“Christ on the Tree of Life” by Giovanni Da Modena
Spring greetings to you, dear readers. In this seasonal offering, we are going to be discussing death—our view of it and how it shapes our understanding of God, the Garden, and where it is from which we came, where we were sent, and where we are going.
The topic of death may seem unappealing coming off the heels of a long and dark winter, and it may seem unusual to extend the theme of death into a season that is swollen with new life, each passing day offering a new bouquet of color—reminders of hope and resurrection—but I pray it will meet you exactly where you are in this new season and bless you with the courage to cross the threshold into the sacred imagination that is yours to carry with you into all of your days.
Death is, after all, the doorway to life.
And it is only by going back that we might begin to understand that which is ours to reclaim.
Objects of Doom or Delight?
While reading through a Christian discussion forum on the inevitability of death post-Edenic fall, I happened upon a comment that revealed a lack of sacred imagination that is so often deficient in even the most basic of theological conversations. The comment read:
“Death became inevitable because that very day Adam and Eve were denied access to the tree of life. They were doomed in that sense, from that moment on.”
As a necessary consequence of their disobedience, Adam and Eve were barred from the Tree of Life. Their denied access to the Tree of Life, however, was not a punishment, nor was it a part of the curse. Many of us, including myself, who grew up within various spheres of evangelical influence have often had an undergirding belief upholding our understanding of the Genesis 3 account—that Adam and Eve were cursed.
But this is not so.
Only two things are cursed in Genesis 3—the ground and the serpent.
While Adam and Eve would go on to bear the consequences of their disobedience and sin through the pain and toil of work and childbearing—and all of the chaos that sin would manifest in the world—they themselves were not cursed by God.
Sending them out of the garden was an act of grace that revealed the sacred imagination of our God.
For had Adam and Eve remained in the garden and eaten from the Tree of Life, not only would they have lived forever (Genesis 3:22) but they would have lived forever in their fallen state, in a sin-cursed world.
The reverse of the curse never could have happened in the paradise of Eden because it is their remaining there that would have made death inevitable, the very place where grace would have become inaccessible forever—a place of eternal separation from their Creator.
Instead, it was their God ordained departure from the garden that made the possibility of eternal death for all humanity inaccessible and the possibility of divine grace for all humanity inevitable.
The work of Trinitarian love reflected in the sacred imagination of God is costly, but it has never been fragile.
As mysterious and astonishing as it is, we’ve always been held safely in the currents of grace. Even as we were hiding from God in the coolness of the garden (Genesis 3:8), he never stopped looking for us.
The Stories That Shape Us
Growing up, my understanding of the Genesis account was very narrow and devoid of the lens of sacred imagination that I now see it through.
Satan tempted Eve. Eve succumbed to that temptation. Adam followed suit. God was angry. They were kicked out of Eden. Grace eventually found us. And that was that!
But that, dear readers, is not the whole story.
I remember reading the Genesis account about six years ago and reading it in a completely new light, waves of grace illuminated before my very eyes,
“Then the LORD God said, “Behold, the man has become like one of us in knowing good and evil. Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever—” therefore the LORD God sent him out from the garden of Eden to work the ground from which he was taken. So He drove the man out; and at the east of the Garden of Eden He stationed the cherubim and the flaming sword which turned every direction to guard the way to the tree of life.” Genesis 3:22-24
Satan’s schemes reached much further than many of us were led to believe in our Sunday School classes growing up. The cunning serpent’s main prerogative was not just to convince Eve to eat from The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. While that was a crucial entry point into the fabric of our untarnished imagination, it was merely the beginning of a mission much deeper and more sinister—an assault on the sacred imagination of God himself.
Satan knew that if our imagination, the part of us intrinsically tied to the likeness of God in our capacity to be co-creators of truth, beauty, goodness, and order in the world, could begin to unravel and deteriorate by the violent movement of one crafty lie through the corridors of our mind, that his main mission—to gain power and authority over the creation that flowed from the sacred imagination of God—would be one step closer to completion.
But how?
It’s important to remember that it was not Satan’s plan that mankind would be sent outside of the Garden of Eden. That was God’s directive after the fall, and as we’ve seen—a gracious one.
Scripture leaves no question as to what Satan’s desire was—and still is—“to kill, to steal, and destroy” ( John 10:10). His mission in Eden was straightforward: utter corruption and destruction of all of the earth-breathed creation that had flowed from the sacred imagination of God; that Adam and Eve would live with their eyes opened, knowing good and evil, and live perpetually outside of the will of their Creator, in chaos and sin, bound to the same irreversible destruction of his own fate and that of the fallen angels (see Matthew 25:41) .
This type of uttermost destruction could have only happened by Adam and Eve’s staying in the garden—not by being sent out.
Though scripture does not explicitly outline the extent of Satan’s knowledge, I believe it is contextually appropriate, given that Satan was privy to the spiritual realities and calamities of the trees in the garden, to deduce that he knew Adam and Eve could still “reach out their hand and take also of the Tree of Life, and eat, and live forever” (Genesis 3:22).
The Tree of Life, our sacred door to immortality and Trinitarian fellowship, would become a curse, an eternal well of poison whose bitterness would never quench our thirst—truly hell on earth.
The assault against humanity would be complete. And not just humanity, but the whole of God’s earthbound creation, everything that flowed from the rivers of the sacred imagination of God would be corrupted.
Satan’s mission would be accomplished and his hunger for power and authority would be assuaged.
Utter destruction. Forever.
But Satan’s plan of attack did not account for the ineffable rivers of grace that flow through the sacred imagination of our God. The Lamb slain from the foundation of the world (Rev. 13:8) was present in Trinitarian love as Adam and Eve walked with God in the garden and was present, indeed, even as they hid in shame from their Creator.
Our first parent’s departure from the garden, their barred access to the Tree of Life, is one of Grace’s first paradoxical moves. They are sent away to live in a cursed land, bearing the consequences of their sin and disobedience—yes—but they are not sent away without hope.
For just as readily came the curses from the mouth of God came also Grace’s first declaration of victory over the schemes of the evil one—spoken not to Adam and Eve, but to the Serpent himself—“He will crush your head, And you shall strike his heel” (Genesis 3:15).
The Messiah, the serpent-crusher, fully present in the sacred imagination of God.
Where Satan’s lies led to the possibility of the Tree of Life becoming an eternal well of poison, God takes the poisoned death-stained ground that would have been eternal and reclaims it as the very place where grace and life spring forth in resurrection, where our accessibility to the Tree of Life is no longer threatened, but fully preserved for us in an altogether different kind of tree—the Cross of Christ.
Instead of the Tree of Life becoming a curse, subjecting humanity to an immortality spent in sin and separation from God, Jesus becomes the curse (Galatians 3:13), declaring that a tree of death is actually full of life—an eternal gateway to everlasting Trinitarian fellowship, possible for all of humanity, but fully realized in those who look upon the mystery of Christ in devoted trust and belief .
The prophecy spoken to the serpent in Genesis 3:15 becomes manifest on the cross, welling up from the death of the God-man on a tree in Golgotha.
This is the mystery of the sacred imagination of our God.
In an excerpt from his book, The Wood Between The Worlds, Brian Zahnd says,
“What do I see when I look upon Christ in death with a pierced side? I see that a soldier’s spear has opened a window into the heart of God. As I gaze into the heart of God I discover that there is no wrath, no malice, no threat, no vengeance; only compassion, mercy, and forgiveness. Jesus said, “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks (Mt 12:34). Jesus dies, not with a curse upon his lips, but with a plea for pardon. To see Christ upon the cross is to see into the very depths of the heart of God. Where once our distant pagan past imagined there lurked monstrous intent threatening harm, we now discover there is only tender compassion. On the cross we encounter a God who would rather die than kill his enemies. When we look through the riven side of Christ into the heart of God, we gaze upon a vast cosmos filled with galaxies of grace”.
If we look closely—and look differently than perhaps we are used to—the curse of the cross is an invitation to peer through the window of the sacred imagination of God. It has always been ours to peer through—and ours to reclaim.
Our humanity can only be fully realized when we understand where it is from which we came. We were formed from the dust—yes—but before our Garden home was breathed into existence, each of us was already fully known within the omniscient corridors of the sacred imagination of God, our truest humanity preserved for us in the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world. John 1:1-5 speaks of this unfathomable mystery:
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him not even one thing came into being that has come into being. In Him was life, and the life was the Light of mankind. And the Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not grasp it.”
The darkness, the serpent, could not grasp what was conceived within the sacred imagination of God—the life and the light of mankind fully preserved for us in the heart of Christ.
Everything lost in the garden would be found again in the sacred imagination of God.
“Oh, the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!” Romans 11:33
Thank you for reading Cadence & Canticle—I’m so glad you stopped by! May you leave this space blessed and heartened as you return to the soil and stewardship of your life. I’d love for you to join this community of fellow pilgrim-souls!
For further engagement with this season’s offering, head to the Trysting Place right below!
WELCOME TO THE TRYSTING PLACE—
a contemplative space at the end of each offering for you to quiet your soul and slow down in the presence of your Creator. Settle in with all three sections or choose just one, moving through them at a pace that is right for you. This is designed to be a spacious place for your soul—a sacred rhythm for your life.
CADENCE & CURIOSITY—
an invitation to quietly contemplate and become curious about what is stirring in the depths of your heart.
Have you ever considered the cross of Christ as a Tree of Life? In the history of the Church, this is a theological concept that has been portrayed through words and art. Take a closer look at the art shared at the beginning of this offering. What does it stir in you? What stands out? What is surprising? Pray and/or journal your thoughts—have a conversation with God about the sacred imagination revealed through the Cross of Christ.
Ask Him for the eyes to peer through the window.
CADENCE & CONVERSATION—
an invitation to reflect on and share what the Lord is revealing to you in this season. Use this as a personal and private extension of reflection or use it to share your heart with other readers in this community of fellow pilgrim-souls. I’d love to hear from you in the comments!
Consider the comment I shared at the beginning of this offering (the one from the discussion forum on death). Have you tended to view the fall of our first parents through a lens of death and doom? Read the Genesis account and consider the life and grace you see revealed through this account. Jot down a list and share something that you see through the lens of grace.
The way we see things matters. Ask God for a new way to see.
CADENCE & CUE—
The final stop in each offering—a cue to still your soul before the things that are good, true, and beautiful as you ponder how you might carry them with you into your season!
A couple of weeks ago, while working on this springtime offering, an artist I follow on Instagram (@swordandpencil) shared a beautiful and captivating work of art portraying a modern rendering of Jesus as our Tree of Life. In keeping with the theme of the Serpent and the Sacred Imagination of God and the artwork I had chosen for this offering by Giovanni Da Modena, I knew that this piece would be the perfect “send-off” for this spring offering.
As you ponder the artwork below, what stands out? What is similar to Christ on the Tree of Life by Giovanni Da Modena? What is different?
Enjoy this beautiful and modern rendering of Christ as our Tree of Life by Josh Nadeau: