The Lord God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed
them. (Genesis
3:21)
In fact, the law requires that
nearly everything be cleansed with blood, and without the shedding of blood there
is no forgiveness.
(Hebrews 9:22)
In the book, Life Without Lack, Dallas
Willard provides a list of passages on which to meditate on the subject of God’s
provision for us. The first is today’s passage. When he discussed this passage
in the book, he pointed out that physical nakedness wasn’t really the issue. Failure
was the issue. They had disobeyed and they knew it. They had lost the “spiritual
clothing” of purity, innocence, and relation with God that they had worn from their
creation and whether they didn’t have the courage, or they didn’t have the
words to express that idea, they turned to the fact of their physical nakedness
as their explanation and excuse for hiding.
God replaced the fig leaves they’d stitched together with animal skins. This is the first animal sacrifice made for sin in Scripture, and brings us immediately to the idea that without the sacrificing of blood, there is forgiveness. Sin separates. Sin kills. It’s my suspicion that the animals killed to make those cloths – whether sheep or not – were well-known to Adam and Eve. They lost a friend or two in to gain clothing.
One of the keys in the book is the idea that we must come to God as we are: naked or not, dirty or clean, hopeful or ashamed, angry or happy… God knows anyway, so pretending is childish. Instead, we should be childlike, running to Him with every scraped knee, every dandelion, ever pain, every joy. This is one of the things I like about David in the Psalms. He goes running to God when he wants to suck his thumb and cry like a baby, when he wants to beat the living daylights out of someone, when he wants God to rescue him, when he wants God to shatter the teeth of his enemy, when he wants to be held by God, when he wants to celebrate – and just about anywhere in between those extremes. One of the things that God used David to teach me is that God isn’t afraid of my anger. He can handle it whether it’s directed at Him, or at others.
Over the years, I think I’ve learned to handle my anger with God better as a result of these lessons. I can go to God and say, “God, I’m angry with You. I really don’t want to talk to You at the moment, perhaps never again. I’d really rather You didn’t exist … but You do exist, and my anger is temporary. Let’s discuss the issue so I can get past my anger and restore our fellowship.”
For some, that prayer may sound like sacrilege. How dare I speak to God so? For others, it might sound pretty tame. On a scale of one to ten, that expression of anger may sound like a three. It’s not quite a “Would you mind if I got upset a little with You, Lord?” but it may not sound quite like I’m cursing God with a raised fist. However, aren’t I? Isn’t preferring He didn’t exist effectively telling Him to drop dead? The language might seem mild, but the attitude is not. But God can take it.
The other issue that this passage raises is that God meets needs – but the real need (forgiveness, atonement) and the felt (clothing.) How He does this differs from person to person and need to need. He is, after all, God, and not required to follow a specific procedural handbook when it comes to these things. As the saying goes, “Sometimes He calms the storm, sometimes He calms the child.” And other times, He does something else.
God replaced the fig leaves they’d stitched together with animal skins. This is the first animal sacrifice made for sin in Scripture, and brings us immediately to the idea that without the sacrificing of blood, there is forgiveness. Sin separates. Sin kills. It’s my suspicion that the animals killed to make those cloths – whether sheep or not – were well-known to Adam and Eve. They lost a friend or two in to gain clothing.
One of the keys in the book is the idea that we must come to God as we are: naked or not, dirty or clean, hopeful or ashamed, angry or happy… God knows anyway, so pretending is childish. Instead, we should be childlike, running to Him with every scraped knee, every dandelion, ever pain, every joy. This is one of the things I like about David in the Psalms. He goes running to God when he wants to suck his thumb and cry like a baby, when he wants to beat the living daylights out of someone, when he wants God to rescue him, when he wants God to shatter the teeth of his enemy, when he wants to be held by God, when he wants to celebrate – and just about anywhere in between those extremes. One of the things that God used David to teach me is that God isn’t afraid of my anger. He can handle it whether it’s directed at Him, or at others.
Over the years, I think I’ve learned to handle my anger with God better as a result of these lessons. I can go to God and say, “God, I’m angry with You. I really don’t want to talk to You at the moment, perhaps never again. I’d really rather You didn’t exist … but You do exist, and my anger is temporary. Let’s discuss the issue so I can get past my anger and restore our fellowship.”
For some, that prayer may sound like sacrilege. How dare I speak to God so? For others, it might sound pretty tame. On a scale of one to ten, that expression of anger may sound like a three. It’s not quite a “Would you mind if I got upset a little with You, Lord?” but it may not sound quite like I’m cursing God with a raised fist. However, aren’t I? Isn’t preferring He didn’t exist effectively telling Him to drop dead? The language might seem mild, but the attitude is not. But God can take it.
The other issue that this passage raises is that God meets needs – but the real need (forgiveness, atonement) and the felt (clothing.) How He does this differs from person to person and need to need. He is, after all, God, and not required to follow a specific procedural handbook when it comes to these things. As the saying goes, “Sometimes He calms the storm, sometimes He calms the child.” And other times, He does something else.
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