This is our present and constant hope. We’re not alone in our exile; we join in the yearning of our forefathers since the beginning of creation. We have lost our home but not our family. We’re not in the garden, so we lament. But while we suffer, we do so in the presence of him who was pierced to bring us back to God.
He drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and a flaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life. (Gen. 3:24)
The waves were strong but safe. The sargassum near the shore of our Airbnb meant we had to look for somewhere else to swim, so we found a beautiful beach a mile or two from our rental. The white sand and turquoise water more than made up for the lack of accommodation.
I was soaking it all in, watching my family enjoy an unforgettable day in the sun. However, I had to stay behind to look after the bags. This was a mostly unspoiled beach, away from the touristy part of Punta Cana. There was no security around the premises, and I know enough stories of friends wrapping up a great swim only to find their things stolen.
I live in the Dominican Republic, a small country in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. No matter where I go on our island, there’s a beautiful beach a quick drive away—some of them counted among the best in the world, boasting homes the biggest celebrities frequent. And yet, while the beach is nearby and inexpensive, I hardly ever go.
The reason is exactly what you’d expect: life gets in the way. We have three young kids with school and activities to attend. We have jobs. We have dogs. What’s more, I’m a pastor. We planted a church in 2022 that the Lord has blessed enormously, and the blessings of ministry usually result in more ministry. Preaching, yes, but also counseling and administration and meetings and visitations.
I need to be honest with you: I’m not a fan of the beach. I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere. But my family loves the beach, my wife especially. And if I find good shade and get to sit down with a good book and a cool breeze, I can enjoy it too. Over the years, we’ve made good memories at the beach.
I do regret not going more often. And I long for days gone by.
In this longing, I join our forebears, Adam and Eve. They, too, looked back at a time of beauty, safety, and companionship. Yet they also experienced, however briefly, what I haven’t—a life with no death, a world without regret and without deceit. We don’t live in that world, but we do live under the same Ruler, so our forebears give us the first example of life under exile.
Our First Home
The beginning of Genesis reads as if nothing could go wrong. In Genesis 1, God speaks, matter takes shape, and the universe falls into place. Yet suddenly, near the end of the chapter, the pace changes. God speaks reality into existence, then God speaks with humanity (v. 28), showcasing a relationship with humankind. After Genesis 1 details the forming, organizing, and establishing of the earth and the land and the sky and the sea, with all their beauty and splendor, the second chapter is dedicated fully to the creation of Adam and Eve.
In the garden, at the outset of civilization, man and woman are together—truly together: “The man and his wife were both naked and were not ashamed” (2:25). In them, the seed of all mankind was found. They were to “be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth” (1:28). All creation would be shepherded as they exercised “dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth” (v. 28). What’s more, they could have their fill and sustenance from creation (vv. 29–30).
God’s plan was in motion. Through his Word, he’s Creator of all. And through his words, he engages his image-bearers (v. 26). Consequently, Adam and Eve can speak words of faithfulness and companionship and commitment (2:23). Truly, everything God made was very good (1:31). A garden with no sin, no death, no defiance.
This is the world we were made to inhabit. Though our minds have no recollection of our creation and our brains have no memories of our first home, we were made from Eden’s dust (2:7). We were created for beauty and splendor, for companionship and commitment, and for a close relationship with the Creator.
The beginning of Genesis reads like nothing could go wrong in God’s world. But we live in a world where the most perfect beaches are filled with sargassum. You go out for a swim and your things can get stolen. The sun is hot, sand is coarse, and even if you find the best possible job and live in the most developed nation in the world, you’re one phone call away from your whole life falling apart.
Beginning of the Yearn
As Genesis 3 brings a new character into the conversation, we’re immediately brought down to a reality more like ours. The crafty Serpent lures the woman into conversation. Familiarity with the scene keeps us from grasping the gravity of what’s happening. God’s goodness and provision are being questioned. The very means of creation—his Word—is indicted. The Creator is judged by his creation.
Eve listens and is deceived. Adam joins her, and all humanity falls into temptation and sin:
So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. (vv. 6–7)
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