From before the first moment that human eyes partook of Creation, God’s design was for unity, not only between Creator and creation but between created and created. Relationship is, in fact, His best idea for humanity:

“It is not good that man should be alone….”
~ Genesis 2:18

Thus, Creator designs woman — and no longer is man alone. Man and woman now walk with Creator in the Garden in the cool of the day, naked before Him and one another, together without shame or hinderance (v. 25)…until the day Creator seeks these beloveds of His, searching in the Garden in the cool evening breezes. ‘”Where are you?”‘ He cries out to them.

Shame had entered the Garden. Now the beloveds hide among the trees to shield their nakedness from the Creator who crafted every part of them with careful attention. I can hear the devastation in Creator’s voice as He responds to their tortured state, ‘”Who told you that you were naked?“‘ (see Genesis 3:8-11). Who told you? “My dear ones, who forced shame upon you?” Creator weeps over his beloveds. And so the first communion shatters. A void of loneliness devours face-to-face relationship, and creation is left starving for its original design.

Yet I need you to know that the Creation Story never ended there, dear hearts. The Story of Creation is, in fact, still being told within and through us to this day, so very many years later.

For all creation waits and groans, longing for the sons of God to be revealed.
Subject to futility, but not forever.
Perfect Communion awaits: our redemption and reconciliation —
Creation and Creator no longer separated.
(see Romans 8:19-23)

Creator’s design was for oneness, for a face-to-face, unashamed reality in which we dwell together with Him and one another in unity: JESUS. Creator’s best idea, His perfect plan. You see, in Ephesians Paul writes that we are to “make every effort to preserve the unity the Spirit gives through the binding power of peace,” because there is one Church, the Body and Bride of Jesus Christ; one faith, one baptism, one Lord, one God and Father of all (Eph. 4:2-6). Ah! Such ideals! Then into that perfection He gives gifts — gifts designed purely to bring us into unity with Himself and one another, that we might be intimately connected and built together most gloriously in love, to fulfill Creation’s original design….perhaps I may simply recommend you read all of Ephesians 4, lest I become entirely carried away.

“Well, that’s nice, Biblically sound and all that, but I really only wanted to know why she mentioned a bathtub.” — here I use creative license to ascertain your potential thoughts. Never fear; I indeed did not forget. I will provide the disclaimer that parts of this story may seem unlovely, so I urge you to read with gentleness toward your own experiences and toward the characters here. Just know that in the script of a Greater Story, it all becomes grace.

In January of 2023 my heart was not rejoicing with the New Year. “Mourning” is a strange word that has been too often used to indicate a certain span of time — an event, an action — when it actually marks a new reality. I was mourning, utterly empty in the wake of the late miscarriage of my son the prior autumn, even as my body and mind still struggled to recover from a trauma they were never designed to experience. In the upstairs bathroom I stared out toward my beloved mountains and wept without seeing as I turned on the sprayer. Just a shower. That is all I attempted — yet it was nothing I truly needed. Overwhelmed with grief and soaking wet, I found myself unable to move, unable to help myself. I was undone. All I could do was curl up in the bottom of the now-dry bathtub with hot tears streaming into my sopping wet hair as the rest of me shivered. I weakly cried out for help to the person who could have best been with me in this grief, to the one to whom I was once married. As he responded in his own pain, I was met at my point of need with screaming and accusations. I was still so wet, so cold. I still needed help. While I lay paralyzed by grief, his rage continued until it became a gun to his head that I later had to pry away while I met his needs. I am empty, Father. Am I empty?

But I wasn’t left alone in that bathtub. Jesus never left me — and I can tell you precious moment after precious moment about His tenderness toward me. To commune is to have a face-to-face, intimate sharing of one’s authentic being. This is why, when we practice the sacrament of Communion, taking the bread and juice (or wine, because that’s what Jesus used, just saying), it is our sacred opportunity to do it as a remembrance of Jesus Christ, whose death and resurrection restored us to our original design for unity (see 1 Corinthians 11:23-26). Every day from the point we choose Him, Jesus communes with us as we become a true dwelling place for His Spirit.

Communion is not merely about our vertical experience of relationship though; it is about our horizontal capacity to connect with one another: one Body, one faith, one hope, bound together by the Spirit in peace. “Commune with me,” cries one soul to another, even as our deepest places crave communion with Creator. To commune is to enter a space where we are free to unite in wholeness with one another. See me face-to-face. Know me as I am.

“It is not good that man should be alone…” Where did I find my phone, why was it in the bathroom — I could not tell you. I tried to call my papa — no answer, and he always answers. I tried to call my parents — it wasn’t late, so where were they? My spirit knew I wasn’t truly left lonely, but my body was alone — and I was in need. I longed for the soft flutter of my baby, knowing I will not see his face this side of Heaven. I desperately craved the comfort of my grandma’s voice to carry my loss, but I said goodbye to her the previous year, and she is in Heaven rocking my little Xavier.

So I called my neighbor — why did I call my neighbor? She was nice, I worked with her, we lived next to each other and shared snippets of our lives, both joys and pains — but this was a different kind of need. Mine was a desperate plea of a most intimate nature, the ugly kind that we do not like to share or that we pretend we do not have. Friends, I told you I was in a bathtub. I was wet. I was naked. I was in need. “Commune with me,” my soul screamed. I called her on the phone — why did she answer? — and she set her baby down by his dad and declared, “I’ll be right there.” She walked to my house; she searched for me — past the chaos being created by the person who should have already helped me; she called out to me. She came to be face-to-face. Within moments, the hands of Jesus took the form of the hands of my favorite Angel. She didn’t even flinch at finding me there so entirely undone, and only grace met my grief-filled eyes. She helped me up, wrapped me in a towel and dried me as I stood unmoving, dressed me in pajamas she’d had to dig around for, settled me in a chair, brushed and braided my hair. She spoke words of life and love, face-to-face with my pain and not afraid of it. Face-to-face, hand-to-hand, heart-to-heart. Commune with me.

My whole view of Angel exists in recognition of that moment, of that connection. Tears of gratitude fill my eyes as I write my story, a Great Story. Her name is a glorious representation of her love and the gifts that she shares as she ministers comfort to those around her. Angel has become the sister of my heart as we both walked out of the nightmares created by brokenness and into the freedom of wholeness. I still don’t know why she chose to come on that empty winter night, but I will be forever grateful that she did.

You see, dear ones, we were designed for communion. We were designed to walk together, hand in hand, unashamed before our Creator-Father. If you crave communion, you long for your perfect design! That is as it should be. So commune with the ones who choose to be face-to-face, heart-to-heart. Do not settle as you seek the Ruth to your Naomi, the Jonathan to your David, the Mordecai to your Esther, the Lover to your Beloved — and may you be as those precious ones to others around you. Set yourself to walk with those who seek true connection, and above all set yourself to seek first the One who has always been seeking you. It is time to reject shame and embrace communion unto wholeness.

Enjoy the garden in the cool of the day, brave hearts.