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Showing posts with label Adam and Eve. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Adam and Eve. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 28, 2026

Millions of Years of Death – An Eighth Imaginary Conversation with a Real Troll

    “We’re in a rut, Gunner,” I said when I saw him approaching. It was my day off and I was enjoying a cup of coffee and a novel of historical fiction on the front porch. One of the stray cats that hangs around our place for food was there, allowing me to pet her occasionally. But she bolted under the porch when she heard the guttural roar of Gunner’s pickup truck. He parked it in my driveway, turned off the engine and stepped out, waving at me.

    He took off his red ball cap and said, “What?”

    “We’re in a rut. I know how it’s going to be. It’s always like this. You come to me with a question or a challenge. I respond and I answer. You insult me and then you leave. Now, I don’t mind playing this role, but you know that we don’t have to be enemies, right? There is no obligation to hostility.”

    “Oh, come on now, Jeff. You know you’re in control here,” he said.

    “Okay. Okay,” I said. “Fine. Come on up to the porch. Let me get you a cup of coffee. You like sugar in yours, right?”

    Cup of coffee in hand and seated on the porch with me, he began. “I would bet that you’re one of those who believe in the theory of evolution. But I want to challenge you with one thing.”

    “Go for it, Gunner,” I said.

    “The alleged evidence is the fossils in the layers of sedimentary rock, a long and tortured history of death and suffering. But it just doesn’t work. You can’t have millions of years of death before Adam’s sin.”

    “Well, the scientific descriptions of cosmological, geological, and biological evolution are not actually in conflict with theology…”

    “But the Bible…”

    “Or the Bible. Only with a particular and peculiar interpretation of the Bible.”

    “False. False! You are elevating man’s opinion – your opinion over God’s word. The God of millions of years…”

    “Billions,” I interjected but he either ignored me or didn’t hear me.

    “…is not the God of the Bible. If you’re unwilling to believe Genesis, if you’re unwilling to believe the first, the foundational book of the Bible, how can you claim to believe the rest of it? Either you’re being disingenuous or you’re deceived. Either way, you’re insulting God’s character. Calling God a liar. Like all of your so-called educators and scientists, you are slow to acknowledge the legitimate, slow to honor what is true. Paul says that ‘the wages of sin is death.’ So you can’t have hundreds of millions of years of death before the introduction of sin.”

    “Okay, Gunner,” I said. “Let’s accept that premise.”

    “So you agree?”

    “Well hang on. Hang on. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s accept first the proposition that without sin there is no death. And your argument is that there could be no death before Adam’s sin. Yes? Do I have that right?”

    “Spot on!” Gunner agreed.

    “Okay. But Adam’s sin wasn’t the first. Sin was already introduced.”

    “What are you talking about?” Gunner furrowed his forehead.

    “You also accept the idea that Satan is a real individual, an evil entity and not just a myth or a personification of the idea of evil. You believe that Satan was an angel in heaven who rebelled against God and was cast out of heaven. Yes?”

    “Yes,” he said hesitatingly.

    “And when did Satan’s fall occur? After Adam’s?”

    I could see it happening behind his eyes. The sputtering fire and smoke of incredulity, the proof-text checklist rolled up like a scroll. And then the confidence returned. “But the six, twenty-four hour days of creation still don’t allow you millions of years for life to evolve.”

    “Billions,” I said again. He didn’t respond so I pressed forward a little. “I understand the creation stories of the Bible to be more myth than history. As a sacred story not a scientific document. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe. The world is God’s and I believe this. Sin brings death. I believe this.”

    “If you don’t believe Genesis, you don’t believe the Bible.” He declared and set down his coffee mug. “Your faith is weak. Your faith is blind. Your faith is destroyed by Big Bang insanity. You want the creation without the Creator.” He stood as if to leave, but turned again and said, “Tell me, Carter, is your tongue scarred from all the double talk?”

    I didn’t have an answer, so I sipped my coffee. He looked at his watch and said, “Well, I’ve gotta’ go. See ya’ next time?”

    “Sure, Gunner. You always seem to know where to find me.” he descended the steps of the porch, got back into his noisy truck and drove away. I picked up my novel and returned to the story. A few moments later the cat reappeared from under the porch.

An Imaginary Conversation with a Real Troll (the first of the series) 
I Will Not Fight the Argument (the second)
Supermarket Wrestling (third conversation)
Do You Even Pray (the troll returns)
All Means All (A fifth conversation)
The Doctrine that Cannot Be Challenged (sixth conversation)
Toward Sodom - (a halfhearted seventh conversation)

Friday, December 5, 2025

A Third Imaginary Conversation with a Real Troll: Supermarket Wrestling

     My troll caught up with me on my day off. He had to, obviously. Rule of three, right. That’s how these things work. In folklore, in comedy, in advertising. One. Two. Three. He came first to assault my character. He came again to challenge my doctrine. Now he was back a third time to question my faith as I was buying groceries. Standing there in the produce department, as I picked out onions and peppers, I saw him coming to me.

    “You are common, but you have nothing of the common love in your heart – being of one accord, one mind. You are divided in yourself. There is no eternity in your heart.”

    “Hey, Gunner. What do you think of these tomatoes? They’re not red. They’re pink and pale. Probably mealy too. Winter produce is so…”

    “What will little Satans like you do if loosed upon the world? Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lewdness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations…”

    “Emulations?” I scoffed. “What are you…?” But he rolled on with his list of condemnations. I had my shopping list; he had his.

    “Wrath, strife, sedition, and heresies. That’s your thing. Heresies.”

    “Here? You want to do this here? Now? In the supermarket?”

    “Sure. Why not now? Are you afraid? Now is the judgment of this world and the prince of this world shall be cast down. You should be afraid.”

    “Okay. Okay. But come with me and keep your voice down.” I put the tomato back and moved on towards the baked goods. “I need bread,” I told him.

    “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. That’s your real problem. You don’t live by the word of God.”

    “Oh, come on, dude,” I said as I picked up a loaf of sourdough. “I read the Bible every day. Or nearly so.”

    “Yeah. Yeah,” he said as he followed me towards the meat department. “You read it. But you wrest it. Unstable and unlearned. You twist it, distort it out of true. You read it but you don’t believe it. You won’t accept the verbal plenary inspiration that makes it true. Inerrant. Infallible. Authoritative. God breathed, without mistake or contradiction.”

    I chuckled and pointed to the lamb shank behind the glass of the refrigerated shelves. “Behold the Passover lamb. How were the Israelites to prepare it?”

    “What?” He recoiled. 

    “Were they to roast it or boil it? Exodus or Deuteronomy? They don’t agree.”

    “No. Not like that. You’re not going to get me with those proof texts, with those alleged contradictions. You pick and chose the parts you like because you think it’s easier that way. But the whole word is inspired. God breathed. It cannot fail.”

    “God breathed, you say?” I turned my cart down the canned good aisle. I would finish my shopping. “What about Adam? He was inspired. Literally God breathed. But he failed. Yeah? I don’t think inspiration means what you think it means.”

    Just then Gunner reached out and stopped my hand as I was selecting cans of kidney beans. “Who inspires these perversions in you? You’re going to have to learn the lesson. Leave the Bible alone. Get better and get saved.” The flickering fluorescent lights cast on again off again shadows across his face

    “I don’t wrest the scripture, Gunner.” I said as I placed the beans into my cart. “But I do wrestle with it. Like Jacob wrestling through the night. And like Jacob, it’s broken me. Left me limping.”

    “You limp because you’re broken. Because you’re so lame.”

    “Lame as I am, I leap for joy in God,” I said. “And that is the miracle.”

    Gunner stood there, unmoved and blocking my path through the aisle.

    “We can continue if you want,” I said. “But I still have several things on my list. Do you mind?”

    He pursed his lips tight and shoved my cart – not hard, but away. He said nothing more. Just walked down the aisle and out of the store. I returned to my list – getting cheese and milk, and a few other things.

Monday, March 3, 2025

Reflections on Forgiveness Sunday

 


The echoes of paradise still ring 
memories of a place I've never been
from the garden they were thrown
still trying to find my way back home again, again, again. 

You went missing years and years ago
and where you've gone I could never know
I've seen your face a thousand times
but never in the New York Times, oh no, oh no, oh no. 

The mountains loomed so large out there
when I was breathing in the desert air
I would call to apologize
and to forgive your lies but you don't care, don't care, don't care.

I'm happier than I was before
since she walked through my front door
but here's a great mystery 
that the shape of you is still in me, oh, oh, oh. 

She is sleeping now so whisper
but when she wakes I will kiss her
in the noon and twilight times 
I will sing in broken rhymes for her, for her, for her. 


I wrote this song as I was delivering packages yesterday afternoon - on Forgiveness Sunday (also known as Cheesefare Sunday in the Orthodox Church) - the last Sunday before lent. 

Jeff Carter's books on Goodreads
Muted Hosannas Muted Hosannas
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ratings: 3 (avg rating 4.33)

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