I know you love me because you created me.
You made Adam from the dust of the earth and breathed your breath into his lungs. You didn’t do that with animals or plants or the heavens. Your speaking put those things in place, but you took time to be still and pick up dirt and mold it with your hands to form a man’s body.
Your image. Check.
Your likeness. Check.
The Father, Spirit, and Son working as one to create flesh, bones, nostrils, hair, a heart, lungs, toes and fingers, lips, ears, eyes, and so on in their image.
Personhood is good, Elohim decides.
A person who would touch, smell, see, taste, hear, speak, laugh, cry, flirt, run, sleep, live.
In your sensitive creativity you realized the man needed a help meet suitable for him. So, you performed the first surgery and extracted a rib from the man and completed the rib into what the man would name, “Woman,” who happened to be the divine complement to the man.
You gave them specific instructions of what to eat and what not to eat.
You gave them the reasons why.
You gave them minds to think and in their thinking, they reasoned the serpent’s questioning to be true and your reasons to be false.
After sacrificing the animal to cover their nakedness you drove them out of the garden and put guards in place to prevent their return. You loved them enough to let them keep living even with the consequences. Yet, the command to be fruitful and multiply stood.
So amidst the man’s tough days of gardening in toil and heavy labor to weed, plant, and harvest, the woman birthed in heavy labor a son.
And so their fruitful family tree began…my grandparents way way way way back in the beginning.
I know you love me because you let them live because you knew of my spirit awaiting a body for fulfilling a purpose here at this appointed time in history. That’s the same for anyone taking a peek into reading this journal post, for anyone with skin and bones, for anyone who has ever had a heart beat.