In the beginning, when God created the earth . . .

(Wait a minute – when God created the earth? What happened before?)

Hold on I’m just getting started.

[I spin a wooden top on top of my table]

When God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. (Gen 1:1-2)

(Waters? When did God make the waters, and when did God create the wind?)

I see that you ask good questions. So, let me tell you about the truth Sayer.

[The cat jumps on the table.]

“God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life… And, God planted a garden in Eden, in the east; and there he put the man.” (Gen. 2:7-8)

He placed him in the glorious garden that he had made – much nicer than the earth. And, in the garden he planted a tree of life and a tree of knowledge of good and evil.

He placed the man in the garden in order to work.

(Why did God need help?)

Maybe God had better things to do.

He told the man that he could eat whatever he wished, except from one tree – the tree of knowledge of good and evil. He said that if he ate from this tree he would die.

(Why didn’t God want the man to know good from evil?)

Oh, and I forgot to mention that there were four rivers flowing out of the garden. One that circled the whole land of Havilah, where there is gold, and one that flowed around Cush…

(Are you trying to distract me? And, when did God create all of this. I thought there was just a garden).

Hold on sweetie. We may never get to that.

[The cat is transfixed by the beauty of the spinning top.]

There was so much work in the garden that the man needed help. So, God made animals, but they weren’t much help. So, God put the man to sleep and stole a rib from the man (without asking) and from the rib created a woman to be his partner.

(Well that’s not very nice. Why couldn’t he just make a woman like he made the animals?)

I know, right?

[The cat sniffs, to see if the moving object is alive.]

Anyway, luckily, one day the woman met a snake who was wise and always told the truth. And, he told the woman that the tastiest fruit in the garden was from the tree of knowledge.

The woman told the snake, “God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree … nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.’” (Gen. 2:4)

“Nonsense,” said the said the truth Sayer, “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.” (Gen. 2:4-5) And, the woman saw that tasty fruit and thought that wisdom seemed like a good thing, “so she took the fruit and ate it; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her. And, she also gave some to her husband, who was with her and he ate.” (Gen. 2:5)

(Why didn’t the man talk to the snake?)

Well, my daughter, men don’t like to talk to truth Sayers.

[The cat contemplates the top, (as much as a cat can)]

And, you know what? They didn’t die. “Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and the sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves.” (Gen. 2:7)

(That’s weird, was it cold?)

No, my dear, wisdom leads to shame.

So, when they heard God taking a stroll through the garden that evening, they hid from God because they were naked.

(Wait, I thought they made clothes)

Well, my darlin’, it’s hard to cover up shame.

So, when God couldn’t find them, he called to them, and said, “where are you?”

(Wait, why couldn’t God see them? Doesn’t God see everything?)

Because, my little pie, fig leaves, like shame make good camouflage.

[The cat finally cautiously extends a paw to touch the top.]

Anyway, God got mad, because he was caught in a lie. They didn’t die when they ate the fruit and now they were wise. Now, God was afraid that if they ate from the tree of life they would be like God and live forever.

(Why hadn’t they eaten from that tree of life already? Did the fruit look bad?)

Well, my little munchkin, no one wants to live forever.

[The cat watches as the top topples and falls from its fulcrum to rest on the table.]

Anyway, when the man saw that God was mad, he blamed the woman, and then the woman blamed the snake for telling the truth. And, God made the woman despise the truth Sayer and kicked the man and the woman out of the garden.

(Well that’s not very nice.)

Whoever, said that God was nice.

[The cat bats the now inanimate top, knocking it to the floor, then turns to more interesting prey.]

(So, what does the story mean?)

Well, maybe it means that the story’s over when we ask too many questions. Or, maybe it means nothing at all.

Now go to sleep, and I promise that I won’t steal any of your ribs.

I walked along the lake shore, found a tree that was easy to climb, and nestled myself in the crook of the lowest branch propping my legs onto the branch and leaning against the trunk. I watched the waves pushed by the wind onto the shore and thought of Spirit as the eternal wind that hovered over the waters of creation – ruach (רוּחַ).

Earlier, a classmate mentioned how the waves driven by the wind slowly change the shoreline over time. I thought about how we can change our world by allowing the Spirit to move us and recalled the hymn, Spirit of the Living God. I closed my eyes and began to sing/pray:

“Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me . . . melt me, mold me, fill me, use me.”

As I continued to pray, the wind increased into powerful gusts that shook the branch on which I sat. I opened my arms for balance and continued with eyes closed, awed by the power of the wind and a bit fearful that it would dislodge me from my perch. In this position I experienced the awe and wonder that I had often longed for in my own prayer life.

Reflecting on the experience over the past week, I realized that the sense of awe (and a bit of fear) that I experienced as the wind shook my tree was enhanced by the fact that I did not hold on to the branch. Perhaps, when we refrain from clinging too tightly to the branches of our own faith traditions, we may more readily expose ourselves to a renewed sense of awe and wonder in prayer. The deep roots kept my tree firmly planted and kept me from falling. Likewise, the deep roots of our own faith traditions can anchor and embolden us to open our arms to embrace other traditions and prayer practices, both past and present.

At church on Sunday the chancel did not have the customary floral arrangements that usually adorn the pulpit and lectern. So, during the announcements before worship, congregants were reminded to sign up to bring flowers for worship in the coming weeks. As the announcements continued a man pranced (yes pranced) down the aisle holding a bunch of slightly wilted white lilies. He was a bit disheveled. His clothes had seen more than a few days since being washed. Yet, the shoes on his sockless feet were conspicuously clean.

He stood before the pulpit and gently placed the flowers in the baptismal font that stood beside it, where they could drink and be refreshed. He then headed back down the aisle – strutting his stuff and extending the Peace of Christ with a large grin and occasional fist bump to those who acknowledged him.

After church, when asked, the associate explained that he was homeless, and struggling with addiction. He had been attending services regularly for several years and they were hoping that he would finally be admitted into a housing program in the coming month.

Commentaries propose that the God of human form is the way the Divine reveals themself to their creation. In other words – God breaks into our world in human form.
In the stories of these holy encounters, those in the presence of the anthropomorphized Divine often do not recognize that presence at first, – like the angels that visit Abraham, Balaam and his talking donkey, Samson’s mom, Manoah, or Jesus’ loved one who mistakes the resurrected Christ for a gardener. These folks are surprised and awestruck when they become aware that they are in the presence of the Divine.

I believe that I saw God’s presence in the messenger delivering wilted flowers to be refreshed and renewed in the baptismal font. I believe that I may have even fist-bumped the Divine as he pranced back to his seat, passing the peace with a big grin on his face.

Perhaps, being in seminary does this to a person.

Maybe it’s like when you purchase a certain make and model of car, and as you’re driving, all of a sudden you notice that same make and model of car on the road everywhere you go. And, you think to yourself – “wow, I had no idea that there were so many of these cars on the road.”

Maybe it’s the spectacles that Calvin describes as scripture.

Maybe this is what is revealed when we live in the world in a Christo-centric way.

Maybe this is what happens when you wear Christ tinted glasses, as you’re driving down life’s highway in your ‘Christmobile.’ You start to see a lot more of the Christ in the world.

When you start reading and contemplating how the Divine is revealed in (and to) the world, all of a sudden you start to see God’s presence prancing down the aisle with a handful of slightly wilted lilies.

And, if you’re lucky, you might just get a chance to fist pump the Divine.