Eden and the Cross

What I miss most about Eden is the feeling of certainty. Everything He made was perfect, everything He did was right. There was no doubt and no fear. We had not learned what those words meant, then.

The moment I bit into the sweet flesh of the forbidden fruit, I knew. I knew with awful certainty that my God was mighty beyond understanding and that I should be afraid of His greatness. I knew then my terrible power, that I could destroy what I had built; I could kill what had suckled at my breast.

And the sweetness of the fruit turned into bitterness on my tongue. It was wrong, all wrong, like eyes where ears should be or three mouths. And where did I learn the meaning of wrong?

I spit out the fruit with as much force as I can muster - it dribbles out of my mouth in a wavery trail of drool. I learn the meaning of weakness.

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I do not know my right from wrong, my front from back, truth from lies. The newspapers tell me what to think. The internet tells me who to support for the elections. The magazines tell me what I should be wearing this season. Sunday School tells me that I am unique and that Jesus loves me. Church tells me the times are evil and the world is coming to an end. They do not teach me how to love homosexuals, prostitutes, rapists, murderers without condoning their actions and morals. They cannot explain the difference between "us" and "them". Is the any difference, if all are flawed and all bleed when cut?

The fruit, that damn blasted fruit; that brought all men to their knees, that made us pitifully confused creatures perpetually floating in a mist of confusion and duality. But it wasn't the fruit, was it really? It was our desire. And all that was supposed to bring us closer to His status - our knowledge, our labour, our piety - have failed to bring us peace. Failed to restore Eden.

We stack our accomplishments like building blocks to make a pathway to heaven. They fall, each and every attempt, dangling uselessly like a trail of drool.

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And with knees bent, head bowed; my God takes away the fruit that poisons and chains me to desperation and hopelessness. He clothes me in righteousness and He lays upon my back two pieces of wood, fastened together -a cross. He tells me to walk with it, the rest of my days.

I speak from beneath that weight now; exhausted but triumphant, hurt but stubbornly pushing forward, doubting my faith but trusting in what I cannot see. Fully aware of my mortality and my fragility. But even as these cloudy eyes fill with tears, I know that one day they will shine radiantly with joy. And what is broken will be made whole, and this feeble life of mine transformed into something masterful, something beautiful.