I look through the generations after Abraham and see nothing that draws my interest.

A moment here or there of kings and prophets attempting to understand the story unfolding through their days. Jacob had sons, and what else? Joseph acquired land, and what else? Moses repeated the metaphor already given to us by Abraham, because you were too blind to see it the first time. So the Creator clarified his intentions with a fantastic show of rescue, leading not one man into the subtlety of redemption, but an entire people through the heart of the known world and into a new place. The subtlety of his storytelling was lost on the masses, so he had to compromise yet again on your behalf.

And all along the story barreled towards the coming Christ and the fulcrum of time. The mysteries of creation and space and light and dark held their breath, for this is what had been promised long ago. This is the story they were formed to witness.

With Christ’s death and resurrection Noah’s metaphor came to pass, as did that of Abraham and Moses. For this, their lives held meaning.

I can’t withhold my analysis from you, even though you aren’t ready to understand.  

The Creator hates in you what he loves most in himself.

He hates your pride but glorifies himself. He hates your wisdom but shouts his own wisdom through the ages. He hates your riches but values his own. He mocks your might but built your very existence to display his own. The story has been told, the hero has defeated the death the hero created, and you have been left to your own insignificance. Of course he will return for you and pluck you from the forest. Tell him that’s what you want. Offer a prayer, if that’s the way it is done in your empire. He would love nothing more than to make a great show of his power over life and death.

But you still need to determine the content of your days between the next breath you take and the last. 

My question to you is this: why spend your days serving such a God?

You don’t have the capacity to impress him. Everything you create as an offering will be scraps compared to canyons and oceans. Nothing you do or say can alter the currency between you and the Creator. The highest form of yourself is Cain with his hands around Abel’s neck.

That’s precisely because he made you to be a slave. A fool in a jester’s costume. A drunk. A liar. A savage. An adulterer. A thief and a scoundrel and a rascal of the lowest order. Maybe if you work hard you will be a slave filled with brief bursts of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Still you are my slave. And even if you pursued the God of all things and sat down to the table at his feast, with no sin or death between you, how long would it be until you felt incomplete? It can’t be? Ask your father Adam whether perfect companionship with God is sufficient.  

Some of you believe that if you follow Christ it will change who you are at the core of your being. Indeed, maybe you can make yourself a different shade of red. You’ll refer to yourself as a new creation. You will lift your hands and sing of one life being exchanged for another.


Teachers will tell you a new heart beats in your chest as they pass a plate and fill their pockets with your trinkets. This is the message you have always wanted to hear, and perhaps you will devote your life to proving this message is true. Speak the words into a mirror until you believe them. Until one day you will trip and fall back into the depravity where you are welcomed home. This is the place where we know your name. This is the place where you can live freely.

This is the will of God for your life. Always remember he gave you to me for safekeeping, and one day he will take you away from me. Until then, I am your humble caretaker.    

I ask for you to reflect on what I’ve told you. Know that I see you, and I’ve never expected anything different out of you.  

What has passed, and what is still to come, cannot be changed. The story has unfolded and you are not the hero. You are nothing.  

I am still here. God is a storm on the horizon and I am a shelter.