The tree was beautiful. Gorgeous, actually. Strong brown branches. Vibrant green leaves. Plump, glistening fruit hanging well within reach. The glorious sight was enough to make anyone’s mouth water. Especially hers. Not that she was particularly hungry. She wasn’t. Couldn’t be. Not when the entire garden looked this way. Fantastically healthy plants, trees, and vines endlessly produced perfect fruits and vegetables, all readily available for snacking or feasting whenever she desired. Except this tree. This amazing tree in the center of the garden with its luscious looking fruit was off limits. Entirely. Even if the fruit dropped to the ground, she still couldn’t eat it. God said so. It was His only rule.
More often than not, Eve found herself standing at the base of that tree gazing up into its branches, letting its beauty steal her breath, and wondering how its fruit would taste. Her mouth would water as the tantalizing aroma of sweet, fresh fruit wafted on the breeze. Often her hand would raise, nearly of its own volition, intending to touch the fruit. In the nick of time, she would withdraw her hand, tucking it safely behind her back, as the words of God echoed in her ears, “Do not eat that fruit. No matter what. On the day you choose to eat from that tree, you will die.” (Genesis 2:16)
The dire warning, stark and startling as it was, did not make Eve keep a wide berth. Day after day she could be found sitting in its shade, gazing up into its branches, staring at the fruit she was strictly denied. Rarely did she drag herself away. Neither the company of Adam nor the abundant beauty of the garden succeeded in diminishing her obsession with that tree. It was a slippery slope. Hanging about under the leaves of temptation made her a target for the evil one. An easy target. Vulnerable. Open. Easily persuaded to disobey God.
Lurking near that same tree, patiently waiting for the right moment, was the serpent. It wasn’t his first gig. He was an experienced mayhem maker; had already been expelled from Heaven for that very thing. It wasn’t his first day of reconnaissance in Eden, either. He had been watching Adam and Eve in the perfect garden God created for them, seeking the perfect place and time to interject his particular kind of trouble. That’s how he noticed Eve’s fixation with the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Her weakness was obvious. He’d grinned to himself as he carefully chose the moment of attack. Calm. Cautious. Calculating. Creeping into a spot beside her, the serpent stared up into the branches of the tree, mimicking Eve. Slyly watching from his periphery, he carefully chose his moment to speak, asking a question certain to generate a response. “Did God put you here and tell you not to eat any of the bountiful fruit from these beautiful trees?” (Genesis 3:1; Isaiah 14:12-15; Ezekiel 28:12-17; Luke 10:18)
His voice startled her. She didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t Adam. She knew his voice well. It wasn’t God. She knew His voice, as well. There weren’t any other people in the garden. She hadn’t heard anyone or anything approach. There was no one else there. No one except an odd looking creature. Its presence was mildly discomfiting, yet oddly compelling. It was speaking. To her. Human words. Understandable words. Words meticulously crafted to create comfort and build camaraderie.
As if they had been friends since her own creation, Eve responded, “Oh, no! We can eat from all the trees. Any fruit we want. Except this one. This fruit is off limits. God said if we eat it, even touch it, we will die.” (Genesis 3:2-3) It was an exaggeration on Eve’s part. God hadn’t said they couldn’t touch it. He had only forbidden eating it. But Eve knew herself. She needed to keep her hands off that fruit. Touching it would be her downfall. If she allowed her hand to touch that fruit, if she allowed herself to hold it, if she lifted it to her nose for a silent inhale of its mouth-watering fragrance, Eve knew she would never stop herself from eating it. The added clause was a self-fulfilling prophecy. If she touched it, she would eat it, and she would die.
Hideous cackles erupted from the creature beside her at this explanation. He was bent double in his riotous hilarity. This would be easier than he thought! Sucking in a deep breath to calm himself, the evil one dropped his own bomb, “You aren’t going to die! God just said that to scare you, to manipulate you into doing what He wanted you to do. That fruit is delicious. Very tasty. Juicy. Sweet. And it’s magical. If you eat it, you will know everything you don’t know now. Good and evil alike. You will be just like God. That’s the real reason He doesn’t want you to eat it. He doesn’t want you to know things. God’s trying to keep you ignorant.” (Genesis 3:4-5)
Staring at the serpent for a few seconds, Eve weighed her options. She knew what God had said. She knew His voice. She had spent time with Him. She knew His character. She knew what Adam had reiterated from God. She knew Adam’s voice. She knew his character. She had no experience with this stranger. Had never met him before that day. Had no idea about his character. Hadn’t ever heard his voice. His words were diametrically opposed to what both God and Adam said. But she liked his idea. Being wise held great appeal. Ignoring the red flags wildly flapping around the serpent, Eve made her choice. Choosing to believe the voice she didn’t know, Eve plucked a piece of fruit from the tree. The weight in her hand felt delicious. The smell in her nostrils was delectable. The taste on her tongue was nothing short of decadent. Eve had been right. About herself. Once she held the fruit in her hand, once she smelled it, nothing could stop her from tasting it. Wiping juice from her chin, she realized the odd creature must have been right as well. About God. About the fruit. About everything. Here she was, half-eaten fruit in her hand, very much alive and well, encouraging Adam to eat as well. (Genesis 3:6)
It took about two seconds for the sweet savor of the fruit to dissolve into the sour disappointment of alleged wisdom. They knew things now. Embarrassing things. Things better left unknown. They were naked. Both of them. Completely exposed. To the elements. To the animals. To one another. To God. They were entirely exposed to God! Every part of them. Body and soul. Not that they hadn’t been before. They had. But now they knew it. Now they knew God knew. Everything. He would come to walk in the garden later that afternoon, and He would know. Probably already knew. They had broken the rules. They had eaten the fruit. They were naked, exposed before all creation. They knew it. So did God.
Panicked by their newfound knowledge, Adam and Eve scoured the garden in search of covering. Not just a place to hide. Something to hide their bodies. Cover them. Protect them. From prying eyes and unpredictable elements. Their search led them to fig leaves. Fastening some together would do the trick. For now. A quick craft project would fix their situation. Partially. It would cover their bodies, but their recently gained knowledge revealed it would do nothing to cover their sin. Still, they sewed. Vigorously. As quickly as possible, fashioning leaf clothing to cover themselves, finishing just in time. (Genesis 3:7)
As the breeze that signalled the cool of the day began to float through the garden, Adam and Eve heard the familiar footsteps of God. Desperate to hide their obvious sin, they ran to hide, hoping He wouldn’t notice their absence. He did. Of course, He did. So He called out to them, asking where they were and why they were playing this ridiculous game of hide and seek. (Genesis 3:8-9)
Using the shortest possible answers, Adam relayed the truth of their situation. They were naked. They were afraid. They had followed a voice that wasn’t God’s and eaten the forbidden fruit. And God’s heart broke. Not just because the serpent had deceived them. Not just because they had sinned. Not simply because He was being forced to remove them from the garden. God’s heart broke because, while Eve had known His voice, she had listened to and heeded a voice she didn’t know. A voice that told her believable lies. A voice that seemed knowledgeable and wise. A voice that appeared to be honest and looking out for her best interests. A voice that she didn’t immediately discard, even when she knew it was not the voice of God. (Genesis 3:10-24)
We know exactly what that is like. We know quite a lot about listening to voices that aren’t God’s. We do it all the time. Follow the voice that takes us down the road of least resistance. Adhere to the words that most closely match our own desires. Believe the negative voices that say we aren’t enough, aren’t capable, aren’t loveable. Give in to the perfectly presented idea that God’s words are negotiable, editable, erasable. But none of it is true. It is all lies, created by the father of lies, delivered in the silky smooth voice of an angelic deceiver. And we buy into it. Even when we know God’s words on the matter. Even when we know the things being said do not align with His character. Even when we know it is not His voice. Still we listen. We believe. Just like Eve. (John 8:44; II Corinthians 11:14)
It is our greatest downfall. Our abject inability to listen, hear, evaluate, and eradicate any voice that isn’t saying things aligning with God’s character and Word is the thing that trips us up most often. Negative thoughts about ourselves make us stop, or never start, doing things for God. Outside voices convince us to stray from the unchanging truths of God’s Word. Our own desires tell us nothing bad can happen from giving our own way a shot. In the cheering section of our brains, impeccably clothed and articulately spoken, sits the evil one, the serpent from Eden, cheering us into every misstep, every backstep, every sidestep we make. If we don’t learn to differentiate between the Voice of Truth and the father of lies, we will find ourselves hampered by sin, hiding from God, headed for punishment. Just like Adam and Eve.
We really are no different. We, too, know God’s voice. We understand His words. We are familiar with His character. His requirements and commands are clear and well-known. Yet frequently we make the same choice Adam and Eve made. A choice to believe a voice they didn’t know, couldn’t vouch for, and had never heard before. A voice that led them into temptation and sin. They didn’t have to go there. At all. Neither do we.
You see, friend, the most important thing you can do for your soul is know the voice of God. Know His character. Know His heart. Know that He will never lead you into temptation. He will never browbeat or viciously berate. He will never call you names, deem you unworthy, or declare you incapable. God is love. That is His character. It flows through everything He does. Even His discipline. It drips with unending mercy and boundless grace. That is who God is. That is how He treats His children. Even when you choose to listen to voices that aren’t His because they align with your own crazy desires. God still calls you back to Himself in love and forgiveness. (II Corinthians 2:11; I John 4:16; Hebrews 12:6; Ephesians 2:4-6; John 1:16)
So don’t trust every voice you hear. You can’t afford to. Instead, test them. Identify them. Look for the attributes of God’s character in them. Know who is dropping thoughts in your mind and words in your ear. Don’t act until you do. Then follow the voice you know. The voice of God. The One who protects and preserves your soul. The voice that would never lead you into temptation, instigate self-doubt, or encourage you to violate His commands. The One whose love never fails, who chooses to give good gifts to His children, and who has the power to deliver you from all evil. Trust the voice whose character you know to be faithful and true. Trust God’s voice. The voice you know. (Psalm 23; 121; Proverbs 3:5-6; I John 4:1; I Thessalonians 5:21; Matthew 6:13; 7:11; John 10:27-28; Jeremiah 31:3; Revelation 19:11)