It is true. I guess it is the most artistic thing about me since I can’t sing, draw, paint, or play any sort of musical instrument. But, my creative mind must dabble in something, so why not throw some words together and make some of them rhyme in no particular structure?
I wrote this one about a year ago after reading an introduction of a book with a small anecdote about how Genesis 3 would have read if Adam spoke to Eve and kept her from being deceived. It is a very emotional and personal piece about the struggles of a young man living in a broken world with broken people, and written in the same vein as the work of a guy named Levi the Poet (except he is way better and makes videos and has a website and stuff). If you read it and like it, that’s cool. If not (as in if you don’t read it or don’t like it) I don’t really care!
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Father Adam, Father Adam, what have you done? The Lord’s son, hiding himself behind crudely weaved leaves ashamed in front of the Face of Love.
Finally this Sunday school lesson makes sense to me. It used to be just a cleaned up story where the first boy and first girl sort of screwed up because this snake offered up a bad apple and God only got disappointed. But the knowledge of good and evil given to me that I was never intended to have now shows me the magnitude of your utter failure.
In your moment of reckoning you held your tongue in front of that lying snake, now if I die before I wake I better hope the Lord, my soul, to take. Silent you decided to be, apparently believing that saving your breath when your wife ate from that tree wouldn’t put your entire race in jeopardy. Now I clench my fists and grit my teeth as this darkness rolls in over me.
I can’t help but scream—What were you thinking?! Was that not your bride right in front of you sinking into that trap? Why didn’t you call out to her! Was it so long ago that the Lord gave her to you? When you sung a love song that were the first words any person ever spoke to another? Naked and shameless you got to enjoy the loving bliss from the woman you were made to share it with. But I’m sit in front of a computer screen to hunt for women to rape with my mind. A cowardly boy with a problem with intimacy, how will I ever be able to treat a young lady like she deserves to be? She gives me an inch, I want to take a mile, and with a heart and mind that are so vile that I would manipulate her to feel like a man for a just little while. And I pile onto her pain that came from her father that never told her she was beautiful but called her a whore for losing her virginity in high school.
All of this pain and hurt for what? A bite of fruit and a marital conflict avoided! But separated it left us from the Lord of Creation. You walked with him in Paradise! How could you ever think that shutting up when Eve needed your advice would do God’s love and provision any justice? You got to live my dream of living in perfect peace with our Creator; away from this place where my joy and purpose cease with these frequent seasons of gloominess that threaten to swallow my soul. At night I drink my bitter tears from the lessons I am forced to face on my own, wondering if I will ever really be a man or if I will die a little boy ashamed and alone.
I wish you were here; I wish you were here to see the hell that your offspring live through. Every day the scars get deeper and deeper and our knees get weaker and weaker. I want to see you weep and wail over all of these broken sinners. I want you to know that you are the reason my father is so cold to me, you are the reason his father was crippled by disease, and you are the reason his father was swept out to sea. I want to see you come and clean up this mess you created but you died! From the dust you were taken and to the dust you returned. Your failure caused this poison called death to flow inside your veins and be a generational curse for every shattered image bearer after you. But what is worse, I am screaming at a dead man for what I have done just like he blamed his Creator about that woman he placed with him there.
How can I look at myself in the mirror? I just see a frail shell ready to crumble when the terror sets in. Some man I am. Some man I try to be. But when I see that face I just see all the destruction that I have left in my wake. I tend to forget that these hands have torn so much apart and this adulterous and murderous lump inside my chest is supposed to be my heart. This thing is the wellspring of so much filth that I cannot bear it any longer. I am a ticking time bomb that has a clock near zero as this darkness bears down on me. O God I cannot help but think that this is the hour of my demise.
And then, I met His eyes. Eyes that had seen their fair share of tears and endured many sleepless nights but eyes that held an unworldly mixture of power, justice, and delight. Eyes that could turn a mountain in to sand, a voice that could make the lame stand, and a pierced hand that could rebuke the seas and settle my soul. The mute will sing and the deaf will hear and this wreckage that is called a man will finally be reconstructed into the mirror that was supposed to reflect this Majesty to Creation. One man caused sin and death to plague this world but the One Man called God’s Word destroyed it once and for all.
Lord, hasten the day when Your holy Enmity places His heel so violently on the head of the enemy, and this love is finally fully revealed to me! But as for now I will stand illuminated when this darkness surrounds Your people and undaunted when the accuser whispers sweet nothings in my ear, for I stand justified by the Blood of the Lamb that rectified my bond with my Heavenly Father. And though one day I will go the way of all the earth, on His day I will be given back a restored creation to my Savior and my Creator, and I will sing Your praise in peace forevermore.
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