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chapter 2

Jesus: The Embodiment of the Kingdom

Stories require conflict, otherwise they wouldn’t be stories at all.

Something—a problem, person, or situation—must provoke the hero, present an obstacle, or oppose the hero in some way. Conflict fuels the narrative of every classic story, and nowhere is that more true than in the Great Story.

Conflict enters the scene early on. In fact, the beginning of our story has hardly finished before things get out of hand. God fashions the universe and populates the earth, and he places the crowning jewel of creation, his masterpiece, Adam and Eve, in a paradise where Creator and creature enjoy an intimate connection. We read in the Book of Genesis that God put man in the garden to “cultivate and care for it” (2:15) not simply as a hired hand or professional worker but as a partner.

We see the level of trust God places in man in this key passage: “So the Lord God formed out of the ground all the wild animals and all the birds of the air, and he brought them to the man to see what he would call them; whatever the man called each living creature was then its name” (Genesis 2:19). In the biblical worldview, to name something was to have power over it, to give it shape and identity. By tasking Adam with naming the animals, God treats man as a partner, making him a steward and inviting him into a communion of life. In the beginning, there is deep connection and integrity, harmony and communion between God and man, and between man and the created world.

That communion extends to the relationship between man and woman as well. At the beginning of our story, Adam and Eve possess a deep communion with each other, a wholeness and mutuality characterized by intimate self-gift. We see this intimacy represented in the second account of the creation of man and woman in the Book of Genesis. After fashioning Adam from the clay of the earth, God knows that it is “not good for the man to be alone” (2:18), and creates a companion, a helpmate, a partner. Placing Adam in a deep sleep, the Lord God forms Eve out of one of Adam’s ribs. That is why Adam exclaims with such awe, “This one, at last, is bone of my bone / and flesh of my flesh” (2:23). In Eve, Adam sees one who is his equal in dignity, another person who is both different from himself and yet alike in the deepest of ways. For Adam, Eve is not simply other; she is beloved. The author of Genesis affirms this experience of integral intimacy and connection between Adam and Eve: for the “man and his wife were both naked, yet they felt no shame” (2:25).

Adam and Eve enjoy interlocking “webs” of communion in the Garden of Eden—communion with God, with creation, and with each other. In the garden, the love relationship between God and his creatures is to be lived out for all eternity. Adam and Eve have complete access to every wonder of the garden. God gives everything to them, with just one exception: they must not eat of the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

As we journey into the second chapter of our story, this may seem like an arbitrary rule God simply drops on Adam and Eve. However, consider for a moment what this forbidden fruit symbolizes. God, by definition, is an eternal being—without a beginning or an end. Humanity, however, has a clear beginning. Therefore, we are not gods, and even though twenty-first-century culture focuses a great deal on self-determinism and choosing one’s identity, we are not the beginning and the end of our destiny, nor are we in complete control over what we experience. We are creatures, fashioned and made by a God who loves us, yet still creatures. The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, therefore, represents the limits of our creaturehood—our finitude.

It is precisely here that the drama of our story begins.

Satan—once the brightest angel named Lucifer who, upon learning of the divine plan for humanity and all creation, refused to submit to God’s will—invades the Garden of Eden, coming as a serpent to whisper lies into Eve’s ears. The Enemy immediately strikes at the heart of her relationship with God. He asks her if she and Adam are forbidden to eat the fruit of every tree in the garden. Already, we see the trust Eve has in her Creator begin to dissolve. She replies that they may eat of all the trees except one, and if they eat the fruit of that tree, or even touch it, they will die. However, God’s prohibition only mentions eating of the tree. Eve’s response is untrue. Even the serpent’s initial question about God’s commands starts to affect Eve. Her response does not reflect the loving trust of a daughter, but rather the attitude of one whose relationship with God is tinged with fear.

The devil launches his next attack: “But the snake said to the woman: ‘You certainly will not die! God knows well that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods, who know good and evil’” (Genesis 3:4-5). This is often the devil’s preferred tactic, insinuating that God isn’t a good Father, but rather a jealous and imperfect one. When Satan utters those words, the trust Eve held for God continues to die in her heart. Looking at the tree, she sees that its fruit is delicious and good to eat. Surely, if my Father were a good Father, he would want me to enjoy the best food.

Eve also sees that the fruit is beautiful to behold. Surely, if my Father were a good Father, he would not want to deny me beauty.

Finally, Eve sees that the fruit is good for gaining wisdom, the knowledge of good and evil. Surely, wisdom is a precious thing to have, and if my Father were a truly good Father, he would not withhold wisdom from me.

Turning her back on God, Eve takes the fruit, gives some to Adam, and they both eat it, deliberately choosing to disobey God. Remember, the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil represents the limits of their creaturehood. In this transgression, called the Original Sin, Adam and Eve reject their status as limited creatures. They choose themselves over God. They choose against their true identity as people made in the image and likeness of God, preferring their own rule over the Father’s loving kindness. If the kingdom is about right relationship and communion with God, then to live under the loving dominion of the Creator is to acknowledge the truth about who God is and who we are. Through their choice to eat the fruit of the forbidden tree, Adam and Eve choose their own will over God’s, refusing to acknowledge the reality of their dependence on God as his sons and daughters.

In doing so, they fall right into Satan’s trap. In their desire to be free from God’s rule and from any dependence on him, they reject his kingdom and make a kingdom out of their own will—a kingdom of Man. The tragedy of the Great Story is that Adam and Eve exchange the truth for a lie: desiring freedom, they fall into bondage and take all of creation with them.

Everything Falls Apart

Remember that God created humanity to experience love, and love cannot be coerced. It must be freely given. Therefore, God has given us free will—not so we can choose between good and evil, but rather so we can freely choose the good and embrace our identity as God’s sons and daughters. When Adam and Eve, our first parents, choose disobedience instead of God’s love, they do not use their free will, they abuse it.

This abuse has serious consequences that ripple across all of creation. The very first consequence is that the intimate bond between Adam and Eve ruptures: “Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves” (Genesis 3:7). Previously, our first parents were naked in the Garden of Eden and experienced no shame. Now, their bodies have become sources of temptation for each other, and they are ashamed. They create clothing to cover themselves, and this layer of protection creates a barrier that separates them.

The brokenness in the relationship between Adam and Eve possesses more than a physical dimension. Adam and Eve, who were spouses, helpmates, and partners with each other, find themselves at odds now. When the Lord confronts them after they eat the forbidden fruit, Adam blames both God and Eve: “The woman whom you put here with me—she gave me fruit from the tree, so I ate it” (Genesis 3:12). Adam wastes no time in shifting the blame to his wife, throwing her “under the bus” with a loud, She did it!

The rupture in communion between Adam and Eve, however difficult and tragic, is not the final consequence of their choice. Because of our first parents’ disobedience, the intimate bond connecting humanity and God is ruptured as well. Adam and Eve’s decision leads them to separate themselves from God. After the moment of the fall, God enters the garden and strolls through it. Adam and Eve, however, are nowhere to be found. They are hiding from God—a real rift has formed between them.

This is what is meant by the “stain of Original Sin.” Since our first parents turned their backs on communion with God, all of their descendants—which is to say all of humanity (including you and me)—are born out of communion with God. This stain of Original Sin isn’t a moral judgment on babies or a statement that all people are now evil. We are still made in the image of God, but that image has been wounded. Remember that God breathed his own Spirit (ruah) into them, giving them life, which was a share in his very life. Our first parents used that breath, the life God had given to them, to turn away from God. The stain of Original Sin is actually a lack: it is the absence of that divine life, which Adam and Eve lost for us by their disobedience.

Without that divine life, our intellect, will, emotions—all of the soul’s faculties (or powers)—are wounded. Our bodies become sources of temptation, and we experience a hunger for God and his love that we often seek to fill with things that are not godly. Without that divine life, death enters the world, the final layer of separation introduced by Adam and Eve’s sin. Even the original integrity of the human person—body and soul working together in harmony—breaks down as a result of sin. In God’s plan, our bodies and souls would never separate, and we would dwell in the unity of God’s love for all eternity. Now, the human body ages and breaks down, eventually succumbing to bodily death.

As if these weren’t enough consequences, the whole created order is thrown into disarray:

To the woman he said: “I will intensify your toil in childbearing; / in pain you shall bring forth children. / Yet your urge shall be for your husband, / and he shall rule over you.”

To the man he said: “Because you listened to your wife and ate from the tree about which I commanded you, You shall not eat from it,

“Cursed is the ground because of you! / In toil you shall eat its yield / all the days of your life. / Thorns and thistles it shall bear for you, / and you shall eat the grass of the field. / By the sweat of your brow you shall eat bread, / Until you return to the ground, / from which you were taken; / For you are dust, / and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:16-19).

Through the devil’s lies, Adam and Eve abuse the gift of free will which God had given them, and their sin leaves all of creation wounded. Now tension, domination, lust, manipulation, and many other things threaten human relationships. Now natural disasters afflict the world. Now pain and illness enter the human experience—because of this moment. We sometimes look at the suffering of good people and want to blame God for it all. The truth is that evil and suffering and illness are real, but God had nothing to do with their coming into being. These evils have resulted from two things: the disobedience of our first parents and the seductive prompting of Satan.

God did not create evil, illness, and suffering—they come as a result of the fall of man. All of the suffering and illness and trauma that we experience in this life has its origin in this moment of the story. If God were truly a good God, and if he were truly all powerful, wouldn’t he have fixed things for us? Many people have followed this train of thought and come to the conclusion that God cannot be all good or possess all power. Many therefore decide God does not exist, or that if he does, he’s anything but loving.

The truth is that God could easily have erased the fall of man. He could have interrupted the story the moment Adam and Eve took a bite of the forbidden fruit, snapped his “fingers,” and started Eden 2.0. Adam and Eve would be ushered offstage and Jose and Luana would take their place. Or, if God chose not to take this kind of cosmic mulligan, he could instantly have healed the effects of the Original Sin. Why didn’t he? Well, this is where our story takes a wonderful twist.

God didn’t reverse the fall of man or instantly heal its effects because he loves us too much.