Q&A
Read Genesis 3.
If you're a parent, you've had this experience. "Who did this?" "This" being something broken, damaged, lost or spilled. And you know the drill: the kids either blame each other or blame that person who occupies every home: "I Don't Know." (Of course, if there is only one child, the only option is that mysterious, invisible occupant.) I Don't Know did a lot of things around our house when the kids were younger. I would always tell them, "You'll get in less trouble if you just come clean and tell me what happened." And they rarely did. Apparently, they didn't believe me.
But they're not the first. Adam and Eve didn't believe God, either. I don't know if that's what he said to them or not, but I do know after Eve (and Adam) gave into the serpent, God came to them asking questions. Like a good parent, God wanted them to "fess up" even though (like most parents) God already knew what had happened and who had done what. But, in true child fashion (to quote Nicky Gumbel), Adam blamed Eve, Eve blamed the serpent, and the serpent didn't have a leg to stand on. (Insert rim shot here.)
The first question God asks in the Garden of Eden, though, is one that echoes throughout all of time and space. "Where are you?" It's not that God doesn't know where any of us are. God is aware of the number of hairs on your head (Luke 12:7), so he's absolutely aware of where you are. It's not like God has lost track of Adam, Eve, you or me, like someone who has lost their keys. It's more that God, like the father in the story of the prodigal son, waits for us to turn toward him, to want to come home. God doesn't force us, corner us or drag us back to him. God waits for us to take the first step, to answer him. "Where are you?" I'm right here, and I need your help.
So often today, though, we find other ways to answer the question (if we answer it at all; sometimes we ignore the call). But if we do answer, we have excuses, obligations and other reasons not to really respond: "I'm not interested right now, God. I'm busy pursuing money...or sex....or fame....or stuff." "I'm over here, God, in the midst of my career...or my children's activities...or I'm on Facebook...I'll make time for you later. Have your people call my people. We'll do lunch." "Oh, right, God, I know I need to turn around and make time for you, but I'm so busy right now. How's your next week looking?" "Well, you see, God, if I turned around, I'd have to give up these things, these actions, this stuff that I love right now. My heart is already given away."
Where are you?
"At work. At play. Online. Pursuing pleasure and entertainment at any cost."
Where are you?
"I'm worshipping other gods, all right? Just leave me alone and I'll get back to you when I need you."
Where are you?
God is calling. God is asking. He's waiting, patiently, for you, the one whom he loves. He knows you like no one else. And he has a place all reserved for you in his family.
Where are you?
If you're a parent, you've had this experience. "Who did this?" "This" being something broken, damaged, lost or spilled. And you know the drill: the kids either blame each other or blame that person who occupies every home: "I Don't Know." (Of course, if there is only one child, the only option is that mysterious, invisible occupant.) I Don't Know did a lot of things around our house when the kids were younger. I would always tell them, "You'll get in less trouble if you just come clean and tell me what happened." And they rarely did. Apparently, they didn't believe me.
But they're not the first. Adam and Eve didn't believe God, either. I don't know if that's what he said to them or not, but I do know after Eve (and Adam) gave into the serpent, God came to them asking questions. Like a good parent, God wanted them to "fess up" even though (like most parents) God already knew what had happened and who had done what. But, in true child fashion (to quote Nicky Gumbel), Adam blamed Eve, Eve blamed the serpent, and the serpent didn't have a leg to stand on. (Insert rim shot here.)
The first question God asks in the Garden of Eden, though, is one that echoes throughout all of time and space. "Where are you?" It's not that God doesn't know where any of us are. God is aware of the number of hairs on your head (Luke 12:7), so he's absolutely aware of where you are. It's not like God has lost track of Adam, Eve, you or me, like someone who has lost their keys. It's more that God, like the father in the story of the prodigal son, waits for us to turn toward him, to want to come home. God doesn't force us, corner us or drag us back to him. God waits for us to take the first step, to answer him. "Where are you?" I'm right here, and I need your help.
So often today, though, we find other ways to answer the question (if we answer it at all; sometimes we ignore the call). But if we do answer, we have excuses, obligations and other reasons not to really respond: "I'm not interested right now, God. I'm busy pursuing money...or sex....or fame....or stuff." "I'm over here, God, in the midst of my career...or my children's activities...or I'm on Facebook...I'll make time for you later. Have your people call my people. We'll do lunch." "Oh, right, God, I know I need to turn around and make time for you, but I'm so busy right now. How's your next week looking?" "Well, you see, God, if I turned around, I'd have to give up these things, these actions, this stuff that I love right now. My heart is already given away."
Where are you?
"At work. At play. Online. Pursuing pleasure and entertainment at any cost."
Where are you?
"I'm worshipping other gods, all right? Just leave me alone and I'll get back to you when I need you."
Where are you?
God is calling. God is asking. He's waiting, patiently, for you, the one whom he loves. He knows you like no one else. And he has a place all reserved for you in his family.
Where are you?
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