I’m stepping out of Eden with a different perspective than the one I’ve most often held; one that is on-purpose and intentional. I now choose to see Eve and Adam’s movement into the unknown as no less inhabited by God’s kindness, care, and presence; their relationship with one another not shaped by shame and blame alone, but also mutuality, an accurate “seeing,” and a vulnerable togetherness. I am face to face with One that loves to create, empower, companion, protect, and care. As evident in Genesis 3 as in the first two chapters. I see a God who does not add to my shame, but honestly articulates what I know in my Eve-awakened consciousness and knowledge: my good and bad choices, my functioning and dysfunctioning, my naming and un-naming. In these first three chapters God has remained with me; just as I walked in the garden in the cool of the day, now I step out of Eden and into the wilderness.
And now, in the wilderness (no less than in Eden) God remains – blatantly and powerfully evident in the first words spoken in Genesis 4.
Now Adam slept with his wife, Eve, and she became pregnant. When the time came, she gave birth to Cain, and she said, “With the Lord’s help, I have brought forth a man!” (Genesis 4:1)
Do you recall the last words we heard from Eve? Then the Lord God asked the woman, “How could you do such a thing?” “The serpent tricked me,” she replied. “That’s why I ate it.” Now, just verses later, we hear a much different perspective. Look at the two lines, one after the other:
The serpent tricked me – and I ate.
With God’s help – I have brought forth a man.
There is a definite shift. Can you see it? Do you feel it? For me, it points profoundly away from an abiding sense of shame and sin and toward an abiding sense of God’s love and care. In fact, it would appear that in fact, more shame and a sense of sin dwelled in Eden than in the wilderness. It is now, out of Eden, that Eve is profoundly aware of God’s providence and help, as well as the fullness and gift of life. That is worth noting and, far more, worth allowing to seep into every Scriptural narrative that follows (more on that in posts to come).
For most of us, we leave Genesis 3 and step into the rest of Scripture with this foreboding sense of gloom; once Adam and Eve left Eden all was difficult and dark. There is some validity to such, even as we hear God’s words upon their departure – the “curses” or “consequences” of their now-found consciousness and knowledge: toil and struggle, pain in labor, relational angst, futility and loneliness. I don’t doubt that such was true. I have certainly known all of these in palpable, storied ways – within the narratives of the text and within the narratives of my own life. What I haven’t been as aware of, however, is what Eve actually experiences, invites, births, and names – things that are hardly gloomy, difficult, dark, or steeped in a curse.
It is Eve who sets the stage for how we understand ourselves and God in this new terrain, in the wilderness. God is present. God offers help. Eve and God together bring forth life. And all of this in the wilderness.
Even more, I’m struck by the fact that the first words spoken (as recorded) outside of Eden are a woman’s. Amazing! Life begins anew – both in birthing and in word – through a woman.
And then verse 2:
Later she gave birth to a second son and named him Abel.
Amazing! In only two verses we have an entire flip-flopping of what I’ve always thought about the movement out of Eden – the “banishment,” as it’s been called: Eve is the first voice to speak outside of Eden – just as God spoke in Genesis 1. Eve is the first to create and bring forth life outside of Eden – just as God brought forth life in Genesis 1. And Eve is the first to name outside of Eden – just as God named in Genesis 1 and as she was equally empowered to do alongside Adam in Genesis 2.
Outside of Eden. Into the wilderness. It is Eve who makes us aware of God’s character and care, who brings forth life, who names. It is Eve who shows us that we need not be bound in shame or darkness as women (or as men); that our abiding narrative not be sin or “fallen-ness;” that outside the garden and now in the wilderness we are surrounded by life and God; that we are hardy disempowered, but called to praise, to birth, to name, to live!
I thought I’d get much further in this chapter today, but this is plenty. A woman in the wilderness. A beautiful thing to behold.
SUBSCRIBE to my Monthly Newsletter. SUBSCRIBE to the Blog via Email or your Kindle. LIKE me on Facebook.
