The Lord God
took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. And
the Lord God commanded
the man, ‘You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree
of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you
eat of it you shall die.’ Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild
animal that the Lord God
had made. He said to the woman, ‘Did God say, “You shall not eat from any tree
in the garden”?’ The woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit
of the trees in the garden; but God said, “You shall not eat of the fruit
of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you
shall die.” ’ But the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not die; for
God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be
like God, knowing good and evil.’ So when the woman saw that the tree
was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was
to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also
gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of
both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves
together and made loincloths for themselves. (Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7)
Hi, God.
It’s been a while since I’ve talked with
you. You have to forgive me—of course, you’re good at that—but I’ve been kind
of busy. I really like this snow that you’ve made. It’s cold, but it’s kind of
pretty and we never had it in Eden. Of course, we never had to shovel it,
either, but hey! You do what you’ve got to do, right?
You like my new outfit? Eve made it. Who’d
have thought—you take the wool off of a sheep and then you wash it and spin it
around and it becomes long and stringy and you just sort of weave it in and out
and you can make all kinds of stuff with it. Not that there was anything wrong
with the garments of skin you made for us—heck of a lot better than those dumb
fig leaf aprons we made, right?
Well, I guess I’ve been okay. The work is
kind of hard but you said by the sweat of my brow I eat bread, you know? It’s
actually fun sometimes, too. I mean, I like herding the animals and tilling the
ground. It makes me feel like I’ve done something important. And the boys help
out a lot, too. Of course they bicker all the time, but I guess that’s how
brothers are. I wouldn’t know. You never gave me a brother. Not that I’m
complaining..!
I guess I just wanted to say hello and to
tell you again that I’m sorry. I’m not sorry because I have to work. I think
work has made me a better person, don’t you? I’m just sorry I hurt you because
I miss you. You don’t ever come
walking among us at the time of the evening breeze like you used to. And
sometimes I just feel very far away from you.
And, not for nothing, I’m kind of mad at
you sometimes, too. I mean, why did you put that friggin’ tree in the garden in
the first place if you didn’t want us to eat it? And why did you make that
talking snake who told us everything would be okay if we did eat..? So, okay! I
know good from evil, but I wish I didn’t if it means I don’t get to know you.
Look: Nothing’s really been the same since
I messed up. You don’t come around any longer, the environment and I don’t get
along—there’s snow in the winter and weeds in the summer and snakes that don’t
talk who I have to watch out for and rats and bugs that eat the crops and the
boys fight all the time and the wife’s always on my butt! Of course I don’t
really blame her for that. I guess I shouldn’t have blamed her for that whole
fruit-eating thing. I probably need to apologize to her for that.
But, listen, I just want to thank you for
giving me another chance and not striking me dead when I disobeyed you. That was
very merciful of you. I guess now that if you hadn’t given me the choice to
trust you or disobey you, I never would’ve known what it means to really trust you. Or love you. And I do love you, God. I want you to know
that. Sometimes I think the worst thing I’ve ever done was the best day of my
life.
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