The Originals
This module kicks off Season 2 of FSU, where we’ll be focusing on humanity. In this first module we’ll be doing biblical theology, looking at five key figures in the biblical story. Each figure will help us see how God works through his people to make his presence known, culminating in Jesus who opens up the way to a new creation free of suffering, sin, and death.
Of course, returning implies that we’ve done biblical theology before—which indeed we have, in the first module of Season 1, a module we called God With Us. There we thought together about what biblical theology is, some of how we go about doing it, and looked at three worked examples, all of which looked at some aspect of God’s presence among his people.
In this module we’ll be assuming what we’ve said there, so although we’re hoping you won’t need to have listened to or read our notes for those, if you want to dig into some of the inner workings of what we’re saying, that might be somewhere you’d want to look. You can find all that on our website, faithseekingunderstanding.co.za.
In this series we’re thinking together about God’s people throughout the Bible story in various capacities—patriarch, mediator, king, and servant; but in some sense, all of that assumes a fundamental idea of what it means to be human: what does true humanity look like—and, as we’ll see, what does it not look like—according to the biblical authors? All this begins, of course, in the creation account when God told us, in some sense, what humanity was meant to be like. We begin, then, with the first pages of our Bibles: Genesis 1–3.
The Genesis Prologue
Genesis 1–3
The creation account works as a sort of introduction to Genesis, to the Pentateuch—the first five books of the OT, from Genesis to Deuteronomy—and, in fact, to the whole of the OT. It’s become a battleground for debates about science and faith, which is unfortunate, because, as many have pointed out, when we spend all our time focusing on that, what we aren’t focusing on are the details of the text which actually get us closer to telling us what it’s all about.
Another problem—one that is usually found at the same time, though not always—is the tendency to see the creation account as its own isolated episode, rather than seeing how it ties in with the rest of the biblical story. What I’m hoping we’ll see from the brief look we’re going to take at Genesis 1–3 is that it’s doing far more than telling us how we ended up existing; it’s an introduction to the OT, and ultimately the whole Bible, that introduces key themes that are going to be developed throughout.
“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters” (Gen. 1:1–2). That phrase “formless and empty” is worth spending a bit of time on. The Hebrew is תֹהוּ וָבֹהוּ, which we said in our previous module on biblical theology means something like, “wild and waste” or “desert and wasteland”; non-functional, uninhabitable. Another scholar explains it as “in its ‘not-yet’ state.”
What all this is building up to is fruitfulness—pushing back the wild and waste on days 1–3, bringing about order that allows for fruitfulness, and “insert[ing] residents into the fruitful world” on days 4–6. It’s a move from anti-fruitfulness to being conducive to fruitfulness, which climaxes in vv. 29–30 where the living creatures God has made are invited to enjoy this fruitfulness that has been established. Each day is capped off with, “and God saw that it was good” (except day 2, for whatever reason).
The climax comes on day 6. Since day 3, God has been creating all kinds of creatures “according to their kinds” (vv. 11–13, 21, 24–25)—trees, fish, birds, various land animals—but when he gets to humans, something changes: it’s no longer according to their kind, but “in our image” (v. 26). Just what that means has been an ongoing question. A number of attempts have been made to explain this, often singling out different capacities that set us apart from the rest of creation—that we have a soul, or that we’re rational creatures, or capacity for relationship with God—but as one commentator explains, “Any approach that focuses on one aspect of man—be that physical, spiritual, or intellectual—to the neglect of the rest of man’s constituent features seems doomed to failure.” In actual fact, the narrative tells us what being made in God’s image consists of: “Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth’ ” (Gen. 1:26).
This squares well with what we know about the ANE, where kings would set up images of themselves as a sign of their rule over that area. In similar fashion, kings in the ANE were thought of as images of the gods. The point is simply this: humans are made to be God’s representatives, ruling over the creation, albeit under his own rule. That means our role as those put in charge of ruling and subduing the rest of creation, as well as the faculties and capacities humans have that enable us to rule.
It’s worth mentioning that all humans are made in God’s image—male and female. I trust that can be taken as a given, but it’s important to mention here because as we go forward we’ll be talking mainly about Adam—the nation of Israel as a new Adam; Christ as a new Adam. What we’ll see is that humanity in general is in view, as God works to recover true humanity, lost at the fall. But the way this works out through the Bible story is mainly with reference to just the male figure, Adam.
So God created humans in his image to exercise dominion over creation on his behalf. God reaches the end of his creation with humans, and declares that it’s all very good (1:31). Unlike the rest of the land creatures, humans aren’t just partakers of fruitfulness, but stewards over it. This is what is behind the command in v. 28: “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it.” This is then expanded on in ch. 2, where the narrator zooms in on humanity. Adam is placed in the garden of Eden, which was a sort of temple where God lived with his people in perfect relationship, and the call to fill and subdue the world, was a call to “extend the geographical boundaries of the garden until Eden covered the whole earth.” God’s intention is to fill the whole world with his blessing, and to do so through his people. Greg Beale explains that “we can speak of Gen. 1:28 as the first ‘Great Commission,’ which was repeatedly applied to humanity. The commission was to bless the earth, and part of the essence of this blessing was God’s salvific presence.”
But in ch. 3 another character is introduced: “Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made” (v. 1). That word, “crafty” in the NIV and ESV, “cunning” in the CSB, is an interesting one. For one, there’s only one letter difference between that and the word for “naked” one verse earlier, in 2:25—עָרוּם for cunning; עָרוֹם for naked. We’ll come back to that in a moment. Secondly, עָרוּם—“cunning”—only appears in one other part of the Hebrew Bible: the so-called “wisdom books,” particularly the book of Proverbs. But in Proverbs it’s only ever used in a positive sense—not so much cunning as prudent or resourceful. That isn’t all from these opening chapters of Genesis that appear in Proverbs: in Proverbs 3:18 wisdom is spoken of as a tree of life—that by which humans could enjoy eternal life—and the rest of ch. 3 and ch. 8 wisdom is spoken of generally with creation language.
Bring this together and what is Genesis 3 about? Well, in one sense, it’s about wisdom: will the humans God has placed in the garden—the humans he’s allowed to live in harmony with him, in perfect relationship, in his presence (cf. Gen. 3:8)—will they seek his wisdom, or will they seek wisdom on their own terms? That, in effect, is what the tree of the knowledge of good and evil stood for. Bruce Waltke explains the phrase “good and evil” as “a merism for all moral knowledge: the capacity to create a system of ethics and make moral judgments.” In a similar vein, Tremper Longman explains that “knowing” good and evil isn’t so much about understanding what’s good and evil—a mere intellectual knowledge—as it is deciding for ourselves. John Walton doesn’t agree with either of them, and suggests instead that it does have to do with knowing good and evil as understanding, talking about it as “discerning or discriminating wisdom”, and with such wisdom, there is a sense in which they would be “like God” (3:4, 22). This wisdom isn’t a bad thing; it’s what God wanted to cultivate in Adam and Eve, teaching them to rule over creation properly, the way he intended them to. The problem comes in when Adam and Eve grasped for it on their own terms, in their own time, rather than waiting on God and his timing.
It isn’t so urgent that we choose between these interpretations; what is clear is that this passage is about wisdom, and how humans tried to seize it on their own terms rather than God’s. It’s worth remembering what we said in our last module, The Good Life, when we spoke about wisdom, that wisdom isn’t merely intellectual. It isn’t less than that, but it surely is more. So even if we take Walton’s view, the practical outworking is probably still in view.
What happens in Genesis 3 becomes a pattern of human sinfulness that will show itself over and over again throughout the Bible story. Notice Eve’s reaction in v. 6: she saw that the fruit was good. This is the first time in the narrative that somebody other than God has seen something and judged it to be good. But, as John Walton explains, “With people as the source and center of wisdom, the result was not order centered on them but disorder. This disorder extended to all people of all time as well as to the cosmos, and life in God’s presence was forfeited.”
As soon as they ate, their eyes were opened, and they realised that they were naked (v. 7). We said we’d back to that idea of nakedness. Remember in 2:25 we were told that the man and the woman were עָרוֹם—they were naked—and felt no shame. Then we’re introduced to the serpent, who is called עָרוּם—crafty, or cunning. So from the getgo we know that the snake’s cunning and the humans’ nakedness are going to feature together in some way. Except that when they do, a slightly different word is used; so 3:7: “the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized that they were עֵירֹם.”
Both mean “naked.” The difference is that the word used in 3:7 comes with connotations of shame, which aren’t there in 2:25. The same word is used in Deuteronomy 28, where the Israelites are told that if they don’t remain faithful to the covenant with Yahweh, a whole lot of curses will befall them. So we read in vv. 47–48: “Because you did not serve the Lord your God joyfully and gladly in the time of prosperity, therefore in hunger and thirst, in nakedness and dire poverty, you will serve the enemies the Lord sends against you. He will put an iron yoke on your neck until he has destroyed you.” One scholar explains it this way: “The effect of the Fall was not simply that the man and the woman came to know that they were עָרוֹם (‘naked’). Specifically, they came to know that they were עֵירֹם (‘naked’) in the sense of being ‘under God’s judgment,’ as in Deuteronomy 28:48.”
Deuteronomy 28 goes on to say that if the Israelites continue in their rebellion, they “will be uprooted from the land” (28:63ff.)—which is exactly what happens to Adam and Eve. For their rebellion against God, they’re sent into exile, into the land east of the garden of Eden, the land God gave to his people. Just as they were to “work and to keep” the garden in 2:15, in 3:23–24 they’re sent off to work the ground, and are kept from the tree of life.
This is the pattern the rest of the Bible is going to follow. Greg Beale sums it up this way: “(1) cosmic chaos followed by (2) new creation, (3) commission of kingship for divine glory, (4) sinful fall, and (5) exile.”
Genesis 4–11
The madness continues in ch. 4. Adam and Eve have kids, Cain and Abel, but when Abel’s sacrifice is accepted and Cain’s isn’t, Cain gets upset. God comes to him and warns him that sin desires to have him, but that he must rule over it (4:7)—the same language used of the woman desiring her husband, but him ruling over her (3:17). Sin is also described in animal-like terms, again taking us through a cycle of animals ruling over humans rather than the other way around.
Cain doesn’t rule over sin; he kills his brother, and the rest of the chapter is spent telling us how humanity spiraled downwards into chaos, back to the wild and waste of Genesis 1:2. All this reaches a head in ch. 6: “The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time” (v. 5).
So, because disorder is what the people wanted, disorder is what they got. God’s judgment in the flood marks a descent back to the chaotic waters it all began with—back to the wild and waste, to the formless and void.
But there is a glimmer of hope: “the Lord said, ‘I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race I have created’ …. But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord” (Gen. 6:7–8). Through this de-creation, this descent back into chaos, Noah is spared. God tells him to build a תֵּבָת—an ark, a big boat in which Noah, his family, and a bunch of animals are to find shelter from the chaotic waters.
By the time we reach ch. 9, we’ve come full circle. Genesis 1 began with God pushing back the chaotic waters and bringing order for humanity to live in the land to fill and subdue it. The flood waters receding replays that scene, in a sense, where the chaotic waters give way to order and humanity being blessed and commissioned to fill and subdue the land. The words of Genesis 1:28 are virtually copy–pasted: “Then God blessed Noah and his sons, saying to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the earth’ ” (9:1).
Things aren’t quite back to the way they were. There are important differences between ch. 9 and ch. 1 that make clear that things are still broken. But the similarities are what I want us to focus on for now. In repeating this commission to Noah, there is a sense in which Noah is meant to be a new Adam. It’s almost as if God is giving humanity another shot.
But just as Noah replayed Adam’s commissioning, he also replayed Adam’s failure. God planted the garden in Genesis 2:8; Noah planted a vineyard in 9:20. Adam took and ate the fruit of the tree; Noah drank of the fruit of the vine. Both falls involve nakedness in some way. Cursed is the serpent in 3:14; cursed is Canaan in 9:25. It’s no accident that so much of the same language—or at least the same sort of language—is used here. What the author of Genesis is wanting us to see is how Noah is set up as a new Adam, but like the first Adam, one who fails to fill and subdue the earth.
So, to come back to Beale’s five steps: we’ve seen (1) cosmic chaos in God’s de-creation in the flood, followed by (2) God’s new creation when the flood waters receded, with (3) the commission to be fruitful and multiply, the call to rule over creation as God’s stewards; (4) sinful fall, again involved a tree, some fruit, nakedness, curses, and so on. And in the next story we cap it off with (5): exile. We see this at the tower of Babel in ch. 11.
In Genesis 11 the people do the exact opposite of what God told them to do. He told them to fill the earth and subdue it. Instead they decided to stay in one place and make a name for themselves. God doesn’t like this, so he confuses their languages so that they can’t carry on working, and instead scatter all over the place. It’s as if God is saying, “You don’t want to fill the earth? Fine. How about I make you.”
We’re meant to imagine a sort of sending out, out of the comfortable conditions they aspired to make for themselves, away from their hopes and dreams of a prosperous future in a city that reaches the heavens. But how exactly is this exile? Well two details I think point us in that direction—two details that I think are pretty easy to miss.
The first is there in v. 2: “As people moved eastward, they found a plain in Shinar and settled there.” Think back to Genesis 3:24: when Adam and Eve are exiled from the garden, the author makes a point of telling us that they were sent out on the east side of the garden. Later in Genesis Lot and Abraham go their separate ways, and Lot chooses the land to the east—the east has bad connotations—and I think if we link it back to Genesis 3:24, the implication is that it has exile connotations.
The second clue is the name “Babel”—short for Babylon. If we think about who would have written Genesis, it’s likely that the name “Babylon” would have come with some bad connotations—exile connotations. That’s where the nation of Israel lands up by the end of 2 Kings. That’s how I think we’re meant to read Genesis 1–11: as an introduction not only to Genesis, but to the whole of the OT story. The Israelites in exile in Babylon would have read Genesis 1–11 and seen in summary fashion the same journey they went on in their history as a nation. But we’ll come back to that later.
Abraham as a new Adam
Out of exile in Babylon, God called Abraham. From the way the narrative is set up I think we’re meant to see Abraham as another Adam figure. I suspect most of us are accustomed to hearing about the differences between Adam and Abraham. Some of those differences are really important. But the language that’s used here of Abraham and his family also points to a significant continuity between him and Adam. Adam was told to “Be fruitful and multiply, to fill the earth and subdue it, and to rule” (Gen. 1:28). God promised Abraham in Genesis 12 that he will bless him, and that he’ll be a conduit of blessing for all the families of the earth (vv. 2–3). In Genesis 17 God makes a covenant with him and says, “I will multiply you exceedingly. … I will make you exceedingly fruitful” (vv. 2, 6). And we see this same sort of language crop up again and again as Genesis continues, in the next generations of Abraham’s family.
Earlier we noticed the parallels between Adam and Noah. Noah is also told to be fruitful and multiply, to fill the earth and subdue it. But when we look a little closer, we also see parallels between Noah and Abraham. We read in Genesis 8: “Then God said to Noah, ‘Go out of the ark’ …. So Noah went out … [and] built an altar to the Lord” (vv. 15–16, 18, 20); and in Genesis 12: “The Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.’ … So Abram went … [and] he built an altar to the Lord” (vv. 1, 4, 7). In 9:1 God blessed Noah, and we’ve already noticed the blessing in 12:1–3. In 9:9 God says, “I will establish my covenant with you and your seed”; in 12:7 God says to Abram “I will give your seed this land”—which doesn’t sound quite like the same thing, until we read on a few chapters and find God establishes a covenant with Abraham about giving the land to his seed (Gen. 15, esp. v. 18).
Israel as a new Adam
Exodus—Deuteronomy
The promises made to Abraham are mainly about the fate of his descendants. The rest of the story of Genesis has to do with Abraham’s family growing, ending with the generations of Jacob (Gen. 37:2), who gets renamed “Israel.” The story of Joseph that is then told gives the backstory of how Abraham’s extended family ended up in Egypt, which brings us (finally) to the next book of the Bible: Exodus.
From the word go we notice that the story of Exodus is couched in creation language: “the people of Israel were fruitful and increased greatly; they multiplied and grew exceedingly strong, so that the land was filled with them” (Ex. 1:7).
In ch. 2 we’re introduced to Moses. In the Hebrew Bible, when a character is introduced, it’s worth paying attention to how they’re introduced—usually it tends to include important details for the story we’re about to hear about them. This is definitely the case with Moses. Pharaoh is freaked out by the rapidly multiplying Israelites, and orders that their baby boys be drowned. So, Moses’ mother, not wanting him to meet the same fate, puts Moses in a תֵּבָת—translated basket, but if we think back to the story of Noah earlier, it’s the same word used for ark. The Exodus goes on to tell the archetypal rescue story of the OT—the one that the rest of the OT will point back to to say, “Remember what the Lord did back in Egypt?”—and it’s couched in creation language—the sort of language where an ark actually makes a lot of sense: the Israelites are saved from the Egyptians through chaotic waters. Exodus 14:21: “Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land”—kind of like Genesis 8:1 where God “remembered Noah … and he sent a wind over the earth and the waters receded.”
We also see creation language in Deuteronomy, on the brink of the Promised Land:
15 You saw no form of any kind the day the Lord spoke to you at Horeb out of the fire. Therefore watch yourselves very carefully, 16 so that you do not become corrupt and make for yourselves an idol, an image of any shape, whether formed like a man or a woman, 17 or like any animal on earth or any bird that flies in the air, 18 or like any creature that moves along the ground or any fish in the waters below. 19 And when you look up to the sky and see the sun, the moon and the stars—all the heavenly array—do not be enticed into bowing down to them and worshiping things the Lord your God has apportioned to all the nations under heaven. 20 But as for you, the Lord took you and brought you out of the iron-smelting furnace, out of Egypt, to be the people of his inheritance, as you now are (Deut. 4:15–20).
The Israelites are called not to turn away from the Lord when they get into the Promised Land. But notice what the alternative is: it’s that they worship the creation—a whole lot of what’s mentioned in Genesis 1—rather than the Creator.
1–2 Kings
The story from Joshua through Samuel tells the up and down story of the Israelites actually taking and settling in the land. For the sake of time, though, we’re going to skip ahead to the book of Kings. 1 Kings opens with the death of David and instalment of King Solomon.
And when we meet Solomon, we’re introduced to him as another new Adam figure. Like Adam he’s said to “have dominion” (1 Kgs. 4:21; cf. Gen. 1:26–28). He’s said to be knowledgeable about all sorts of things that call the creation account to mind: trees, cattle, birds, creeping things, fish (1 Kgs. 4:33; Gen. 1–2). He asks God for understanding of good and bad, which God gives him (1 Kgs. 3:9; cf. Gen. 2:9). We could add to that all the allusions to the creation account in the building of the temple, which we noticed in our previous module on biblical theology. As one scholar summarises it, “Solomon is described as a ‘new’ Adam who has reestablished creation worship in an Eden-like sanctuary.”
It all looks very promising. But I’m sure you know the way the story goes: Solomon has an Achilles Heel. In 1 Kings 3:3 we’re told that Solomon loved the Lord. But in 11:1 we learn that God isn’t the only one he loves: “King Solomon, however, loved many foreign women.” It isn’t Solomon’s only vice—there are a few red flags that should go up as his story unfolds—but in ch. 11 things really go downhill.
9 The Lord became angry with Solomon because his heart had turned away from the Lord, the God of Israel, who had appeared to him twice. 10 Although he had forbidden Solomon to follow other gods, Solomon did not keep the Lord’s command. 11 So the Lord said to Solomon, “Since this is your attitude and you have not kept my covenant and my decrees, which I commanded you, I will most certainly tear the kingdom away from you and give it to one of your subordinates” (vv. 9–11).
Not long after Solomon dies, the kingdom is split in two. The story of Kings tells the sad tale of how king after king, with only a few exceptions, turned their hearts away from God and led his people to worship idols—to worship their own creation rather than the Creator of all things. Assyria dragged the northern kingdom into exile in 2 Kings 17, and we don’t hear from them again. Eight chapters later, Judah is dragged off into exile—in Babylon. N. T. Wright sums it up well:
Just as Genesis 1–3 tell the story of the human plight through the pattern of glorious beginnings, rich vocations, and then horrible failure and exile, so Genesis 12 through to the end of [the OT] tell the story of Israel with tales of glorious beginnings, rich vocations, and then horrible failure and exile. Indeed, whoever put Genesis 1–3 into its present form was undoubtedly aware of, and undoubtedly intended, that resonance to be fully heard.
Conclusion
What we’ve seen is that the story of Israel’s origins is couched in creation language, and that, like Adam, they were told to be fruitful and multiply, to fill the earth and subdue it. The mission, at least in some sense, is the same: God is working through his people to fill the earth with his blessing.
We’ve seen how this is then picked up with a single person: Solomon, the king of Israel. But the king, at least to some extent, is the people’s representative. Which means that where the king’s hard is at is an indication of where at least most of the people’s hearts are at. When the king’s heart was turned away from God, there was a faithful remnant. But even so, the decisions of the king sealed the fate of the whole nation, who were held accountable for their rebellion against God, and tossed into exile.
All this is to say that the nation of Israel was supposed to be a new Adam. It was through them that God was going to work to fulfil his promises to Abraham, and through them that Adam’s commission to fill and subdue the earth was meant to be completed. But they didn’t just share in the commission of Adam; they also shared in his sin and exile. It is true that in Ezra–Nehemiah they return home and start rebuilding. But all through we get the sense that things aren’t quite right, if for no other reason than that they’re still under foreign rule. They may have been back in the land, but exile wasn’t truly over.
There’s plenty we could say from the OT. But for the sake of time we’re going to leave it there and head over to the NT.
Jesus as a new Adam
In the second half of Romans 5, Paul compares Adam and Christ, calling Adam “a type of the one to come” (v. 14). Before we get to Romans 5, though, we should take a quick look at what came before.
In 1:18–32 Paul lays out the first part of the problem: “The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of people, who suppress the truth by their wickedness” (v. 18). There are loads of connections that Paul is making in here—some really important ones, in fact—but we’re just going to focus on one: as the rest of the chapter unfolds, what we see is that the sin of humans is framed in terms of creation. “Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals and reptiles” (vv. 22–23)—they worshipped the creation rather than the Creator.
Ch. 1 is chiefly aimed at Gentiles. But in ch. 2 he turns to the Jews to say that the nation of Israel actually fared no better. Despite being “entrusted with the very words of God” (3:2), they too are under sin, under God’s judgment.
All this is summed up in 3:23, when Paul says that “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God”—“but now God’s righteousness has been made known” through Jesus (vv. 21–22). It’s been made known through his death (3:25) and resurrection (4:25) through which we’ve also been justified.
When Paul sets up a contrast between Adam and Christ in the second half of ch. 5, what I think we’re meant to see is that in Jesus we finally have the answer we’ve been looking for since page 3 of our Bibles—finally we have a human who is obedient (5:19), one who is faithful (3:22), one who took on the commission of Adam—the one through whom the world would be blessed—but without the sin of Adam. And as a new Adam, he’s the firstborn of a renewed humanity, a new creation.
This idea of new creation reaches a climax in ch. 8, where Paul says that through Jesus we’ve been made
heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. 18 I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. 19 For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. 20 For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God (v. 17b–21).
So if you’re tracking with what Paul’s been saying, humans turned their backs on God, choosing to worship the creation rather than the Creator, and exchanged the glory of God for idols, which Paul summed up in 3:23 that humans have “fallen short of the glory of God.” But Jesus came as a new Adam in ch. 5, and because of his atoning work in ch. 3 we get to be a part of that. And what is it that we’re becoming a part of?—sharing in his glory as all of creation is made new. In Jesus, all things are made new, and by virtue of our participation with him, so are we—“if anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation” (2 Cor. 5:17).
Conclusion
Much more could be said. Hopefully some of that will be picked up in the Q&R. More of the picture will be filled out as we go on.
The Bible story ends where it began: in a garden, where humans live in perfect relationship with God, enjoying the abundance of his creation, and the joy of being in his presence. That’s what we’re meant to be thinking when we read the last part of John’s vision in Revelation 22—and I’ll give him the last words:
Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb 2 down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. 3 No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. 4 They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. 5 There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever.