“When Enoch had lived 65 years, he became the father of Methuselah. After he became the father of Methuselah, Enoch walked faithfully with God 300 years and had other sons and daughters. Altogether, Enoch lived a total of 365 years. Enoch walked faithfully with God; then he was no more, because God took him away.”
This is one of my favorite stories from scripture these days. Normally, on average, in the middle of most days, genealogies are the parts of the Story I care least about.
They don’t seem to be much more than names, ages, and places that pattern themselves with markers like birth, death, and walking. They aren’t quotable. They can’t be boiled down into trendy spirituality.
But, when I was reading this passage a couple of days ago something changed.
I realized this was my story, that this is our story.
I am like one of those names no one likes reading in all those genealogies.
Reading about a man who was born, walked with God for a while, got married, had kids, walked with God some more and then died I saw my past, present and future.
And then I got lost in that story, lost in how much history and relationship was condensed into a few lines to be remembered for all of eternity. In those few lines, all of Enoch was defined by something simple: “he walked faithfully with God”
I am a person of relationships, of creativity, of passions. I have dreams and desperately want to be spoken to in that iknowallyoursecretsandiforgiveyou voice. Most of us are like that in some capacity.
I have moments that define me. Small things that play out over time and space. Moments with the windows rolled down out in the deep blue night drinking sweet tea and telling ghost stories that sound like Led Zeppelin songs. Moments that hang around like smoke-stained clothes. Things that have faded into blurred feelings like nostalgia till you get to that place where your dead relatives, first crushes, driving through Yellowstone and your favorite hamburger become the same thing.
I remember Otis Redding songs like close friends. The way certain days have come to an end in colors that smother the skyline into eternity. The smell of my grandfather’s pipe and the sound creation makes when you are alonelikeAdam. The nervous feeling of giving your heart to something beyond yourself.
I have destroyed relationships. I have planted gardens. I have eaten good cantaloupe and forgotten to take out the trash. I’ve chased pigeons and had heroes.
There have been times for watching rain storms from my front porch and times for listening to my dog sleep. Times I have prayed to God and felt nothing.
I’ve been every son I can be. I’ve brought the chips and hit home-runs. Written embarrassing haikus and seen Jesuslikeresurrection.
But when my life ends, all of this will be understood simply as “Geoff walked faithfully with God, and then he was no more” and I will be home, and it will be good.