time, majoring on her character and fear of the Lord.
And so—seasons.
This move will get accomplished and I’ll start cooking again. I’m famished for a long stretch of dedicated Bible study. That one client—whose work I love but who has a most aggravating habit of disappearing—may or may not get a quote for his workshop documents and third and fourth books. I’d been going to start another #100DayProject—probably still will. Look for bugs instead of flowers this time.
What does this have to do with no sin in heaven?
Not a thing. It’s just where I ended up while wondering how the original model functioned. If Adam and Eve hadn’t blown it, how would our daily efforts go here on earth?
I half think it a moot point. If Adam and Eve hadn’t fallen for that be like God line, we wouldn’t be conscious of how good our fellowship with God is because we had nothing else to compare it with. The connection wasn’t broken, so we couldn’t experience how hard it is to create or maintain that singular connection.
But they did, so here we are.
Please indulge me for a moment. Imagine the delight of conversation with God—we could discern His interactions with us without any doubt. Our cognizance of His presence would never fade—we’d never have to cope with acute awareness of His absence.
We’d have no concept of anything not-of-God. Would we even wonder what not-of-God would be like? You and I would not be plagued by doubts about God, fear of loss or punishment, the devastation of knowing we don’t measure up.
God’s reality would be our reality—we’d understand how things really are. Maybe we’d have differences over things like whether the mountains in the distance are purple or gray, but we wouldn’t be cancelling each other with politically correct rhetoric or dividing ourselves into groups over issues of survival or superiority.
Our bodies wouldn’t malfunction. The pleasures of God’s table would be good and good for us and we could get up and play football after without fear of twisted knees and whopping bruises.
We could study quantum physics and discover the astonishing things God has woven into the universe without the mistakes and wrong guesses and head-banging frustrations. Or take up painting, and produce absolutely beautiful things. Or, no, we’d have to study and learn to master skills and pools of knowledge. We’d have to flex and develop our brain muscle in order to best appreciate the wonders that are God’s creation. But the learning curve would be so much easier. Our focus and retention would be unscattered. Missing the goal would not be a source of shame so much as an invitation to try again, accompanied by much laughter.
Our days would be rich and full of meaningful activity. Rest would be well-timed and beneficial, undisturbed by any uneasiness.
Imagine: unfallen perfection, sinlessness. I can’t, easily, for very long.
Yes, I would be glad of less struggle. John would greatly appreciate less daily pain. Some of you are carrying burdens I’m not sure I could stand under with as much grace and hope. There is terrible, unrelenting evil in the world, in our backyards and on our television screens, which we can’t get away from.
But to boil it down to a very small scope for just a moment, my little world, I’ve come to terms with the rhythms of my life, the striving and gain and loss and rest. I’ve discovered a bit about how to let God into the midst of it all so that He may shed His grace and make His peace, bring me to my center in Him.
So that the work and the balance is not arbitrary or useless expenditure. So that light shines just as well in the moments of imperfect plodding as it does in the rarer moments of effortless completion.
In a few months I’ll have forgotten the strangeness of these weeks of packing and transition. I’ll be headlong into studying something, maybe finally writing that book I know I need to write. John and I will be figuring out new routines in our new spaces, feeling out relationships with new neighbors. In time, new frustrations and devastations, turnings and triumphs will come and go.
I know that you and I, though we are subject to brokenness on this side, are made alive by His Spirit. Our Godward efforts are not wasted in God’s economy, and the kingdom is built one day at a time through each life that He has redeemed.
While we wait for the truly unimaginable, I pray that you, too, find such confirmation in your seasons.
What season do you find yourself in? What are its particular struggles? It’s blessings? Please share if you’d like.
Toward the promise,
Lana
Some resources, if you’re interested
This week, I found 5 Ways Christians are Getting Swept into a Secular Worldview in This Cultural Moment, and all sorts of links inside it. I will be browsing Neil Shenvi’s resources around Critical Race Theory and the Evangelical church, praying to understand both others and my own faith more concretely.
Little Girl is getting interested in moving. The piled up boxes and relocating furniture has created her own personal playground to explore. In the meantime, she still demands her lap time, and gets disgusted with having to share the space with my lap desk.
Eventually, she gives up and does what she can to get comfy. Such a hard life.
Through the Bible in a Year Reading Plan and Challenge
I’m still behind, just gotta be OK with it. How about you? If you’re on track, GO YOU! If you’re in my camp—don’t despair! We’ll catch up!
The stories around David and Saul are a rich juxtaposition of a man after God’s own heart against a man who wanted to do it God’s way but liked his own way just a little bit more—and all the drama that played out. Pride? Lack of trusting God? The consequences play out widely and deeply.
Sunday, April 25 Catch up and reflect
Monday, April 26 1 Samuel 26-28, Luke 17:1-19
Tuesday, April 27 1 Samuel 29-31 Luke 17:20-37
Wednesday, April 28 2 Samuel 1-3, Luke 18:1-17
Thursday, April 29 2 Samuel 4-6, Luke 18:18-43
Friday, April 30 2 Samuel 7-9, Luke 19:1-28
Saturday, May 1 2 Samuel 10-14, Luke 19:29 - 20:26
Question for this week’s reading: Speaking of pride, what Calebite led to David nearly committing a rash and vengeful act that would have severely damaged his potential king credibility?
Here’s the link to last week’s issue Updates and spiders
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