The Ruined Eden
Part One
“Made in Cheena” the little girl said, as she read the bottom of her tiny doll. Her mispronunciation of the word brought a smile to her mum’s face, and mine. “China” her mother said, resisting the temptation to laugh. The girl repeated the word perfectly whilst looking directly at me. “Well done” I said, as a responsible adult.
She carried all the typical characteristics of a four-year-old. She was so interested in her surroundings that her eyes followed any movement like a cat in a disco. There was something peaceful about watching a mum read a newspaper next to her daughter who was visibly learning the ropes of life. I never thought I’d feel at peace in council offices to be honest.
It wasn’t long before the little girl grew bored of the space around her. She turned to her mum and watched her read the national paper left generously on the coffee table. And then I felt a strange notion dwell within me. As I clocked the front page of the paper, which projected the word MURDER in huge red writing, I found myself wanting to hide the headline from the child. There’s no doubt in my head that children often carry an unpolluted air, which has seemingly escaped many adults. I guess I didn’t want to see this air of innocence tarnished by the brutality that runs down the spine of this world. I wanted to tear the front page off. I wanted to protect the glimpses of Eden in this girl’s eyes.
Of course, this was impossible, and so I watched the scene unfold. It started with the girl attempting to read the front page that separated her from her mum’s gaze. “What does that say?” she enquired. The mum turned to where the girl was pointing, before quietly whispering the word ‘murder’.
The cogs inside the child’s head were almost audible as she tried to associate the word with an action. She looked at her mum like a lion cub trying to work out how to digest a first solid meal. The mother lowered the paper and explained that murder was something done by bad people. She went on to say that it was when one person hurts another so seriously that they are no longer living.
I was waiting for the inevitable question. The question that is pretty much prohibited in the ‘evolved’ western world. The little girl mumbled the question ‘why?’
I didn’t hear the mum’s response. I was moved almost to tears at the expression on the child’s face though. A morbid revelation dawned on her, as it has done with me these last few months. The revelation that we ruined Eden.
There was a world where murder hadn’t even been conceived, a world where the creator walked amongst his beloved. It was a place designed to last forever, until humanity fell victim to the greatest and most horrible act of deception ever to pass through the horizon of this world. And though early man and woman didn’t set out to destroy Eden, they ended up driving in the final nails personally.
The feeling that brought me to tears in the council offices watching the air of innocence diminish around the life of a child, was not just sadness, it was guilt. No, I haven’t murdered anyone to date, but I am responsible for the destruction, depletion and ruin of Eden. And whether or not you call Jesus ‘Lord’ we have something in common. Both you and I took God’s perfect plan, and smashed it across his alter. And the symptom of Eden’s downfall is still rife within us both. It’s the common denominator in almost every waking thought. It’s the DNA constant. It’s the fact that when all is said and done, we will never love our neighbour as we love ourselves.
Isaiah 64:6
“All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away.”
Peace.
*The Ruined Eden is the first part of Alex Willmott’s Eden Series.
Next Friday, CVM will publish part two: ‘The Reconstructed Eden’.














