This was kind of a thing in my house. If something went missing into the great abyss and you were at that point (you know, the one where your ready to pull out every last hair), the accusations would start flying.
Suddenly, all people in the house became, not family members, but culprits. Bad guys, not common blood. Offenders, not friends – who should be charged, judged and accused. Suspicions would run high. Who misplaced that item?
Why is it so easy to point the finger?
To say something like, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”
I at because of him!
It wasn’t me!
You see that bite in the apple? Not may fault!
Him! That one! Look over there.
We hunt for relief from our shame, a shelter from the burden, a hope that we don’t have to carry its load. Can I offload on you?
God’s big lesson is less in Eve’s response and more in his question, “What is this you have done?” Gen. 3:13
He knew what she did, but wanted her to know too.
Hitting a hard realization, often pushes us away from immediate rationalizations.
Knowing he sees us, is knowing we can’t pull a fast one on the great one.
The beginning of recommission, often starts at admission.
In fact, just hearing his voice – and answering it – makes us immediately aware of where we stand – naked and hiding in a bush deathly afraid.
We push away our sin on to someone else because we don’t want it to land on us. It would wreck our good girl image, our seemingly great place and space in God’s garden, our joy in being free as a child of God, or so we think.
So, we scramble and pick up the gameboard of God’s players and try to scramble the board, we mess up progress in a way where no one knows who did what – hoping that chaos will realign the whole mat.
But, we forget who the master player is, don’t we? The one who stands it all the whole time. Just like a kid getting ready to cheat, our moves are made from the same place – we want to win in the end.
I do. I don’t want to disappoint him. I don’t want to let him down. I want to stay child – numero uno. I want to be in good graces. I want to still be loved.
And, that, right there, is the greatest lie of the devil isn’t it? That if we bite into the apple that we will never be loved again. He gets us on that one.
It’s our biggest fear, it’s what makes us rip off our clothes in shame, hide in a bush and beat our knees together out of a pulsating heart of fear.
But, here, we listen to the wrong voice. The other voice, the voice of God says, “You can’t do something that will ever make me stop being something, doing something or giving something for you.”
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Ro. 8:38-39
When we stand on God’s ground, we stand on loved ground.
When we find Christ, we are branded as his.
When we find love, we can’t be thrusted outside of its confines, no matter how bad we act.
With these anchors as our holders, we can be okay with God’s instruction that “each one should carry their own load.” Gal. 6:5
We can carry our own load, because Christ carried his all the way to the point that complete forgiveness was poured out.
In the end, we will be okay. We will be pulled in tighter than a mom with a loved child. We will be held close as our mouths force out the words, “I am sorry.” We will find the lesson under the mat of the gameboard and it will bring us closer to God.
We will look at ourselves and see – we were wrong.
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