Who Was the Other Who in the Garden?

God didn't mess around when he warned Adam that if he ate from the Tree of Good and Evil (caps?), "...you shall surely die."  This raises the question of what Eve and Adam were thinking when they ate the fruit.  I can only come up with three possibilities:

1. They were stupid--not able to process the consequences of their actions
2. They didn't know what death was
3. They didn't take God at his Word

If we were in that situation it would seem prudent to avoid the proscribed tree.  When the recent creator and master of the universe sees fit to emphasize the penalty as "surely die" who would want to test that boundary?  At least one could make it interesting by eating of the Tree of Life first. 

If Adam and Eve weren't intellectually capable of understanding the warning, either due to general cognitive limitations or not have a clue as to what "death" meant we have an ethical quandary--how can you punish beings with death when they don't understand the consequences?  Perhaps God let them off lightly because of that--but that hardly seems like the actions of a omniscient God.  Why bother with the tough talk?  Unless you want them to discount your words... 

The third choice, unbelief, is interesting.  There was a third party, the serpent,suggesting just that--that God was lying or at best dissembling (Oh, I meant spiritual death).   The serpent wasn't spouting untruths, everything he said came about.  Crafty devil--telling the truth... 

God on the other hand didn't follow through on his death sentence, feigned ignorance about where Eve and Adam were hiding in the garden, and asked who had told them they were naked.  Even though it seems like He was in a position to know.  Had he lost count at two, or did he consider the serpent a "who"?  

God, nonplussed that the ankle biters had knowledge of good and evil like he did barricaded the Tree of Life, preventing them from adding immortality to their list of Godly attributes. 

This disturbing contrast between God and the serpent  leaves us in a quandary.  Who are the good guys here?  The serpent speaks truth, promotes wisdom, and guides the woman towards insight.  God on the other hand seems to be showing some darkness.

In order to understand this story do we sacrifice God's honesty, omniscience, and ultimate good will towards the beings he created in His image? 

The stakes are high.  This story, this Fall, is used to justify the inherent depravity of man.  Is this the story of how we became separated from God?  Or more likely was the original story was the emergence of ethics and meaning from the animal innocence we once had.   More controversial--perhaps God was teaching the pair to not trustf those in authority.  

Some Things I Learned from my Dad

Well, are you holding up under the strain?

If you spent much time around my Dad, you probably heard that question, or one of the variants like:

• Are you still percolating on all cylinders
• Are you still moving under your own power?

Dad loved to laugh and joke around.  When I was a teenager I wired a cable from our stereo console to my desk so that I could listen to my music on headphones.  One of Dad’s favorite tricks was to sneak over and nudge up the volume on the console a little at a time.  It was like a frog in a pan of water on a stove—when would I finally notice that things are amiss?

From my Dad I learned that humor is a great equalizer, and a great way to put people at ease.

Dad did a lot of different things in his life:

• Helped manage the creameries he and my grandfather owned
• Sold mutual funds
• Ran a ranch
• Fixed farm equipment 
• Started churches
• Along with my Mom raised 5 kids 
• Helped start a college
• Developed land
• Built a golf course
• Sold real estate

When he started something new he didn't fret.  He read whatever he could gather on the subject, consulted with a lot of people, and got started.

From him I learned the best way to understand new things and finish big projects was to just jump in.

I was put to work on the ranch when I was 12.  This involved getting up at 6am to move irrigation pipe (you can imagine how much I enjoyed that), picking up thousands of hay bales, chasing cattle, and another one of my favorites—fixing fences.  It always seemed like the fences that needed repair were halfway up the side of a mountain, and we would have to carry all the required supplies on our backs.  One time we arrived at the repair site, dropped the heavy roll of barbed wire, and watched it roll 2000 feet down the mountain—hitting trees and bushes as it went.

Dad paid me $100 per month.  We worked long hours, six days a week—I figured that I was making less than 50 cents per hour.   When we worked we didn't walk from task to task—we were expected to run.  And when we ran out of assigned tasks, we learned to look around for what needed doing.

From my Dad I learned how to work hard.

When I was 15 I wanted to do some tractor work around a reservoir we were building.  My Dad thought about it and said no—the task had some risks and he wasn't comfortable with me doing it.   I was mad—but later I realized he was right.  Some risks are just not worth taking.

In the 50s and 60s we had a steady stream of missionaries and foreign pastors visiting at our house.  Some were Black; others were Asian, Hispanic, Italian and even Jewish.  In spite of the visitors differences from us my Dad treated them with the utmost respect.

As I was growing up I realized that my Dad and I were pretty different.  He was an extrovert—I’m an introvert.  He liked magazines, I liked books, new cars vs. used cars, sales vs. R&D.  But in spite of our differences he didn't try to change who I was.

I learned from my Dad that regardless of skin color, culture, or personality that it’s possible, actually required that we love and respect those that are different from us.

Audio from April 6, 2013 memorial service