Thoughts on Hebrews: God'd Rest, Part 5

Let’s not leave the garden just yet.

But first remember, the Spirit of the Lord said,

Today, if you hear his voice do not harden your hearts as you did in the rebellion.

Here, in this post, I want to focus on “hear his voice” and look first at various references to hearing in the garden as recorded in Genesis 3:

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?” And he said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.”

The man heard His voice. Has he hardened his heart yet? Not quite yet. He is afraid

In the last post I pointed out that God first asked a question to bring the man to himself: Adam, where are you?. God did not put him on trial, made no judgments, at first. He asked the man a question God fully knew the answer to. Rather than chide, God is calling the man to repent.

The man is confronted with another crisis of faith: is God good? Can he see the question has no condemnation in it? It’s a solicitation to open his heart to God and to trust His mercy, which God is clearly evidencing by the complete lack of thunderbolts, lightening, or any other figure of wrath.

In fact, this is not much different that Jesus telling the Samaritan woman to go fetch her husband? Or Jesus saying to Simon the Pharisee, “Simon, I have something to tell you.” These are crossroads where faith and unbelief intersect—there is no third rail. Confronted by God, as we all are at various times, and in various ways, you will either proceed from that crossroads in faith, stronger faith, or you will travel away from it in greater unbelief. You heart will be hardened towards Him.

In any event, back to the man. He too is at a crossroads, another one, but equally important. And the crisis for him truly is whether he will harden his heart in affirming his prior decision to disobey God and to see the command as something other than God’s love.

His hiding is not a good start. By hiding, the man is showing us what he thinks about God’s character, and he unfortunately continues down a miserable path of misunderstanding God’s motivation in the command. To be clear, he is demeaning all the earlier overtures of love that God had expressed. He does not trust God, when he should have not trusted himself. In hiding, the man is still trusting his judgments over the invitation of God to confess and to repent.

In this instant, the man has to exercise his judgment again; he has to determine how to answer God’s question—honestly, trusting the mercy and judgments of a good God, or dishonestly. That he was hiding physically suggests he will hide morally. And he does. The man is less than forthright. He does not say, “I hid because I sinned against you grievously, and I have profaned this wonderful place you have created for us to dwell together. I am lost to myself, and to you; and I don’t know how to get back to you—my heart is far from you.” Oh, imagine if he had done that. Imagine if Cain had that same broken and contrite heart. Or Judas Iscariot. The world would be a much different place.

Instead, the man says, “I am afraid of you because I am naked.” That’s simply a lie, at best a misdirection. And in the telling of it is a hardening—the man is a couple steps further down the road from the act of hiding.

God does not blast the man out his skin, does he? No, He asks another question, “who told you you were naked?” Let’s stop here for a moment and use the language of hearing and reframe the question, “what have you heard (or who have you listened to)?”

This second question is yet another chance afforded the man to confess and to repent.

I am reminded of Jesus’ restoration of Peter on the shore of the Galilee, next to coals, over which Jesus himself, resurrected as he was, was cooking some fish for his disciples. He asked Peter three questions. The Greek is quite compelling—not every translation captures it—and you will see as Jesus asks Peter questions he will come to himself. He does not harden his heart; he breaks it, and he abandons his former presumption (“I would die for you.”).

Roughly translated, Jesus asks him, “Simon, do you love me with God’s love?” To which Peter answers, “I am fond of you, affectionate towards you.” Jesus asks again, “Simon, do you love me with God’s love?” Peter answers again, “I am fond of you, affectionate towards you.” Jesus asks a final question, “Simon, are you fond of me, affectionate towards me?” Peter exclaims, “Lord, you know all things; you know I am fond of you.” There you have it; it’s enough for Jesus. The Lord accepts what we can offer, however small so long as its genuine. Widow’s mite? Doesn’t matter. It’s the heart back of it that matters.

The man doesn’t allow the Lord to lead him to repentance. He fails to see the kindness of the Lord. He fails us all, and as my good friend R. Simcox points out, he imputes a wrong motive to God; he impugns God’s character: “The woman whom you gave to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree, and I ate.”

What’s he done? The man has hardened his heart. Cain does it when God asks him, “why are you crestfallen? Don’t you know if you do well, you will be accepted?” Esau does it when he asks himself, “what is a birthright to me?” Judas Iscariot does it when Jesus answers the question John presented, “who will betray you” and the Lord hands him the bread dipped in the wine.

So, since it is still Today, we too find ourselves on the horns of a dilemma just like these were.

Image courtesy of Unsplash and Lechon Kirb