What was the Point of That Stupid Tree?

Like most people who grew up with the story of Adam and Eve, I always assumed the whole point of having the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (often shortened foolishly to The Tree of Knowledge, but I'll just call it The Tree herein) was to test Adam and Eve, to see if they were worthy or something. They failed. Flunked the test. They thus deserved punishment, and doomed us all.

That never made a lot of sense to me. If God cared enough to create us, why would he set us up for failure? If God is a God of love, why was he out to punish us? If God is omniscient (if he really knows it all) why would he need to test us?

Over the years, I've gotten a number of unsatisfactory answers from both Christians ("you'll understand when you get to Heaven" or "God just wanted to test us"-- simply turning my question into a statement, a total non-answer) and from non-Christians ("See? I told you he was rotten" or "He was jealous, just like the snake said!") None of those jived with what I read of God in the Bible or with my experience.

Recently it's all started to make sense, especially as I realized how many of my assumptions and things I'd been taught about the Bible were wrong. It's a matter of viewpoint, of perspective-- if you look at it wrong, it looks like something other than what it is.

I think the plan all along was to teach us about Good and Evil. But we would have learned it directly from God, our Creator, our Lover. God would have taught it gradually, in ways that would have benefited us, as we grew in our understanding, knowledge, wisdom, and even power[1] and glory[2][3].

The test had several facets, but not, I believe, the ones we usually attribute it. It was a test for Adam and Eve, but in the sense that they were being given a chance to prove to themselves and all of creation they were worthy of God's favor, worthy to rule. It was a chance to prove themselves wiser than Satan. As we know, they failed.

It was a proof that God gave free will. Despite what Lucifer had done, God was still willing to create and love and trust.

Finally, I used to wonder how God expected Adam and Eve to pass up The Tree. But over time it hit me that the Garden of Eden wasn't a garden in the sense that a child in an El Paso, TX suburb on the edge of the desert thinks of a garden. It wasn't some small thing with just a few trees, or even a few hundred. Eden's garden undoubtedly made the most fabled man-made gardens, such as Versailles, Central Park, Mirabel, Babylon, or Kensington look like the small flower beds in our back yard in El Paso.

I don't know what The Tree looked like, but even if it was amazing, Eden had to be chock full of amazing. We live in a fallen world. As beautiful as things can be now, I have to believe that they pale compared to the plants in Eden. And there's nothing in the Bible to indicate The Tree was far more beautiful or enticing than any other tree or fruit. In fact, it sounds as if Eve didn't notice it that much until Lucifer worked on her a while. "When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it." (Gen 3/8)

So, they had a single tree out of thousands, perhaps millions, with a fence (physical or metaphorical) around it. It wasn't a case of having to avoid something that dominated the landscape and their every waking minute. It was a case of having all of a huge thing with one tiny restriction, and refusing to accept even that one restriction. By that act of rebellion they gained what they thought they desired-- what God would surely have given them, anyway-- and lost everything.

Finally, for those still fuming over a loving God dooming us all because of one or two peoples' actions, don't forget that through Christ[4] everything is made new, and that our inheritance is restored.[5] To my great joy, I have come to find that inheritance includes God walking with me, talking with me, loving, teaching, growing, nurturing me as he did Adam and Eve. By rejecting the fruit of The Tree, by accepting the gift of grace, by being filled with his spirit, I have a deep relationship with God, growing every day in the knowledge of good and evil, and so much more.



[1] Jn 3/35, Mt 28/28-20, Mt 10/8, Acts 1/8
[2] Jn 17/22
[3] We are, after all, made in God's image. (Gen 1/26)
[4] Christ, the new Adam (I Cor 15)
[5] Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. (Mt 5/5)

"Where did my box go?"

I was in a discussion recently with some friends. Someone started talking about thinking and acting outside the box. In the midst of the conversation, I clearly heard God say, "There is no box." (And yes, I immediately saw a boy with no hair holding a spoon doing impossible things.)

"Awesome!", I thought. And who wouldn't? No boxes, no holes to fit into. It's a freeing thought. But the reality is, we've spent our lives so boxed in that we don't understand what "there is no box" means, in the same way that someone freed from years in prison has no idea what freedom really means.

Once upon a time, when this world was new born, there were no boxes. Then, for reasons we don't fully get, God put a box around one, small tree. "Don't go there," he said to Adam and Eve. "Stay out of the box."

And for a while they did. There was practically no box for Adam and Eve. They had infinity minus one to play with. They could go anywhere, do anything, so long as they avoided that one, tiny place. But, just as when someone says, "don't think of the word 'elephant'" you keep thinking the word 'elephant', Satan got them focused on the box. So long as they didn't think about it, there really was no box as far as they were concerned. But once they focused on the box, it dominated their world. And after they climbed into the box, they couldn't get out.[1] Everyone after them was born in a box. Most of us live our entire lives in our boxes.

But Jesus came to set us free. My box was gone but I didn't realize that. I wouldn't have put it this way, but subconsciously I was treating it more like an upgraded box, a bigger nicer box in many ways, and a more confining box in others, but still... just a box. Even as I realized that the constraints were mostly man-made, not God's, all I saw was a bigger, nicer box.

When I finally there was no box, I had no real way to grasp it. Walking out of a box into infinity is kind of overwhelming. Subconsciously, some part of me was dancing like a little kid, yelling, "there is no box!" while another part was adopting the patient, grown up attitude of understanding that while there wasn't what you might call a box, there must be something box-ish, a fence, a boundary, something out there.

Knowing how foolish I can be, God has been making it plain that when he says there is no box, what he really means is... there is no box. There were so many things I assumed or understood or decided or had been told I wasn't qualified to do, was unable to do, or wouldn't get the chance to do, or whatever. One by one, God has been handing me on a silver platter opportunities that destroy those concepts. I'm doing more, and having more fun doing it, with God than I thought possible, never mind likely. It's not just that there are no limits on the things he'd already called me or gifted me to do, but that through Him, I really can do anything.

Anything.

Have you got that concept yet? Anything. Everything. "All things are possible through Christ who strengthens me." Not all things within reach. Not all things to a certain extent. Not all things except these 12,933. Or even 12. All things.

Does that mean I'll get to do everything I can dream up? I have no idea. But I'm now quite confident I can do everything God can think of. Since he's infinite, and infinitely cool, that means he can dream up more than I can (and that's a lot), and even cooler stuff.

It's not a question of whether I'm worthy. It's not a question of whether I'm capable. It's not a question of whether I'm qualified. It's not a question of whether I'm called, or gifted, or passionate, or have enough faith. It's a question of whether or not there's a box. And since he said there isn't, I don't need an answer, because I can no longer find the question. (I'm not looking for it, either.)

If you've accepted the gift of grace, you also accepted freedom from your box. There's a whole, big world out there waiting to be loved on. Get out there with God and love on it. Love people out of their boxes.



[1] Some time soon I'll discuss what I believe God intended to happen with that tree. I think we misunderstand that as well.

Duty is Doody

(Title shamelessly stolen from Tim Darnell via Pam "The Fence" Rose)

Most of my life, I've heard about duty. It's ingrained into most of us. It's everywhere. Ubiquitous. Inescapable. "Do it. It's your duty."

But duty, it turns out, is a poor substitute for something else. It's a tolerable emergency backup plan. The real motivator, the thing that makes a difference, isn't duty. It's love.

Duty says I don't leave the sinking ship unless everyone else is off. Love says I do everything in my power to get everyone else off before the ship sinks, and to safety.

Duty says you paid for a concert, I'll play songs reasonably well for two hours. Love says I'll pour my whole self into this, and by the time it's over we'll all go home exhausted, drenched in sweat and joy.

Duty says I will defend this country against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Love says I will do all in my power to make this country the best place possible to live.

Duty says I'll fix your car. Love says I'll make it like new, only a little faster, with better gas mileage, and I'll top off the fluids as a bonus.

Duty says I will raise my kids to make it on their own. Love says I will pour into them what I have to help them find their destiny and have the best life possible.

Duty says I'll teach what the curriculum says to teach, and maybe you'll learn something. Love says I will do all I can to make this interesting and practical, and make sure you know it and why it matters.

Duty says I'll stay married to my wife. Love says I'll make sure we enjoy our marriage to the fullest.

Duty says I'll enforce the letter of the law. Love says I care about what the law means, and will try to apply it fairly and with grace wherever possible, reserving the weight of the law only for when it's truly needed, but will use all of that weight when needed to protect someone.

Duty says, "I made you. I'm responsible for you. If you don't screw up you have a chance." Love says, "I'll come live with you, heal you, forgive you, die in your place, and-- if you want-- dwell inside you, perfect you, and we'll have an awesome time forever."

When you can't find the love, and something simply has to be done, by all means use duty to keep going, but find that love as soon as possible. The longer you depend on duty, the more of a habit it becomes, and the more like a machine you become. Machines don't seem to have a whole lot of fun.

"Love will get you through times of no duty better than duty will get you through times of no love!" -The Fabulous, Furry, Faith Brothers

No Hormones, No Drugs, Just a Dream. Right?

I'm going to bare my soul a bit here. A part of me isn't sure that's a good idea in public, but here we go. Hopefully it will help someone. If you wants to get judgmental, that's between you and God, and you'ld find something to dislike about me, anyway. God didn't call me to normalcy. I'm finally comfortable with that.

God had spoken to me before, but it had generally been personal. Prophets were other people, not me (if they existed). The prophetic gifts (if they still existed) were for others, or if for me, would come many years later when I was no longer a young Christian. I kind of longed for them, but was usually just fine with that (if it ever happened) being off in the future.

Then I had... The Dream. (ominous music)

If you've ever had a God dream, you know it. It's not just the vividness. It's not just the impact it makes. It's not just that it's unshakable. It's not just that you know you have to do something with it. You just know. Or at least I do. Even that first one.

In the dream (which was extremely real as mine usually are) I was walking through the house one of our pastors and his wife shared with several women in the church. I was talking with one of these women-- let's call her Arwen (Not Her Real Name). She was wandering through the house and I was following her as we talked. She was stark naked. At the time this seemed perfectly normal (and trust me, in real life this would have been so abnormal as to make me think I was dreaming).

Arwen started into her room as the conversation ended. But just after she went in, she leaned back out of the doorway and said, "Miles, I need a man." Then she went back in, closed the door, and I woke up.

My first reaction was that this was some form of attack or flashback to my drug daze, and to promptly forget it, as actively as possible. That proved utterly impossible. Not because I was thinking about how Arwen looked, not because I thought I was the man, but because of all that stuff I said earlier about God dreams. Arwen could have been a woolly mammoth, and the dream would have impacted me the same way. (For the record, she was very pretty and only 3-4 years older than me. That wasn't an issue. That's another way to recognize a God dream, by how it affects you.)

The problem, however, was that I had an overwhelming conviction that I needed to tell Arwen about the dream. And that's where her nudity in the dream became a problem. We attended a holiness church, and we were serious about it. I knew we didn't burn people at the stake or stone people, but I was pretty sure we would revive the emotional equivalent. So I tried really, really hard to forget the dream, or at least deny the voice telling me to tell Arwen.

After a few weeks of not being able to do anything at church but hold onto the pew in front of me in white knuckled agony, I realized I had no choice. The following week as service was starting, I asked Arwen out into the hall. Making sure nobody else was around, I told her my dream. She listened attentively, without any apparent judgment. (My cheeks felt like they were bursting into flames!) When I finished she stood there quietly for a minute while I cringed.

"Thank you, Miles. I've been really struggling with wanting a boyfriend, and whether I should date someone, and I've been praying about it, and this is my answer. And don't be embarrassed about the clothes; that was because I've bared my soul to God. It's part of the confirmation." And with an angelic smile, she went into the service.

Within a few weeks she started dating Aragorn (Not His Real Name). Within a year they were married. I don't claim credit for that, but I do know that God chose to involve me in the process, and that it helped me at least as much as it helped them.

One thing I theoretically should have done differently was have someone else-- preferably a mature female with discernment-- there (not knowing how Arwen would react, or if she would need to talk with someone else). But there is no way on Earth I could have done that with anyone else present, unless maybe-- just maybe-- if Jesus had decided to take on the form of humanity again right there on the spot.

I didn't know Arwen real well, but I knew her enough to trust that if I were wrong, she'd let me know, and she would also keep it between us. That made it a safe environment, and if anyone ever needed a safe environment to test the prophetic waters, I did!

And you know what? While not everything God has given me to say since then (whether in a dream or not) has been easy, it's all been easy in comparison!

Safe Haven

When Bill Johnson was at CotH recently, he spoke of God raising up "houses of hope for the hopeless" and of spiritual parenting. (As you know, the latter has long been near and dear to my heart.) I'm not sure exactly what Bill was envisioning when he spoke of houses of hope, but that is an excellent description of something else God has called me to.

We keep coming across refugees-- Christians struggling to hope, spiritually homeless, either burned out or hurt by churches (or feeling that way). These are folk who have been out of church for a while, people basically afraid to go back to church.

So several of us are starting the Refuge, a House of Hope. This will be a safe place, part spiritual homeless shelter, part halfway house, part short term church home. The goals are:

1. to love people back to health in a restored relationship with Daddy God;
   
2. to help people see themselves as God sees them;
   
3. to help them forgive any who they feel hurt them;
   
4. to help them get back into a long term church home.
   

God has already brought others with like visions to help with this, and provided a home to meet in. The timing is typical God-- while this has been on my heart for a couple of months, in mid-December I realized that as we visit bodies in the area we are not only forging or reviving relationships, but we are gaining understanding of the gifts, callings and personality of each body. This means that when people are ready to plug in, we don't just say, "OK, go find a home", but can provide starting points where they will feel comfortable.

If you're in need of a safe haven, feel free to contact me!