The more you make your faith known, the more you feel like you should have it all together. Like you should know the facts. Like you should be able to answer questions, be able to respond and contribute to discussions. The more you make your faith known, the more you are seen as a leader.
I don’t. I’m not.
Ironically, it’s like style blogging. Truth be told, you guys, I don’t think I have great style. I think I fake it, and it works. I think there are others I see so often who have that natural talent much more developed than I do. But, I talk about it. I write about it. I share it. And so, I’m known for knowing about it.
I spend time in the Word (although, not nearly the amount that I could be or should be). I go to church. Yes, I know the basics. But there is so much I don’t know. And quite honestly, I feel all too often like I’m faking it in this too.
The psychological side of faith? I can talk about that until the cows come home. I can rely on emotions and feelings and what my mind says endlessly. I can handle the basic aspects of belief.
But the theological side? The book-smart, verse-smart, “yes, I know who that is, and I know the book in which their story takes place” side? I’m not comfortable with that. I’m not at ease talking about it.
Now, all that to say that I can misinterpret things. And the first time I heard this song, I did not interpret it as it should be understood. I’ve tried embedding it, but it won’t allow me to while still being playable. Play it now or while you read, or head to it after – it really is worth a listen. In the meantime, the lyrics will make do:
“I was born to be royal, I was made to be free. But I was torn from the garden when that Devil lied to me. I was formed from the soil, I got dirt inside of me. But I was born to be royal, I was made to be free.”
“Take me back to the garden. Take me back and walk with me. For your presence I am longing, take me back, God take me back.”
“Take me down to the river. Down to Eden’s crystal streams. Where every sin can be forgiven. Holy Ghost, come set me free.”
When I first heard this, I pictured a peaceful scene, a scene encompassed by simplicity. You and the Lord in this untroubled place. This garden so breathtaking. Where you have just your Lord to focus on, nothing to draw you away.
I really do think this song touches on that – on the simplicity of a relationship with the Lord. But truly, I think there’s more to it. There’s angst here. If you listen to it, it doesn’t necessarily sound peaceful. My husband even called out that it wasn’t the type of music I lean toward. It’s a little rough around the edges.
The Garden of Eden gets two chapters, Genesis 2 and 3. It’s alluded to here and there, but it really gets two chapters to shine. One and a half, technically. We see how beautiful it is, how luscious and full of life it is. And in no time at all, we’re left with a sour taste. We get introduced to Adam and Eve, and then right away we see Eve meet her downfall. Our view of the Garden of Eden is tainted by none other than the enemy himself, and by our own nature.
So this song? It’s referring to such a brief part of the Word. It’s referring to just a glimpse we get into this moment in history. The moment before we let our human-ness take hold of us. The moment before we give in. A moment we really don’t get to read about at all. What we can determine is that in that moment, all we knew was our Lord and the good that he had made.
That’s why I think there’s angst in there – it’s a certain amount of being plain burnt out with our likelihood to sin. With how often we give into human weaknesses. It’s almost as if it were a plea. To be surrounded by the pain of our sins, and to cling to what could have been.
What if that was all we knew? What if that was all we clung to? Not the knowledge of what is good and what is evil – only knowledge that the Lord is Lord. And that we are here to tend to his creation. To be with one another, and to tend.
Take me back to the garden, where all I knew was you.