Who Told You That You Were Naked?

Genesis 3:8-11

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. Then the Lord God called to Adam and said to him, “Where are you?” So he said, “I heard Your voice in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; and I hid myself.” And He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree of which I commanded you that you should not eat?”

When I think back about my debate with Mr. and Mrs. Blank, I am continually impressed—or maybe the word is "depressed"—by the difficulty of overcoming a doctrinal argument based on information from outside Scripture, when the person arguing it is convinced that he is coloring within the lines of "Scripture Interprets Scripture" and "Sola Scriptura." How do you prove to that person that it is his position, and not yours, that imports data from human philosophy, reason, and experience? How, for that matter, can you be sure? A perhaps discouraging part of the answer is that you can't really expect to change anyone's convictions, much less his inmost heart, by rational arguments or empirical evidence. A man's (or woman's) mind, once formed, cannot easily be re-formed. In spiritual matters, this kind only comes out by prayer and fasting—I mean to say, by the power of the Holy Spirit. We poor, frail, stumbling, bumbling creatures can only proclaim, can only teach, can only deliver what has been delivered to us, and wait to see what the Lord makes of it.

There is comfort in this, to be sure. It means that the teacher, proclaimer, or delivery-man has no real power in himself, and therefore he has no real responsibility over the results. As long as he is faithful in what he teaches, proclaims, or delivers, he is doing all that the Lord expects of him. He does not need to torture himself, in hindsight or in foresight, over whether anyone receives his message and is changed by it. The results are in God's hands.

But there is also, running through all this, a streak of pain. When one has delved as deeply into the text as one can, and done or said all that can be done or said, it is painful to see it having no effect. It is painful to see someone you care about being led astray by vain thoughts, by teachings that undermine the simplicity of faith. It is galling to see the Word of God, which you love and serve, being twisted and made of no effect. And a feeling of helplessness is at the bottom of it all, when in spite of all your efforts to gain an open door to the word of Christ, the other person's mind remains resolutely closed.

This takes my mind back to the very first recorded word of rebuke that the Lord addressed to sinful man: "Who told you that you were naked?" (Genesis 3:11). Adam and Eve had listened to the voice of the serpent. They had entertained his advice to try the fruit God had forbidden them to eat. They had considered his suggestion that it would make them wise to a difference between good and evil. They had, for the first time, conceived the possibility of a good that was not given by God, an alternative to what He had designed for them. The seed of evil was planted in them the moment that thought entered their hearts, even before their teeth cut into the flesh of that fruit. It could not be unthought. It would go on to influence the form of every thought after that.

Already, the moment after they ate the forbidden fruit, it occurred to them that they were naked. Already, they perceived their lack of something that, only a moment before, they had never conceived of needing or wanting. Already, they began to judge what was good and what was evil by lights other than the Word of God. Was it their empirical observation that they had no clothes on? Perhaps; but surely this was no great news to them, and how could they miss something that had never entered their minds before? Was it their sensory experience of tender skin exposed to a chilly draft? Perhaps; but surely the timetable of antediluvian climate change did not progress that quickly! Was this sudden awareness of their nakedness a psychological side-effect of a guilty conscience? Perhaps, but observe how quickly the first couple moved onto the track of excuses and self-justification (Genesis 3:12-13). Perhaps, on the contrary, their sudden shame was a reproach not on themselves, but on their Creator who had overlooked their (lately discovered) need for a publicly presentable outfit. Perhaps it was all part of the package the serpent had sold them—the "listen to a voice other than God's" package—the "decide for yourselves what is good and what is evil" package—the same package out of which we are still taking things, new and old, and insinuating them into the Word of God as we know it.

God's question in Genesis 3:11 is like the question I wanted the Blanks to consider: "Where are you getting this from?" Who gave you the distorted, tinted, clouded lens through which you are reading Scripture? From where did this filter come, through which you are straining the Word of God? Who told you that with these lenses and filters on, from whomever and wherever they may have come, you were still gazing upon the naked text? Who told you that with this veil of Moses over your eyes, or in this dark mirror, you would see God and His things clearly? Who led you to believe that this was Scripture Alone?

Dear Father in heaven, bring Your powerful Spirit to bear on our shuttered and bolted minds, so that Your Word might break through. Loosen the roots of our transitory feelings and experiences, our pet ideas, the thoughts and reasonings of men, and especially the suggestions of the evil one, so that the Word of Your Son, Christ Jesus, may be planted in their place, take root, and bear fruit abundantly. In His name, Amen.

The Magician King

The Magician King
by Lev Grossman
Recommended Ages: 14+

The Magicians introduced us to Quentin Coldwater, a young American whose heart belongs in a Narnia-like world of juvenile fantasy novels called Fillory. When Quentin gets into an exclusive school called Brakebills (think: a college-level Hogwarts in upstate New York), he learns the dangerous art magic, then joins several of his buddies on a journey that takes them to the very real world of Fillory. And still happiness eludes him. That is all background to this book, in which Quentin and friends delve further into a world proving that magic and adventure are no substitute for a strong course of antidepressants.

The chapters of The Magician King alternate between two storylines. In the one that gives the book its title, Quentin grows restless on the throne of Fillory, which he shares with three other Brakebills alumni. Convinced that he needs a quest, or some kind of adventure, more than the easy life of a pampered royal, he sails out to the edge of the known world just to see what is there. What he finds is a portal back to the Real World, from which he and his troubled friend Julia make a narrow escape back into Fillory. But their adventure has just started. Now it seems the magic is being taken away from all the worlds, and in Fillory's case that means the end of the world. Quentin started it all by getting the attention of the powers behind the magic; now it is his quest, more than anyone else's, to seek the seven keys that will keep magic and Fillory alive.

Meanwhile, the book also fills us in on Julia's background in magic. While the previous book focused on how Quentin learned the art in the (more or less) safe environment of Brakebills, alternating chapters of this book show us how Julia made do in the harsh, painful world of hedge magic. Her search for magical enlightenment takes her through many dark places, in the outside world as well as in her own heart. By the time she joins up with Quentin again, she has begun a transformation that will only be completed when her oldest friend makes the ultimate sacrifice for her. And that, if I can say so without spoiling everything for you, is why this book takes such a shockingly tragic turn at the end—the type of ending that, were there not hope of another installment yet to come, might lead to a rise in Zoloft prescriptions.

I am happy to say, that hope exists. This sequel to The Magicians will soon (in August 2014) become the middle installment of a trilogy. Look for Book 3, The Magician's Land, now available for pre-order. Meanwhile, you can enjoy this dark, emotionally deep, unflinchingly honest work of contemporary fantasy with the guilt-free assurance that it also measures up as serious literature. Often bawdy (Adult Content Warning!), sometimes eerie (Occult Content Warning!), full of strange creatures and danger and action and weirdness and gut-shaking comedy, it's the full package—rounded off by a message of solidarity with those suffering from chronic mental illness. It's Narnia for the grown-up and disillusioned—It's Harry Potter for the clinically depressed—and it doesn't offer easy (i.e., fake) answers.

45. Christmas Hymn for the Unborn

O blessed birth, Love's condescension,
That made the womb a holy place;
Fulfillment of God's kind intention,
Bestowing favor on our race:
What peace is ours, what comfort, joy,
All swaddled with this lovely Boy!

'Twas not her reason, will, or merit
That filled the Virgin full of grace,
But that which was of God the Spirit,
Express from God's most holy face:
Behold, the temple God has built
To purge mankind of shame and guilt!

That lady ran to greet another,
Her hail exuberantly flung;
The prophet leapt within his mother
And inspiration to her tongue:
"Behold how God deals graciously!
My unborn Savior visits me!"

O gentle Savior of all mortals
Who, saving You, are born in sin,
We who have passed the world's first portals
Now likewise plead for those within:
You who the womb deigned not to scorn,
Have mercy on those yet unborn!

Such honor, Christ, Your birth once granted
To every stock and state of men;
Now that in death Your flag is planted,
Restore life's dignity again!
Since You once died that all might live,
Stay those who kill! Rebuke! Forgive!

Teach us to cherish young and old, Lord,
Barren or fertile, strong or weak;
Let all Your lambs be gathered fold-ward,
And make their shepherds bold to speak
That, knowing You, incarnate Love,
They be reborn, born from above!

Unspoken

Unspoken
by Sarah Rees Brennan
Recommended Ages: 14+

Book 1 of "The Lynburn Legacy" introduces us to Kami Glass, a teenaged girl of mixed Japanese and English ancestry who lives in the Cotswolds village of Sorry-in-the-Vale. Since she was a baby, Kami has had an imaginary friend named Jared who talks to her in her head, telling her all about his make-believe life in America. Even into high school she continues to converse with this secret voice, though she has increasingly learned to hide it from her concerned parents and her weirded-out friends. Then one day the surviving members of the Lynburn family, the old lords of the manor, come back into town—and one of them turns out to be a boy named Jared, who grew up in America believing that the voice in his head was an imaginary friend named Kami.

It turns out to be kind of scary to discover that the voice in your head is a real person, sharing your thoughts and feelings from half a world away. Once she starts getting to know the real Jared, Kami isn't so sure she wants to share head-space with him. The real Jared comes across as a sullen loner, always getting into trouble and barely tolerated even by his mother, uncle, aunt, and cousin. On the other hand, having a sturdy young fellow ready to run to your rescue the moment you even think you're in danger proves handy when, for example, somebody pushes Kami down a well.

Kami's lifelong hometown—a quiet place seemingly without secrets—suddenly reveals itself to be a dangerous place. A place where animals are brutally sacrificed in the woods, and where magic is at work—magic even darker and more disturbing than whatever links Kami and Jared. Now both youngsters must work out just what it means that neither of them can truly hide from the other, and whether they really want to go on this way. They seem to have a choice about it. But the people who offer them the choice also seem to have a purpose of their own: a hunger for power that will not stop short even of murder.

Kami, Jared, and their family, friends, and neighbors, fill out a cast of interesting and believable characters—every one of whom is, at some point, a plausible suspect in a creepy mystery involving sorcery, sacrifice, and a grim type of slavery. While the plot is thrilling and terribly serious, the moment-by-moment details are fraught with laugh-out-loud humor and romantic undercurrents that, finally, flow around a surprisingly dark and tragic bend. But don't bail out now. The Lynburn Legacy continues in a second book, the recently-released Untold. Sarah Rees Brennan is also the author of the Demon Lexicon trilogy and, with Justine Larbalestier, the teen-vampire novel Team Human.

Hold Me Closer, Necromancer

Hold Me Closer, Necromancer
by Lish McBride
Recommended Ages: 14+

Even though Samhain is not pronounced anything like how it looks, somehow young Samhain Corvus LaCroix has picked up the nickname Sam, along with a mediocre career path based on dropping out of college and working at a burger joint. He shares a one-bedroom apartment with his buddies Ramon and Frank (who sleep on the couch and the living room floor, respectively), and has zero love-life in spite of working with a hot number named Brooke and living next door to a Betty White type who always encourages him to walk on the wild side. Nevertheless, Sam only begins to suss out what the wild side is when an irate customer picks him up by his neck and demands to know where he gets off being an unregistered necromancer. This is news to Sam, who had no clue that magic even existed. But the tough customer ought to know; he is none other than Douglas Montgomery, the necromancer who presides over Seattle's Council of magic-users and magical beings.

Douglas has Sam roughed up by a supernatural goon, threatens to exterminate him if he doesn't become a good little apprentice, and gives him one week to think about it. Then, just to drive the point home, he has Brooke's head delivered to Sam's apartment in a brown-paper-wrapped box. Murdering one of his best friends would be a strong enough message, indeed. But Douglas goes even further, by bringing Brooke's severed head back to life. You know, like a necromancer would do.

Understandably, Sam and his friends are freaked out. But taking care of a talking, bodiless head is now the least of their troubles. They feel the urgency of finding out how Sam managed to reach college age without realizing that he can see dead people and do magic. Their sleuthing has a built-in time limit, and there aren't many people Sam can turn to for information. Sure, his mother has secrets. His estranged father's side of the family may hold even more. But just as he finds another necromancer to reach out to—one who is not under Douglas's control—the fiend bumps up the time-table even more. Now Sam finds himself trapped in the middle of a gruesome experiment involving a cute werewolf girl, zombies, waffle-craving grim reaper in saddle shoes, and dark incantations powered by blood and death. As Sam's friends and family race to the rescue, time is quickly running out for both him and his lupine cellmate.

This book is a fabulous beginning to a promising new series. Already this includes is a second book, titled Necromancing the Stone, as well as a stand-alone short story called Necromancer. If they live up to the promise of this debut, they are most certainly worth seeing. I tore through this book in no time, laughing heartily at its wry humor, appreciating the subtly adult romantic subplot, and steering my way through the intense action sequences with a white-knuckled grip. I see a lot of promise in this modern-day fantasy world, and in an up-and-coming author whose other work includes a unicorn novel titled Heads Will Roll.

44. Maundy Thursday Hymn

I know, it's a little out of season. But I just came across the fragment of this hymn that I must have written years ago, and I had to see it through! The relevant Bible passages are John 13:1-12; Isaiah 34:4; and Daniel 12:3. I didn't have a tune in mind while writing this, but a quick check of my "master metrical index of anglophone Lutheran hymnals" turns up a 16th-century tune called OLD 107TH that I think would do nicely.

Lord, on the night You were betrayed,
You proved our faithful Friend;
Did not desert Your own, but stayed
And loved them to the end;
Then, holding all things in Your hand,
In Your most holy feast
Obeyed the Father's stern command
And, stooping, served the least.

You bathed Your children's wandering feet,
Lord, Master of all men,
Who journeyed from God’s mercy-seat
And now turned back again.
You took the ewer, basin, cloth,
And acting as their slave,
Girded Yourself and, kneeling, both
Began to teach and lave.

When Peter saw what was afoot,
Ashamed, he took it ill.
You said, “You have not understood
What I do—but you will.”
When he refused, You said, “Unless
I wash you, you are lost.”
“My head as well,” in his distress,
He begged his kneeling host.

But You, Lord, called already clean
Those You had washed—indeed,
A cleanliness within, unseen,
Sufficient to their need.
Your word and water even now
Combine to cleanse and save:
Not as men understand, but how
You freely choose to lave.

“Do you know what I’ve done to you?”
You asked the awestruck twelve.
“What Lord and Master else would do
What you have seen yourselves?
The path that I have shown you, walk,
And serve with bondage sweet;
For where the Shepherd goes, the flock
Must trail His wounded feet.

“As I, your Lord, have served you well,”
You then went on to say,
“So serve each other while you dwell
Upon My servant way.
If you lead many a footsore soul
Onto this path of Mine,
You, when the sky shuts like a scroll,
Shall like the planets shine.”

We thank You now, foot-washing Lord,
Who served and made us clean,
For present peace no ear has heard,
Tongue uttered, or eye seen.
Implant in us a mind like Yours,
That stooped and loved and bled;
Chart in us such a servant course,
To live in You, our Head!

43. Hymn of Grief

Here is my attempt to flesh out that "Funeral Hymn Fragment" from my previous post. Before you complain that it's too long, remember that there are more uses for a hymn than being sung in church.

O Christ, You know: to live
Is good; to die is best.
For while we here yet strive,
Those yonder taste Your rest.

They run ahead to joys
Whereof our hope is keen.
We grope with grief-dimmed eyes;
They blessed light have seen.¹

Their sicknesses are healed,
While yet we suffer more;
Their happiness is sealed;
We yet are sad and sore.

They’ve run their race and won
The crown life in heaven;
We’ve many miles to run,
Still sinful, though forgiven.

Those perfect ones now live,
Yet we remain to die;
While in Your arms they thrive,
Regretting them, we sigh.

They still are whom we love,
Though Your love is the best;
While they have passed above,
Dare we begrudge their rest?

Your love for them and us
Excels all in our heart;
Dare we resent You thus
For drawing us apart?

For they have but arrived
Where we shall join them soon,
And all shall be revived
By You, for bane or boon.

Till then, help us to strive
For their victorious rest!
Though dying, yet alive,
Death’s ramparts we invest.

They who have passed beyond
Unite with us to pray:
How long must we, how long
Endure this evil day?

Amen! Come quickly, Lord!
Come, wipe away all tears.
We long to be restored;
Our dawn of freedom nears.

---

¹This stanza went through several versions. This version is closer to my original concept for the stanza, except with a less glaring blip in the rhyme scheme. My initial attempt to resolve this conflict was the less satisfactory
They run forth to delight
Whereof our hope is keen.
We grope behind in night;
Your brightness they have seen.