Without the shedding of
blood there is no remission (of sin)
Hebrews 9:22 And
almost all things are by the law purged with blood; and without shedding of
blood is no remission.
A little over 6000 years ago, a man had a back yard
full of animals. He loved them, gave
each and every one of them a name, spent a lot of time with all of them. But,
of all the beautiful animals he had... of all the cute, furry, little
creatures; the graceful deer, adorable bunny rabbits, romping little puppy
dogs, of all the wonderful animals of the Father's creation, animals that were his to pet and
love and care for, he had a favorite.
You should have seen the ponies out in the pasture
of an evening, feeling their oats and frolicking among the purple-flowered
alfalfa. You should have witnessed him
being visited every day by the big cats, by bears, by owls and eagles.
But First Man had a favorite, a ram he had nurtured
since it was just a wee lamb with its spindly little legs barely able to hold
up its body. Wool as white as snow and thicker than his wife's gorgeous red
hair.
He had named the ram Paschal and personally fed him
every morning and evening. He was also the Father's favorite. They both would
play hide and seek with Paschal sometimes in the evening at just about dusk.
There came a day when First Man was combing some of
the grass out of Paschal's rich coat when suddenly he heard his wife's voice,
urging him to come as quick across the garden as he could. Never had he heard
such urgency in her voice.
He patted Pashcal on the crown of his head and
stroked one his majestically curled horns. Amazing, at not even 2 years old,
how quickly he had matured into such a beautiful and powerful ram. Yes, truly,
he loved this sheep more than anything except his gracious Father and his
precious wife.
Hurrying into the very center of the garden from
where his wife called him, he thought he saw the movement, maybe the end of a
tail of something slithering under a bush. Here, the trees stood tallest. Here the fruit was
more luscious than anywhere else. Was it the nearness of the river, the
richness of the earth's floor, or the proximity to the tree of life? This is
where he was born from dust. Here is where his wife was fashioned from his rib.
It was cool here, the air was fresh with the scents of flower blooms, a slight,
comfortable humidity, and the gigantic ripe fruit clinging to the trees.
It was then he glimpsed his wife, standing over in
the shade of the forbidden tree. It stood there, complimenting her beauty in
every way. As shapely as she was, so the curvature of the tree magically drew
the eye. The fruit hanging ripe from its limbs rivaled the lusciousness of her
eyes.
Her eyes, however, seemed heavy, half shaded with a
strange look. An elusive word with which he was not
familiar made its way into his conscience, "embarrassment." What was this strange concept working at his mind?
And this countenance she shyly expressed, it was, at the same time, alluring,
demure and yet, he was put off by it. What's more, she couldn't return his gaze
for more than a momentary glance.
"Is something troubling you, my love?"
"No, well, yes, I think. I don't know."
"Strange" he said, "I've never seen
you like this. What has happened?"
She glanced momentarily at the tree behind her, then
at the fruit hanging over her head from an extended branch. Then at him. A
puzzled look came across his face. It's now or never, she thought, as she reached up to
the nearest ripe piece of fruit and snatched it from the limb.
"But this is the tree I warned you about."
He said with a twinge of frustration in his voice. "The Lord told us not
to eat of it, and I told you not to even touch it."
"Just eat!" She responded, as she handed
him the most lovely, colorful, plump, ripe fruit either of them had ever encountered.
She had no ill intent in giving him the forbidden
fruit. She just wanted him to taste what she had tasted, smell what she had
smelled, experience this strange new feeling she was feeling. He had never had
any reason to distrust her, or, for that matter, to distrust anyone or anything
he had ever encountered.
And thus, he began to debate within himself, dare he
disobey the Father? Part of him wanted to toss the food to the ground, turn
his back on his bride and march away. Another part of him wanted to find a
place to sit and consider what was happening, to process this war beginning to
rage within his being. It was as if something new was about to be born within
his soul, or, perhaps maybe something he had always known was about to die.
Die? What was that? Another new concept to his
brain, yet, there it was, as real as if it were a truth, and yet, it was not a
part of his experience.
Oh, so many strange emotions! But there he stood,
his wife extending to him once again the fruit he had returned to her moments
before. Suddenly, it was as if his whole life passed before his eyes; the
creation of his wife, the naming of the animals, the care of this wonderful garden
and most vividly, the daily fellowship of the Father as they wound through the
serene paths of the garden at day's end.
Eve looked deeply into his eyes with a pleading,
hungry, gaze. There were two people on earth, yet one unit, and one Father who
met daily with them. She now sensed that they were about to separate onto two
divergent pathways, unless she could convince him to eat the fruit. As well, he
knew they stood at a crossroads. Either he would obey the Father, and his own
better judgment, or he would take his first bite of that which was off limits
and become complicit with his wife.
And then she spoke, "Adam, my husband, my love,
have I ever given you cause to doubt me? Do you not trust me now? I know
something you don't know...yet. I know that you have never tasted anything like
this. And I am not just talking about the sensation of the food on your tongue,
but the taste you will experience in your soul. Just one bite, Adam, and you
will be changed. It's strange, but you will see things in a whole new light,
everything will change for you, Adam. For us! Please eat!"
He looked around, then at Eve, up to the tree, at
the bush in which he had seen something take cover. He looked toward the hallowed
path by which the Father entered daily. It would be a while before His arrival.
Would He even know?
From the path, his eyes returned to the fruit and
finally rested on his wife. Looking deeply into her eyes, he raised the rich,
red fruit to his mouth. Then, as he bared his teeth, a voice within him
screamed, "DON'T!!!"
And then he bit. As the juice exploded in his mouth,
as Eve looked expectantly to him for approval, something else exploded in his
inner being. This was a new feeling, but something more than a feeling, it was
a knowing, and even more, a nagging. The fruit was good, no doubt about that.
Sweet, tart, a mixture of some his favorites in the garden. As the first bite
made its way down his throat and the first drop fell from his chin, he sensed
that things would never be the same. "What's the big deal?" he
scolded himself. "It's just food. How can a bite of fruit be such a
fuss?" and he took another chomp, as did Eve, from the same fruit. She had
cradled it, along with Adam's hand, firmly in her own hands and bit, while
looking into his eyes.
Now, a new feeling came over him, over both of them.
Not a feeling, but several emotions rolled into one. Each one new, strange and
troubling. If they could have defined them, they would have expressed guilt,
blame, shame, remorse, disgust and most of all, fear.
"Quickly, let's go," he urged her down the
path and away from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. He wanted to be
as far away from the garden's center as possible when the Father paid them His
nightly visit.
"What have we done?" She asked.
"I don't know for sure, but it was not the will
of the Father." Adam replied.
"Adam, I am not comfortable meeting the Father
this evening as I am."
He stopped so suddenly in the path that she ran
right up against him. He turned to her, looked her up and down, taking her in
with his eyes as if he'd never seen her before, not as he was seeing her now,
anyway.
"You are right," he said with a grimace,
"we are not presentable. We are naked, but it's more than that. It's not
just our forms I am embarrassed about, I feel my heart is naked and,
and..." he could not find the words to finish his sentence.
Strange, thought Eve. Her Adam was always so
confident, so in control, so able, and
never at a loss for words. He always
seemed to have a mastery of everything. But now he seemed lost, like what she
imagined a very young human being might act who didn't know how to have
dominion over land and sea and the animals. They both felt as if they had lost
control, like they were moving and thinking in slow motion. It was if the sky
was suddenly a few shades less brilliant, and the deep green of the garden had
faded into a pale verdancy. All confidence was gone. But most of all, they both
sensed fear and guilt, especially concerning their first meeting with the
Father...after the fruit.
"What would that be like? How do we face such a
dreadful task?" She asked herself quietly.
Adam reached for, and picked several large leaves of
a bush nearby. He tore a thin vine from a small tree and fashioned a makeshift
covering for his wife's body, then one for his own.
They donned the strange new outfits which felt
completely inadequate and comfortless.
"It will have to do." He said with a
terseness she had never witnessed from him. "Time is short, we must
prepare for Father's visit."
Adam felt a nudge on the side of his hip, it was
Pascal. He looked down at the ram who hesitatingly looked back at him.
"Odd," he thought, "but I sense a shyness in my little friend,
almost a dread. I wonder why he is acting so strangely." As he reached
down to caress the sheep's head, Pascal shied a bit, then warmed to his
strokes. Adam filed this strange exchange away in his mind. He would revisit
this thought later.
"Sorry little guy, but we have some things to
attend to." It was a lie, another first for either one of them, and a bit
of a stab to the heart, and they left the lamb standing by the path.
As the sun crept toward the horizon, the pair sensed
an imminent confrontation with their Creator. It was still a while before the
appointed time, but they felt the need to find cover in the thick brush, rather
than greet Him face to face as if all was well. They sensed all was anything
but well.
"One piece of fruit," he mused "and
now all this fuss?"
Eve felt a sharp pain on the side of her leg just
below the knee. A branch from the bush bore a very sharp thorn, no more in
length than her eyelash. As it pricked her skin, a slight scratch appeared on
her leg, about as long as her little finger, and then, a small drop of blood
oozed out. She had no idea what this sanguine fluid was that was leaking from
her body like juice from the forbidden tree's fruit. All she knew, it was a
most unpleasant sensation.
The Father's holy presence preceded His arrival, as
always. However, it was not received with delight by the pair as in the past.
Rather, with dread. Next to reach their senses was the light which brightly emanated from Him, and then the sweet savor of His smell and finally, God, in
person, if such could aptly describe His being. He was more spirit, more soul,
than anything else.
As welcome as He was on all other days, today was
different. For the first time, they would rather not have met with their
Friend. If only today He would stay away. If only today they would not have
eaten that cursed fruit!
"Adam!" God called out to both of them. He
always used Adam's name for the married couple. "Where are you?"
They looked at each other as if to ask, "Really? The One Who knows all asks where we are?"
"Well, here we are," Adam whispered to his
wife, "hiding in a bush with prickly thorns making things very
uncomfortable, and with fig leaves covering our nakedness. Yeah, this is where
stealing fruit gets us."
She backhanded his tricep and flashed him a
disapproving frown.
"Adam, Eve, where are you?" He asked
again.
"Over here." He finally mustered. "We were naked and ashamed and afraid you'd see us." They sheepishly exited their cover and humbly
approached their Friend, wondering if He was still such.
"Naked, Really? Who told you that? Did you eat
from the tree that I told you to leave well enough alone?"
Adam took a small step away from Eve, as if
distancing himself. It was only the breadth of three or four hands, but seemed
to Eve the width of the universe. The two that God had made one, were now two
again, separate from one another and separate from God. This was subtle
tragedy. Her countenance fell as if she had just lost a half of herself. But
she was not prepared for the devastation that came with his next words.
"It was the woman! This woman you gave
me," as if the blame for sucking the syrup of the fruit was the fault of
both God and Eve, "she handed me the fruit and she compelled me to eat
it."
For a moment, Eve's mouth hung agape in disbelief
and betrayal. She felt all alone, as if on another planet, separated from God
and her beloved. But then, she steeled herself. "If one can play the blame
game, then two can play as well." She mused.
"It was the snake!" She exclaimed.
"He gave me a speech about how good it was for food and how smart it would
make us. That's why I ate it, that's why I gave it to Adam." She turned
sideways, crossed her arms in a huff, exhaled deeply and pressed her lips into
a pout.
The Lord's anger flashed. His heart broke. As
monumentally tragic as this was for the fallen pair, they had no clue as to the
implications on the cosmos or even on His own relationship with His triuneness.
He ordered the serpent out of hiding to give an account. Now that the truth
about this cataclysmic disaster was discovered, God pronounced a curse upon the
serpent, upon Lucifer, the fallen angel, upon the earth, upon the woman for her
part and upon the man and all of his prodigy for their complicity in sin.
The dastardly deed had been done and consequences meted out. But what came next was the biggest shock of all to Adam. It was
then that the Father called Paschal to His side where, before Adam's incredulous
gaze, God gruesomely slew that which was most precious to the man, His beloved
pet and companion. Yea, even God's own favorite. Blood gushed from the animal
and splattered onto the couple.
"NO!" Adam exclaimed. "Anything but
this!"
With tears emanating in His compassionate eyes, God declared that "only the blood
of a pure, spotless, innocent lamb could suffice to cover your disobedience and
renew our relationship. Where there is no blood shed, there can be no payment
for your sin and no fellowship with me."
Paschal, the beloved lamb, the innocent pet, had been
sacrificed so that Adam and Eve could live.
Had Adam only known, as he fondled that forbidden
fruit, as he debated within his conscience the matters of disobedience and
longing...had he considered, as he bargained in his soul and justified in his
mind what possibilities lie on the other side of his actions...had he only
known that the price required would be more dear to him than he could have ever
imagined...could he, would he, should he have tossed that fruit as far from him
as he could and simply walked away?
But, lust had its way, temptation had its sway. Eve
ate, Adam ate, and they both swallowed the serpent's lie that "it's no big
deal." And from that time until now, without the shedding of blood, there
is no forgiveness of sin.
