My Garden

Unless you’re a parent of littles at the age where you're teaching them the basic Bible stories we all deem essential (bless your hearts, my exhausted friends) or you’re of the crowd that is really concerned with the question of evolution vs. creation (and I have many friends in that crowd, too), you may not have given much thought to the first three chapters of Genesis in a while.

My Sunday School class discussed them yesterday morning. Our “quarterly”, which I read ahead of time to prepare for the lesson, encouraged us to re-read the story of the Creation and Fall with fresh grown-up eyes and with a Lenten focus: is there a sacrifice you need to make? A sin you need to grieve and repent of? An unproductive habit you need to abstain from?

And I found one.

So, the Garden of Eden was, of course, full of fruitful trees, and God gave Adam and Eve permission to partake of the abundance and enjoy it to the full . . . except for that one tree. Just one. So many blessings in that garden! So many wonderful gifts! Only one forbidden thing. And of course, the forbidden thing is where Eve’s focus landed.

Now, we know that it was the serpent who turned her focus there. The enemy does that. But let’s be honest: in our fallen state now, we don’t need the enemy to skew our focus; we're quite capable on our own. A Bible study teacher I had years ago who had been  involved in Satanic practice before his conversion pointed out that unlike God, Satan’s resources are limited; he only has so many fallen angels to put on duty. If he knows that our own sinful tendencies are going to be enough to pull us away from God, he’ll leave us to our own devices and send his minions elsewhere.

But the Genesis 3 garden conversation is happening before the Fall, and the serpent needs to get the ball rolling by sticking his lying forked tongue into the situation. “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden?’” Which, of course, is not at all what God said, and even Eve knows it . . . but it still does the trick. It gets Eve focused not on the blessings, but on the prohibitions. The forbidden. The thing God said is not for her.

Y’all, I’m there. 

I don’t know exactly how I got here, but that’s where I am. There was a period of time after the settling of my earthquake when I looked around at what I had left and saw beautiful gift after beautiful gift and was surprised by joy and gratitude. But lately, I’m spending too much time thinking about what I don’t have anymore. Why? I'm not sure. I keep blaming the hormonal frenzy I experienced in the months preceding and following my surgery – it certainly did a number on my emotional and mental state. But the hormones have settled, and I now seem to just be in a rut.

I miss things in my pre-earthquake life. I visit beautiful homes with fireplaces and libraries and abundant counterspace, and I miss the luxury of that kind of living. I see the loving marriages of dear friends, and I miss sharing my life with someone. I miss having my daughters near me. I miss having someone to watch TV with and cook for and kiss on the forehead as I pass through the room. All of a sudden, my focus is back on the stuff that, for whatever reason, God has now determined is not for me . . . at least not right now.

Since I didn’t grow up practicing Lent, I don’t usually force myself into forty-day abstentions during this season. But this year, I’ve been convicted of the need for a fast: I’m abstaining from wanting what I don’t have. I have to stop staring at the tree God said no to. He has given me so many, many blessings, friends -- a bountiful garden. Today, I’m actively choosing (again) to pull my wandering brain back to the present . . . to his presents . . . to his presence.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good!” Psalm 34 tells me. So today, I will enjoy the abundance in this garden God has planted for my life – enjoy it to the full.