at the First Congregational Church of Stoughton

United Church of Christ

A grandfather¹ tells the following story:

His two-and-a-half year old granddaughter was playing in the backyard one day and discovered the secret to making mud, which she renamed with the more appealing label “warm chocolate.” Little Larissa’s grandmother, who was babysitting, had been engrossed in a book when the girl made her “discovery,” but she certainly paid attention when she saw Larissa’s clothing. After cleaning her granddaughter up, Nana told Larissa not to make any more “chocolate” and decided she had better keep her eye on the little girl.

Larissa, being two-and-a-half, soon returned to her “warm chocolate” routine, with a request posed as sweetly as a two-and-a-half-year-old can make it: “Don’t look at me, Nana, OK?”

Nana, being a Nana, said, “OK.”

And Larissa continued to manufacture her warm chocolate, three times saying, “Don’t look at me, Nana, OK?”

“Don’t look at me.” That little girl learned early in life a lesson about humanity: when we are doing something wrong, the human soul wishes to remain unobserved.

Larissa was not the first person to discover this aspect of humanity. In fact, this truth is as old as humanity itself.

When we meet them in this morning’s lesson from Genesis, Adam and Eve – newly-created by God – have been set in the Garden of Eden to be stewards of God’s creation. Adam and Eve enjoy perfect freedom in this paradise, with only one exception. To test their obedience, God has warned, “You must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it, you will surely die.”

For one brief shining moment, the world is as God intends it; in Paradise, Adam and Eve have everything a person could want – God’s love, God’s beautiful creation, and each other. But into this idyllic setting enters the serpent. Ignore what God has told you, says the serpent to Adam and Eve. It’s OK if you eat from that tree. And when you do, you will be like God.

Thus the serpent distracts them from the reality that, having been made in God’s image, they are already like God. And the serpent also plants a thought in their head – Is God keeping something from them? Are they are missing out, might there be something more, something better which will make them happier? The thought takes root; no longer do they see the tree as something to which God has said, “No.” Instead, they see that it has fruit, pleasing to the eye, delicious to the taste. It becomes the object of their desire. God has set the rules and labeled one tree, just one, off-limits. And that is the one that Adam and Eve want.

Rather than turning toward God, they rebel and turn toward themselves instead, choosing that which has been forbidden. And when they eat the fruit, their eyes are indeed opened, just as the serpent said. But they are opened to their own nakedness, laying bare their flaws and failings and sin.

Adam and Eve then hear God walking in the garden in the cool of the day. Perhaps it is something God does daily with them. But on this day, they hide themselves among the trees. God calls to Adam, “Where are you?” God knows where he is, of course, but wants Adam to answer for himself. Adam is ashamed; his strength has escaped him. “I heard you in the garden,” Adam responds, “and I was afraid… so I hid.”

It’s the first prayer whispered after The Fall: Don’t look at me, God.

Adam’s experience is universal; we’ve all been there. Any time we choose to do wrong, or to withhold doing right, we choose hiddenness as well. It may be that, out of all the prayers that are ever spoken, the most common one, the quietest one, the one that we least acknowledge making is simply this: Don’t look at me, God.

Adam and Eve’s story is our story, too. We have been created by God to live with God in and with God’s creation and to live by the words that God gives us. But we question those words. We too easily believe the enticements of modern-day serpents. We are all lured by some kind of “fruit,” and it can be hard to resist the temptation to reach out for what lies beyond us. The student who cheats on an exam; the friend who betrays a trust; anyone who breaks a covenantal promise… First, they say a prayer: Don’t look at me, God. They don’t say it out loud, of course. They probably don’t even admit it to themselves. But it’s the choice the heart makes: Don’t look at me, God.

None of these things is what God intends for our lives, and even as we are doing them, we know it isn’t right in God’s eyes. But we do it anyway, we separate from God’s purpose for our lives, and in the process, we separate from God by trying to hide. We hide by rationalizing, by deceiving ourselves, making excuses, blaming others. We hide by avoiding other people in our faith community because God might speak to us through them. And we hide by staying away from God – by not worshipping or not praying, by not having a relationship with God. We turn away from God so God won’t see us, stripped bare to reveal the truth about ourselves. Every choice to sin – no matter how small – diminishes our capacity to experience the Divine. Don’t look at me, God.

But the central promise in all of scripture is that God is with us. God surrounds us, lives with us, and is never far away. We can’t hide, even when we want to; God is always with us, even when we don’t want God to be. In the words of our Epistle lesson, “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.”

But we have another promise from God: that if we go to God, and are honest about ourselves; if we confess our sins, and repent – turning back to God – God will say, “I forgive you.” Indeed, the whole rest of the bible after The Fall details God’s intricate and loving plan to redeem, restore, and reconcile creation back to Godself. The story of God and God’s people is the story of God’s love for us from the darkness before Eden to eternity with God in heaven.

“I forgive you.” There are no more powerful words in scripture, in life, than those. They offer freedom, reunion, reconciliation, joy and abundant life. They offer us the opportunity to live as God intends – as whole, free people – free of shame, free from guilt, free to lay ourselves bare before God, revealing ourselves fully, confident in God’s promise of grace.

Lent is a season of self-examination and introspection, of being honest about ourselves before God. It is a season for confession, repentance, and turning back to God. And it is especially in this season that the God who already knows us completely invites us to come out of our hiding places to live fully in the light of God’s gracious and loving forgiveness. Amen.