Genesis 3 Part 1

Genesis 3:8-9

If I were Eve:

The cool breezes waft against my sun burnt cheeks.  All is silent except the lapping shoreline and the crowing rooster.  The leaves of the trees rustle a bit from the gentle wind.  I am almost completely seduced by the peace and familiarity around me.  I want to immerse in a pretending game that nothing has changed.  I am coddled by the arms of what was about to be lost forever.

“Where are you?”

His voice.

How could such a gentle and loving voice jostle me so abrasively?  It is cold water to my face and I brace myself for a future that pales in comparison to all I have known.  There is only unknown.  I await my sentence as I grit my teeth with tension rising from the pit in my stomach.

I hide.

The love and purity radiates from His presence but instead of comfort, it burns; it itches.  Even so, a conflicted part of me desires to just run into his arms and hope for something same, something familiar, something warm.  I would hope that there would be some part of my dignity there, some part of my identity.

But how can I?

Nevertheless, I know hiding from omnipresence is futile.  In red-handed honesty I reply, “I was hiding because I’m naked and afraid.”