The Creation of Adam: a retelling

I wrote this a couple years ago, so I decided to dust it off and let others enjoy it as much as I have. 

            The first thing he knew was that Someone was blowing.  Not on him, but into him.  After that, he breathed.  A new experience.  Then, he opened his eyes.  He realized that it was morning, but how he knew that, he wasn't sure.  What was morning, anyway?  And who was he?  Why was he here?  He had been created, but by whom?  How?  Why?  Then, he heard something.  It was deep, throaty.  He knew at once it was a chuckle.  Someone was entertained by his curiosity.  He turned toward the sound, and what he saw made his heart jump—not out of fear, but of awe.  Immediately, the man knelt before the Being. 

            "Arise, son," the Being spoke into the man's thoughts.  The Being didn't speak out loud—but the man understood what He meant.  The man obeyed.  "Beloved, you have questions."

            The man nodded. 

            "Then ask.  I know all things.  I created all things."  He paused, then repeated his command: "Ask your questions." 

            "Who are You?"

            "I have several names.  For now, call me Elohim—Creator God."

            "You called me 'son'."  It came out more as a statement than a question, but fortunately, Elohim knew what he meant.

            "Yes.  I made you."

            "You are the One who breathed into me?" 

            Again, Elohim chuckled.  "Yes.  I breathed into you My breath—the breath of life."

            "Who am I?"

            "You are the first man, Adam."

            Adam whispered his name.

"You are also Mine.  I love you," Elohim’s voice almost sounded fierce with passion.  "Never forget this."

"Yes, Father."

Elohim smiled, pleased.  Whether from Adam agreeing immediately to obedience, or being referred to as "Father", or a combination of the two, Adam didn't know.

"Where am I?"

"In the world I created for My pleasure and for your good."

"Why did You make me?"

"Let me show you."

Elohim turned to go, and Adam followed.  Looking at his surroundings, he saw that Elohim had created him in a dirt pile by a lake.  Adam thought it was somewhat strange that he had been a pile of dirt not moments before. 

Elohim led Adam though a beautiful forest.  Ferns, flowers, moss, trees—what a great number of trees!—some bearing fruit, some flowers, some just swaying in the breeze. 

"Are you hungry?" Elohim turned toward Adam with a kind, caring, Fatherly glance.  Adam's stomach growled, and both laughed—and hard.  "Go," Elohim nodded toward the nearest tree, wiping a laughing tear from his eye.  "pick some fruit."

Adam walked over to a stand of trees.  "But, Elohim," he protested, turning back to the Guide, "There are so many types!  Which one?"

Elohim regarded Adam with a knowing look and matching grin.  "You decide."

Adam looked at all of the trees.  He then chose a bright orange ball of a fruit.  It smelled good!  He took a big bite, then looked back at Elohim with shock and disgust written on his face.  The fruit was awful—bitter.  Elohim, to Adam's surprise, threw back his head and laughed; a pleasant laugh Adam would always remember.

"That's an orange!  You're supposed to peel it!"  Elohim guffawed.  "Here, let me show you."  Adam handed the fruit to the Maker, who peeled it expertly and handed it back to the creation.  "Now, try it."  Adam did.  It was as good as it smelled!  He savored his first bites as Elohim led him down a trail. 

In a few minutes, Adam had been led to a clearing.  What he saw surprised him.  A garden wall filled his view.  A wall that was completely natural—tall shrubbery made a perfect encasement and an opening led the way to the inside of it.

"Elohim?"  Adam looked at his Creator, "It's empty, except those two tress far back.  And what does this have to do with my purpose?"

"This is the garden of Eden, in the east of the world.  It is to be your home.  I shall plant it before your eyes.  I want you to work the land and name the animals I have made.  Come!"

Through the opening they passed.  The grass was short, and tickled Adam's feet as they walked inside.  The garden was large—so large that Adam could barely see the hedge on the horizon.  All Adam saw was the two trees he had seen early, plus four rivers that came from one large one outside of the garden. 

"What would you like to see here?"  Elohim communicated, "Any kind of plant."

"What about some of those fruit trees we passed?"

Elohim moved to the right and bent over the ground.  Glancing up, he motioned for Adam to come and stand in front of Him, so he could have a good view.  Elohim loosened the dirt in a large area.  He looked up at Adam.  "Would you like to help?"

Stunned, Adam could only stare at Elohim for a few seconds, dumbfounded.  Of course he wanted to!  What a privilege, indeed!  Adam nodded.

"This is what I want you to do: every three feet or so, I want you to make hills of dirt," He demonstrated, pulling the dirt around to make a hill that was about a foot and a half high.  "Like this."

Adam nodded, and hurried to do what his Maker asked.  Elohim followed behind Adam.  He made a hole with His finger in the top of the hill, then dropped a little thing in the hole.

"What's that?"

"It's a seed.  From this will grow a tree."  Elohim carefully pushed the dirt over the seed and moved on.  In an hour, there was a seed in many hills—over fifty. 

"Now what?"

Elohim looked at their work.  "Be watered."  Adam was again amazed.  It was the first spoken phrase Adam had heard, but he didn't have long to think about it.  A mist sprang from a nearby river.  It rolled over the ground until it reached its Creator.  There, it seemed to bow down at His feet, then dance on.  Before long, all the hills Adam had made were covered with a thick mist. 

The mist dissipated, leaving all the hills extremely moist.  Adam looked at Elohim, who was still looking at the fields of hills.

Again, the Creator spoke.  "Grow!"  Suddenly, little specks of green appeared on all the hills, but they didn't stay specks: they grew.  The specks became stems; out of the stems grew a couple light green leaves and flowers, growing into larger stalks with branches.  Leaves abundantly grew out of the branches.  They grew taller and taller until they finally stopped.  The tops of most of the trees were higher than Adam's head, but he could reach about half-way up most of them.

Still, the changes didn't stop; Adam saw the flowers disappear to make way for new balls of green on every tree. Most of them stayed roundish, but a few stayed green.  Adam saw purples, reds, browns, oranges, yellows, blues, as well as combinations of the colors.  Soon, all growing ceased.  The growing had only taken about ten minutes, and before Adam stretched an orchard.

"Elohim, You…" Adam paused for a moment, looking for the right way to communicate what he wanted to say.  "I'm at a loss for words.  Tell me, though… which ones need to be, um, peeled?"

Elohim looked down at Adam.  Love radiated from His face.  "Don't worry.  I'll let you know before you take a bite."

Elohim turned and looked around.  "What else would you like in this garden?"

"Oh, well," Adam looked down at the ground, thinking. "Tall trees, ferns, vines, palm trees, flowers…"  Adam turned around and gasped.  Everything he'd mentioned was there! 

Elohim turned to Adam with a twinkle in His eyes.  "Anything else?"

Adam shook his head, struck dumb with amazement.  Elohim looked back at the garden.  He caused a few more trees to grow, then nodded.  "It is good," He spoke with satisfaction.  He surveyed the garden one more time.  "Adam, there is something you must see."  The urgency in Elohim's voice made Adam follow Elohim to the middle of the garden.  There were the two trees he had seen earlier.  The one on the right was the most pretty tree Adam had seen so far.  Its leaves, trunk, and fruit were white.  The other was darker.  Its fruit was brown, its leaves were a darker green than any other tree in the garden; its trunk nearly black.  Adam was both curious and suspicious—especially about the second tree.  It made him feel uncomfortable.

"Adam, this tree," Elohim pointed to the darker one, "Is the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.  You may eat of any other tree—I give you every green thing to eat—except this one." Adam looked into Elohim's eyes.  Elohim loved him desperately, that was obvious.  But there was also something else—a longing to keep something from him, to protect the beloved creation.  "You must not eat of it or you will die."

"Die?"

"You will be separated from Me forever."

Adam looked up into the kind eyes of the Creator, which were surprisingly filling with tears, as though the prospect pained Him terribly.  Adam looked at the ground again, considering what he had just heard.  He had only known Elohim for a few short hours, but the thought of being separated from Him was am awful one.

Adam looked up at the Creator and smiled.  "No worries.  I have no desire to be away from You." Elohim looked almost wistfully back at Adam, then also genuinely smiled. 

Breaking Dawn

Morning came early, so early it was dark.  But, more than dark—it was the blackest black I had ever seen.  The black seemed three-dimensional and hopeless: so great, so wide, so immense that I wondered if the sun could even rise; could possibly penetrate the looming darkness.

            Cautiously, a strip of blue appeared slightly above the horizon, but the black still reigned on the horizon—certain of its victory over the light.  Slowly, almost painfully, the blue spread up and became lighter.  However, the horizon was still dark.  As I watched the blue expand, I was unaware of the purple overcoming the blackness.  When I finally noticed it, the purple was still somewhat dark, as though the black was desperately trying to keep its hold over the horizon.  Gradually, though, the black surrendered to the purple; and the purple, to accomplish the greater goals of the sun, bowed to the pink.

            Once the pink held the horizon with a gentle yet firm touch, it directed the sky, leading it the way a conductor would direct a symphony.  Yellow flowed peacefully above the pink, and then moved up in altitude, making the clouds look as though they floated on a sea of gold, the excitement and love of the pink glowing on the white clouds.  The purple slid back in again, glad to return to the picture.  There they stayed for what seemed like a long time: pink closest to the horizon, then purple, yellow and blue expanding to the whole sky.

            Then the sun carefully peaked over the horizon.  When he realized that the darkness was gone, he rose.  One glance from his brilliant red gaze chased every color other than blue away.  Compared to the rest of the sunrise, the sun rose quickly in his red glory, eventually trading his red cape for a golden one.  Soon his yellow triumph, which would last the entire day, was too exuberant to look at.

            Our lives, at times, are like this sunrise.  Life seems extremely dark: blackness that is three-dimensional and can be felt; blackness the hovers maliciously, laughing at our hopelessness.  Then, when we don't know how it could get darker, it somehow does.  We wallow in despair wondering how—if—the sun can rise through the gloom.

            But then, life brightens.  Not in the most critical area, but yet hope rises.  We fear to let it rise to high, knowing full well life could grow gloomy and desolate again.  As we watch the minor situations improve, we are unaware that the most serious situation is brightening. 

            When we finally notice that God is moving, He has already done so much!  Slowly, meticulously, He gives us hopeful color, only to take it away again—to allow something better to flow into our lives in its place.  Carefully, he changes our circumstances for our better and to His glory and praise.  Soon, He removes all doubt, remorse, and fear.  He appears to us, allowing us to share in His victory.  His triumph and glory are so great that we can't look at Him; merely fall down in worship before Him.