Soup, Salad, Sex and the Gospel.

Today I had lunch with a professor I would probably consider my favorite at Moody. First of all, I have to say, it was “Soup Day” in our cafeteria. This means the dining room budget has all been expended on this one day of soups and cheeses and bread and crackers and fresh fruit and ceasar salad. It’s the best meal I’ll eat all year. [So this may or may not have had anything to do with why I agreed to meet Dr. Johnson for lunch early. When you meet with a prof you get into the cafeteria early. Which means no lines for the majesty of soup day. It’s awesome.] Second of all, it was probably one of the best conversations I’ve had all year.

I was asking for help on my second sermon for my Evangelistic Messages class. I’m going to preach on Genesis 3, and so far, I’ve done little to no preparation. I asked him to meet just so we could discuss the Text and roll it around in our minds a bit.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Two hours later, I left with more questions than answers.

When did sin enter the world? Was it when Eve ate the fruit? If that’s the case, then why is she even willing to question God’s integrity? Why didn’t she rightfully and immediately respond to the serpent, “Didn’t God really say? Well, of course He really said. Get away from me…”? But there was already doubt in her. She was already, at the time of the opening of the conversation, willing to question, willing to doubt, willing to trust something or someone other than her Maker. Isn’t this sin?

I think I’ve always thought that Eve was just a little bit stupid. I picture her conversing with the serpent, wide-eyed and confused and dazed by the serpent’s clever words. I imagine her hearing the question of what God really said and, like a dumb blond with not much going on upstairs, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head unknowingly. But what would that say about sin? It would be to say that sin began out of stupidity. How cruel would that be of our God to punish us for our sin that came out of our own lack of wit? No … that must not be it.

So maybe sin began with doubt? Maybe it began when Even allowed herself to question that God might not be telling her the whole truth? Or maybe when she decided to trust her own self and decision-making skills rather than the promises of her God? I think maybe it’s all of these.

Also, what do we do with that verse that depicts them realizing their naked? And what a funny reaction to realizing sin? Didn’t God say they would die? But instead we see them realize their naked. Does anyone else find this strange? Awareness of being naked is a result of sin. Actually, the same of being naked is the result because the Text tells us they realized it and they hid themselves. So hiding is a result of sin. I think this nakedness is profoundly important for our understanding of salvation and sexuality. Think about that; the breaking of their union with God caused them to find same in the nakedness of their bodies. No longer can they be naked and vulnerable and bare and uncovered and be okay. There is no perfect union between them anymore. No, now they look at each other and hide from each other. They can’t trust one another. They can’t be vulnerable with one another. Eve looks to Adam and says, “I can’t trust you, you didn’t protect me” and Adam looks back and says, “I can’t trust you, you don’t love me.” No longer safe. No longer united. No. Now they are shamed and hiding and embarrassed and need a covering.

And God provides a covering for them. He makes for them two coverings of animal skins. Usually, I’ve thought of this as being like a beaver fur coat and imagined Adam and Eve looking at the fur curiously and wondering where it came from. And then finally, they realize that it comes from one of their fury little friends from the friendly little garden. Again, I imagine they were a little bit stupid. But I wonder if it wasn’t at all like that. I wonder if God covered their shameful nakedness with two bear skins that were still warm from the recent life that pulsed though their bodies only moment earlier. I wonder if they felt the blood running down their torsos and legs and smelled the stench of death that their sin brought. A bloody carcass is not quite the same picture we see on the flannel graph where Adam and Eve are walking out of the garden looking sorry what they did looking like Tarzan and Jane in their jungle clothes.

Genesis 3 does not stop there. There’s a promise given. A promise of another bloody carcass that will one day cover the shameful nakedness we experience in sin. The bloody body of Jesus Christ is spoken of in the New Testament as our “robe of righteousness” our “covering”. Do you see? Our naked Savior on the cross covers us. He took our shame, even our nakedness and it is His death that covers the nakedness of our sin that brought about the element of death in our world.

And yet, Jesus Christ still looks at the Church and says, in effect, “Wanna know what it’s like between me and the church? Look at the sexual union between a husband and a wife.” How radial! The shame and the nakedness that was so fundamentally flawed in the fall is the same thing that Jesus points to and says, “Look. That’s you and Me.” That must mean that His blood is more than enough to redeem our sexuality, more than enough for our nakedness.

That’s too much for me. It’s too much for my heart and mind and definitely too much for a 25 minute sermon. It’s awe-striking. It’s profound. It’s deeper than I can understand and higher than my mind can ascent to. And yet it’s mine. Regardless of my understanding of it, it’s mine. This is the Gospel and it’s in me, preaching itself to me again and again every day. It shows itself in Texts like Genesis three and in conversations on soup day. And I’m grateful.