The summer afternoon shower was brief and gentle. The sun blazed out again, but the clouds dissolved away too quickly to provide a rainbow. I pulled back the curtains from the patio door and looked out into the back yard. The male and female goldfinch were at the bird bath, along with a couple of sparrows. Across the lawn, at the edge of the neighboring park, a doe and two spotted fawns were cautiously returning to their free lunch under the apple trees. I wondered if the fox would show up for her weekly visit.
As quietly as I could, I slid the door open and stepped across the patio onto the grass. Normally, my appearance would send the animals into hiding, but this time they stayed where they were with hardly a glance in my direction. I continued toward the park with what I imagined was a stealthy and steady pace.
Looking down at my feet, I noticed something unusual. My unending battle with dandelions and crab grass seemed to be won. There were no weeds at all. And the grass looked different, too. It was a lighter green and seemed wilder, with patches of springy moss here and there.
At the path entering the park's grove, I turned to look around. My house was no longer there. The whole neighborhood had vanished. Instead, I saw through a light haze a sparsely wooded area. The trees were not the maples, ash, and oak trees I was used to, but more tropical: palm trees, rubber trees, and a big magnolia tree. I have always loved the stories about doors opening into magical worlds. I often wonder what it would be like to go back in time, or to visit exotic places by magic. Was this real? It didn't seem like an imaginary adventure or a dream. Everything looked like solid reality. Either way, I had to go forward.
The trees closed around me as I walked on, but it was not like a jungle. It felt like a designed garden on a medieval estate. Flower beds were placed in an orderly fashion. Many of the trees had fruit ripening--dates, figs, pears. After a short hesitation, I assumed I was free to eat and picked an orange. It was not seedless like I was used to, but very sweet.
After several minutes a clearing opened before me. I paused to look before stepping into it. I heard the sound of a man's voice, but couldn't make out the words. I moved to the left carefully. Through the drooping branches of a willow tree I got a glimpse of the speaker with his back to me. To my left I saw a parade of various animals moving away from him--big animals both domesticated and wild. What was curious to me was that some of them I knew to be extinct in my world. To my right was another line of small creatures approaching the man, then a line of insects--some flying and some crawling on the ground. As each one stopped in front of him, he would say one or two words to it, and it would move away.
Taking a few steps closer, I saw a small black insect alight on his outstretched hand. Then he spoke the first word I actually understood, "Fly." It flew away, but I shivered with the realization that he was not giving it a command but a name.
I knew it couldn't be actually happening, but it seemed that I had time-traveled to the garden of Eden and was watching Adam naming the animals. The last of the insects he named "mosquito," and I silently wished he would squash it, knowing the future problems mosquitoes would bring to the world.
The task was completed. No more animals came. Adam, if that was truly who he was, put his hands on his hips and looked around. As he turned in my direction, I saw that he smiled at seeing the animals exploring their new world, but didn't seem happy or content. His eyes searched back and forth several times. Then he sighed.
I decided that, since I was there, maybe I was supposed to do or say something. I cleared my throat softly and stepped out from behind the willow tree, walking towards Adam. I was a bit embarrassed to be fully clothed in such a scene of natural innocence.
Adam watched me approach without any indication of surprise. Perhaps he had not lived long enough to have any expectations and was able to take any situation as normal. He tilted his head to the right and looked me up and down. "Jerry?" he said with a hint of a question in his voice.
"That's the name my parents gave me when I was born," I replied, "but I didn't expect you to know me."
"I don't know what you mean by 'parents' or 'born,' but it is obvious that you are Jerry."
I smiled and replied, "You must be Adam. If you really want an explanation of those strange words, I can tell you about parents and the birth of children, but I expect you will find out soon anyway."
"Yes, I am Adam," he assured me. "The Lord God gave me the job of giving names to all the animals he created. They are wonderful in their diversity and yet have a lot in common with each other. But, none of them is much like me. Or, like you. I'm so happy to meet you, Jerry. Until you showed up, I didn't feel like I belonged here. It was pretty lonely."
"Well, I'm not . . . That is, I think I can't stay," I stammered. "I realize that you are one of a kind among all these animals, but the Lord God will provide that for you, too. You will have a perfect match. And I assure you that you have a very important place here.
"Like I said, I'm just visiting. I live in the future, in fact, I am one of your own descendants--sorry, I suppose that doesn't mean much to you either. But I have read your story in the book God will give us. Is the Lord God here?"
"Yes, he is here somewhere," Adam said with a wave of his hand. "God is not material like we are, or the animals. So, it is not always easy to see him in a physical way."
"The Lord God will provide a visible and physical manifestation of himself eventually also," I promised. "You have probably already noticed that he thinks of everything. Could you tell me about some of these animals?" Adam proceeded to tell me the names of those close to us: the squirrel on the branch above us, the black bear waddling into a blueberry patch, a chicken stretching its wings and clucking.
I looked across the clearing and saw a large, tawny-colored beast about to disappear behind a bush. "What animal is that going behind the bush?" I asked, pointing in its direction. My own guess was that it was a cougar or panther of some kind.
Adam didn't see all of it before it was out of sight. "Hmm," he muttered, obviously unsure. Then he spoke with more confidence, "That is a white-tailed deer." We both watched for a few seconds until the animal came out from behind the bush. It clearly was a cougar. "Oh, now that I see it better I see that I was wrong," Adam told me. "I didn't see its head or paws before--or the tail either."
"That's ok, don't worry about it. I was just curious."
Suddenly, I felt an eerie sensation that made me forget all about cougars and deer. I felt out of breath. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a shimmering movement of the light in the air, though that description does not even come close to my experience. It wasn't an actual body, but a presence that radiated power and purity. My skin felt prickly and there was a tingling in my fingers. I turned toward it.
It surely was God himself. I remembered reading in a theology book that God is self-authenticating and never needs an introduction. But he ignored me and came alongside Adam. Adam's face broke into a smile, as he bowed his head in greeting.
"Adam, my son," God said in a clear, penetrating voice, "I want you to sleep now. I have one more act of creation to perform, and then you can take over for me." Adam lay down on his back in the soft grass, clasped his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. Immediately he was unconscious and still.
Then, the Lord turned away from him and walked toward me. "Hello, Jerry, my friend. I'm so glad you could come."
I dropped to my knees and put my forehead to the ground. I wished later that I had thought quick enough to say something important like, "My Lord and my God." But I could not think of anything. The Lord helped me to my feet and gave me a bone-crunching hug.
"What do you think of my world?" he asked. "You have never seen it like it was intended to be. Of course, it still needs some work, which is why I made you." I understood that he was including both Adam and me in his explanation.
"Can I ask you about the animals?" I had no idea what I should say or do, but decided to try an experiment to satisfy my own curiosity. I looked across the clearing again and saw what I took to be a white-tailed deer disappearing behind the same bush I had asked Adam about. "What animal is that?" I asked.
God looked where I was pointing and said, "That is a cougar." We both watched a few seconds until a cougar walked from behind the bush. I caught my breath and frowned in surprise. I was sure I had seen a deer with a small rack of antlers.
"You see," God explained, "when you or Adam name something, you are describing it. When I name something, I am determining it." I silently pondered this for a few seconds and then nodded. "And," He continued, "when I give a different name to something, I am not guessing or misspeaking, I am changing it."
"Oh, I get it. Like Jacob being renamed Israel and Simon becoming Peter?" I suggested. A verse from the Bible popped into my mind, 'He gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were.'
"And like everyone who has faith," the Lord added, "changing them from sinners to saints."
I looked at Adam sleeping on the ground and recalled what was about to happen in the story. "Do you want me to say anything to Adam and Eve? Was I brought here to give them a warning or something? I know the danger we all are in right now."
"Do you remember that mosquito a while ago?" The Lord asked.
"Yes. I have often wondered why you created them. They have been the cause of so much suffering and death by carrying malaria, encephalitis, and other diseases." As my voice trailed off at the end of this sentence, I had a distinct impression that the Lord was raising his eyebrows in my direction, even though there were no eyebrows to see.
"Okay, I'm sorry," I conceded. "It isn't the mosquitoes' fault, is it? As with everything else, it was our sin that corrupted your good creation, right?"
"The point is that you can't change cosmic history by what you say. Even I can't fix this problem by mere speaking. It will take an expensive sacrifice to restore the creation your sin will ruin." I sensed a smile and a chuckle when he added, "Your visit today is not so that you can save the world. That particular assignment has already been given to another." I looked at the ground, feeling terrible about the great arrogance my question had shown.
God sighed. "No, it would not help for you to talk to them. Adam and Eve will have sufficient warning, and so will you. Your responsibility is to serve the purpose of God in your own generation."
I don't know how long we stood silently together. Time almost stopped. My own mind was recalling what I considered the highlights of human history, as I had been taught them. I tried to imagine that all our sins and crimes were recorded on a scroll. How much parchment would it take? But, on the other hand, God would make generous promises and graciously keep them all.
"Well, then, I guess I will go back where I belong," I replied, matching sigh for sigh. "I have often tried to imagine what creation was like before sin. Like you said, 'It's very good.' And, reading about the new creation makes me homesick for the return and reunion. By the way, you don't happen to have a new name for me today, do you?"
"Don't you like your current name? I believe you are growing into it."
"My parents told me they gave me my name in hope of what I would become. For most of my life, I have lived hoping for what I do not yet have. But I am interested in the new name you promised. I am eager to know who I truly am and what name describes that identity. I know that will come at the proper time."
"Be patient for a little while longer. You won't be disappointed when you hear the new name. But meanwhile, your birth name should serve well."
He pointed back the way I had come. " Your return walk is actually not far. See those two pine trees off there? Go between them and continue past the big sycamore tree. If you are quiet enough, you should see the fox just before you get to your house."
Jerry! I can’t tell you how much I love this post. Thank you for such a vivid expression of faith and creativity!
Yes. But part of me wants to be able to talk among ourselves about our new names. Would that not add to the joy?