Back to the Beginning: What Genesis Is Teaching Me This Time
A return to page one—with new questions, deeper wonder, and unexpected clarity.
These past few weeks, I’ve been stressed—mentally and creatively blocked, and if I’m being r e a l l y honest, on the verge of just giving up.
I haven’t been able to have content planned.
Couldn’t even pick up a book or record a poem.
But suddenly, I felt the tug to pick up the Bible and read Genesis.
Back to the beginning, when the world was a big void.
Before trauma, before systems, before striving. And what I’ve found reading the first book of the Bible again isn’t just stories I heard in Sunday school.
I’m finding patterns. Wounds. Divine themes. Echoes of my own life.
I’ve been asking questions I never thought to ask before:
Why did Adam not answer God’s question and went straight into blaming Eve?
Was there a command to scatter before the Tower of Babel? (Spoiler: yes—Genesis 9:1.)
Why didn’t he talk to God about the famine since God brought him to that land?
Why didn’t Abram pray before going to Egypt? Why didn’t he ask for protection for Sarai?
What kind of covenant was being formed between God and His people—and how many are there in Genesis?
Why did Lot go with Abram when God told him to leave everything?
Why does Genesis describe the souls they “gotten” in Haran?
Why does Abram call on God again when he returns to Bethel (Gen 13:1-4)? Was he relearning God's presence?
What traits does God reveal in these early chapters?
I had so many more questions pop into my head that I spent hours researching and digging into, but they weren’t just curiosity-driven rabbit holes to fall into. They were mirrors of my own heart. the same whys I was asking about the Tower of Babel and dissecting Abram(ham) choices were really a reflection of the mistakes I keep making too.
I saw my own life in the unfinished obedience of the people.
Like Abram—how often have I partially obeyed, clinging to comfort or family ties? God told him to leave everything, but Lot still went with him. Was it fear of being alone? Was it compassion? I saw myself in that hesitation. I moved to Nashville and left my whole family behind, but to be honest, there. isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t question God on this choice. I miss my friends, my family and sometimes the chaos because it’s familiar, and whether we want to admit it or not, we fear things we don’t know for sure.
I noticed the mercy of God woven through messy choices.
Adam’s gaslighting. Eve’s vulnerability. Noah’s drunkenness. Abraham & Sarah’s laughter. Lot’s confusion. All these moments that were once framed as sin or failure—I saw something more: humanity, held in tension with heaven.
Even Abram—called and chosen—acted out of fear. He didn’t pray before Egypt. He asked Sarai to lie to protect himself. Yet God still protected them anyway. That shook me.
God was always making covenants. Not just rules. Not just judgment. Covenants. Promises. Reassurances of His character, even when people forgot theirs.
The covenant with Noah, marked by a rainbow, was about mercy.
The covenant with Abram wasn’t based on performance—but on promise. A lineage, a land, and a legacy.
And when God changed Abram’s name to Abraham—adding the "ham"—we saw a glimpse of the divine breath inserted into a human identity. A holy expansion.
I asked if God chose Abram because he was the firstborn, and I realized: God rarely chooses the first in line. It’s not about birth order. It’s about willingness. Obedience. Surrender.
I wrestled with Babel—why they didn’t want to scatter. Then I saw that the command to multiply and fill the earth came long before the tower (Gen 9:1). Their resistance wasn’t about bricks—it was about control. Comfort. Fear of being spread too thin. Maybe even the fear of failing on their own or without their safety net?
I saw Abram wrestle with his choice of turning down the spoils of war from the King of Sodom. He knew he made the right decision spiritually as he didn’t want such a cruel nation to say they made Abram rich and take God’s credit, but intellectually (which is where I get stuck all the time) he wasn't sure. What moved me in this story was he brought those questions to God, which God answered by saying “Fear not, Abram: I am thy shield, and thy greatest reward.” (Genesis 15:1)
Because sometimes I’m Abram too—spirit-led in one moment, stuck in logic the next. Asking God if I made the right decision after already obeying.
That hit close to home.
And through all this, the biggest thing I realized?
God doesn’t need me to be perfect—He just wants me to return.
To walk again in the cool of the day. To ask again. Wonder again. Begin again.
This re-reading of Genesis didn’t give me all the answers. But it gave me a posture.
Of softness. Of reverence. Of starting over, not as punishment, but as invitation.
So if you’ve been feeling far off, confused, or spiritually stuck—maybe the answer isn’t to strive harder.
Maybe it’s to go back.
Back to the beginning.
Back to the breath.
Back to the voice that still walks in the garden, whispering your name.
Back to Genesis.
This hit me hard, this was my prayer today as I drove to see mom. Lord take me back to my first love, take me back to where it all started!