Introduction
I lay there that winter afternoon in 1987, without strength. Leaving the house for church that morning had taken great courage and I now felt drained and depressed. To be honest, getting through an average Sunday had become too much for me. Unexplained anxiety complicated my every thought. The busy, confident and brave woman I’d known myself to be had vanished in a matter of weeks.
Four years earlier I‘d started a ministry for women and teens with unwanted pregnancies that had grown into a community recognized service. My thirty volunteers staffed both a 24-hour hotline and office space downtown. I fielded phone calls from dedicated volunteers day and night and frequently spoke at churches throughout town to raise awareness and financial support. I was proud of my ability to communicate and get things accomplished and often judged other Christians who appeared inactive. Now, this super Christian I’d become had vanished and in her place was a weak, scared and pouty one. I didn’t know then but I was in the midst of something called, “burnout.”
“It’s not fair,” I told God. “After all I’ve done for You, I shouldn’t be suffering this way. You’re not supposed to treat Your saints this way. I’ve given You my all - my every minute - and this is the way You’re repaying me? I thought You would protect me!”
I didn’t expect an answer. Nevertheless, an answer came, and quickly - like a punch to my spirit:
“Both the knowledge of good and evil lead to death.”
Over the next twenty years the mystery of that word from the Lord has been progressively unveiled before my spiritual eyes. It’s simple and yet, not easy. The knowledge of good and evil is so woven into our Christian culture and human experience that the fabric will take some careful unraveling. But in its loosing lies something much preferred: the Tree of Life who is Christ.
The following teaching is intended as “unlearning” for all who serve Christ. Most Christians have an excellent grasp of how the choosing of evil leads to death. Tragically though, the doctrine of how the choosing of what is good also leading to death is not well understood. I’m very sympathetic to how Christians have succumbed to the subtle deception of doing our own will as long as it’s labeled “good.” We often carry on and on even when our good works are spiritually exhausting and ineffective as though this is what God requires. We sense something is wrong but then ignore the whispers of the Holy Spirit. Discouraged, we may assume we have to work even harder. Only when a serious depression, anxiety and burnout result, are we forced to look at the how and why. It is during this time of questioning and introspection that long-held beliefs will suffer and be called into question. This is what I call, “unlearning.”
For me, the first of several periods of unlearning began over 20 years ago during a time of intense, personal trial when the Lord didn’t seem to be acting as I had been taught He would and should. I began to unlearn many long-held beliefs. Unlearning is humbling but it is gloriously freeing. Expecting God to act in ways He won’t invariably leads to confusion and frustration and if we have a spirited nature - the accusing of God. Thankfully, He is continually merciful.
In the midst of my confusion and pain, the Lord led me back to the Garden of Eden where I found the grace to unlearn and move forward. It was there that I discovered the Father heart of God and how the choice to eat of a certain tree set in motion knowledge that brings pain and the accusing of God.
From our dusty beginnings in Eden and even now, we all prefer the tree of the knowledge of good and evil over the Tree of Life. The fruit of the infamous tree of knowledge still looks like food and is pleasant to the eye. It appeals to our pride in that we think we can become independently wise, like God. We touch, we eat, and our eyes are opened; the knowledge of good and evil is now in charge and will taint with death everything we think and everything we do.
The first tainting effect of this eye-opening is shame. In the presence of our Holy God, we can’t ignore our nakedness. Shame is a powerful and untiring taskmaster. It demands action, but no matter how extensive are our efforts to right or run from our nakedness, we still feel the need to hide. And so begins the vicious cycle: the knowledge of good and evil, shame and then the