Author: missionspaul

It’s been awhile since I’ve written on something very sensitive and I do so gently, prayerfully because I know of many impacted by this and because it is here in the Bible and I won’t skip over it.

“The LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.” Now the LORD God had formed out of the ground all the wild animals and all the birds in the sky. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name. So the man gave names to all the livestock, the birds in the sky and all the wild animals. But for Adam no suitable helper was found.” (Genesis 2 v 18-20)

This is the first time in the garden that God says, ‘it’s not good.’ Had He made a mistake? That would be inconceivable. It was more, “this creation is not completed.” So He continues to create and He does so not from nothing or from His breath but from something He had already created. But first something else happens before He fixes the problem. All the animal kingdom are brought to Adam in some form of naming ceremony.

Can you imagine? How long did this take? Did Adam spend days, weeks, watching creatures parade before him—lions and sparrows, elephants and butterflies? Did he really name everything, even the razorfish and the tasselled wobbegong? The text doesn’t tell us, but we know this: “For Adam no suitable helper was found.”

How long did this ceremony take?! How did he come up with all these names? When he named them all, is that really everything? Did he name the Aeoliscus strigatus (we know it as the razor fish)?!

But something else is taking place. “But for Adam no suitable helper was found.” In this naming ceremony, Adam saw each creature probably in pairs and he becomes very much aware that he is alone. And that’s what is not good. There wasn’t anything suitable for him.

Pause. Only outside the garden (His presence) do we experience pain. At this moment in the garden life is perfect, no sin has entered, so Adam isn’t disappointed or upset.

God was trying to teach Adam something here in the garden. The Hebrew word for helper isn’t a subordinate term, it is actually used for God in the Bible as our helper. It means a complimentary partner. God was showing Adam that there was no one at his level, his equal, there was no one who completed what was incomplete in him.

Adam had to feel the weight of his solitude, even surrounded by all of God’s creation, before he could fully rejoice in the gift of companionship that was coming. What does this teach us?

• Loneliness isn’t a lack of faith or points to some character flaw, rather it is a human need in all of us.
• Even though he was single, Adam was fully human, fully alive, fully himself, created in God’s image and walking with God in perfection, on his own. If you are alone today for whatever reason, this is still a reality for you. This is the call of the garden.
• Outside of the garden, this story obviously exists and it does so with pain and there are no promises here that are guarantees to fix a heart’s desire. So if that applies to you don’t let anyone lay something on you that isn’t correct.
• Adam had to discover what he needed and God took him on that journey of discovery. Sometimes we think we know however understanding can take a while.
• The church is not marriage but it is family. Christ came to create a community, friendship, purpose and place us all back into His garden-presence and though it may not fix everything it is a help to so many.
• Your longing is seen. God sees it. According to this story, it matters to Him that He does. The longing is part of Adam’s story.

Amongst all the trees in that first garden, why did God create 2 particular trees?

“The LORD God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil…The LORD God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. And the LORD God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.” (Genesis 2 v 9, 15-17)

God is generous—that’s the critical point we must grasp. His nature is lavish, abundant, overflowing. His hands stretch open wide to you today, not clenched in miserliness but extended in invitation. He is a giver, a releaser of blessings, and the entire arc of the biblical story demonstrates this truth, culminating in the extraordinary moment when the Son stepped into human flesh and surrendered His life for us. Within this divine generosity, the possibilities are truly endless.

How can we be certain of this? Look at the garden: there were all kinds of trees, a verdant abundance of provision, and among them stood a special tree—the tree of life itself. God encourages us to embrace freedom in the garden, to delight in His abundance, to enjoy what He has provided without restraint or shame.

But.

God is also an authoritative figure. He is a prohibitor, a regulator, a gatekeeper of life itself. This dimension of His character cannot be ignored or dismissed.

How do we know this? Consider that one strange tree He deliberately planted: the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. In a garden bursting with countless possibilities, amid such extravagant provision, He plants one prohibitive tree. Just one. But it stands there nonetheless, unmistakable in its restriction.

Why would He do this? The answer can be distilled to one word: trust.

We all know the temptation, don’t we? That gnawing sense of entitlement to everything, the desperate, almost primal need to be the one who decides what is good and what isn’t. It seems every generation wants to remove that tree, to rationalize it away over some ethic or morality, and ultimately, to escape the uncomfortable weight of obedience. But this understanding of our own depravity is the key that unlocks everything. God doesn’t want us to carry the crushing burden of being our own ultimate moral authority. We simply cannot carry that weight—it will break us.

So very early in the story, God introduces the thought of death into the perfection of what He has created. How would death come? Not through disease or disaster initially, but through something far more subtle and devastating: if we began to reject our proper order in creation, if we tried to become equal to God by determining what is best for our own lives, we would begin to die from who we were created to be. The death would start from within.

We had so much. Abundant possessions. Limitless freedom. Endless provision. But we wanted everything. We wanted autonomy—complete, unrestrained, unaccountable autonomy. Why couldn’t we rest in all the freedom we already had? Why did we have to grasp for command over everything? Why couldn’t we let God remain the ultimate authority of the garden?

These questions are more about today than about the distant past. We still haven’t learned from our ancestors. The same temptation pulses through our veins. But here’s the paradox we must embrace: God’s prohibition is always positioned to protect our possibilities. The boundary He draws is not to diminish our joy but to preserve it, not to limit our freedom but to ensure it flourishes within the safety of His wisdom.

The tree of prohibition stands as a monument to trust, reminding us that true freedom is found not in grasping for everything, but in resting confidently in the One who provides abundantly and restricts wisely.

God is your source. Everything flows from Him. When you’re tempted to gather life from a thousand different streams, He draws you back to the garden, to His presence, where the river begins and never runs dry.

We find a remarkable picture: “A river watering the garden flowed from Eden; from there it was separated into four headwaters. The name of the first is the Pishon; it winds through the entire land of Havilah, where there is gold. The gold of that land is good; aromatic resin and onyx are also there. The name of the second river is the Gihon; it winds through the entire land of Cush. The name of the third river is the Tigris; it runs along the east side of Ashur. And the fourth river is the Euphrates” (Genesis 2:10-14).

God doesn’t merely provide water for Eden. He sends forth a river so abundant it divides into four mighty streams, reaching distant lands rich with gold, precious stones, and aromatic resin. This is extravagant generosity.

Notice the river flows from Eden, from the place of God’s presence. The source is central, deliberate, life-giving. How often do we try to fill our lives from many different tributaries hoping they’ll converge into something satisfying? But God’s design works in reverse. When we’re rooted in His presence, everything else is watered naturally.

The river separates into four distinct streams, yet there’s no sense of loss. Here lies the paradox of God’s kingdom: the more His life is shared and distributed, the more abundant it becomes. Your gifts aren’t diminished when poured out. Like that original river, they multiply in impact when they flow beyond yourself.

These four streams represent what every believer needs flowing in their spiritual life.

Pishon means “full flow.” This is abundance. Your life was meant to overflow with unhindered worship, generous living, and wholehearted devotion. When you’re connected to the source, there’s always enough grace, strength, and provision.

Gihon means “sweet river.” This speaks to quality, not just quantity. You can be busy in ministry yet miss the intimacy that makes it worthwhile. This stream brings joy independent of circumstances and relationship with God that feels like coming home.

Tigris means “swift like an arrow.” This is divine acceleration and sharp clarity. Sometimes God works with sudden speed, creating kairos moments that require quick obedience and Kingdom momentum. The arrow doesn’t meander, it moves with purpose toward the target.

Euphrates means “breakthrough.” This is the stream of victory. God intends for His people to overcome, to see walls fall and chains break. This manifests as persistent obstacles yielding, doors opening, and fruitfulness in barren areas.

All four streams flow from the same river—God’s presence. As Jesus promised, “Rivers of living water will flow from within them” (John 7:38).

Think on these questions:

1. Pishon (Full Flow): Where am I living in “trickle mode” instead of overflow?
2. Gihon (Sweet River): Have I substituted busyness for genuine intimacy with God?
3. Tigris (Swift Like an Arrow): Is there a moment right now requiring my immediate obedience?
4. Euphrates (Breakthrough): What obstacle have I accepted as permanent that God wants to break through?

Answer those questions as you talk with the Lord.

The care with which God prepared for humanity’s arrival reveals a profound principle woven throughout the creation narrative.

“Now the LORD God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed.” (Genesis 2 v 8)

This wasn’t an afterthought or a hasty arrangement. Man was placed in an environment that had already been carefully prepared and cultivated for his flourishing.

This pattern of preparation before placement runs like a golden thread through the entire creation account, revealing something essential about God’s nature and His method. Before the sun, moon, and stars were hung in the heavens, God first created day and night and the expanse of sky, establishing the rhythms and atmosphere necessary for life. Before plants could take root, animals could roam, or fish could swim, God first formed the land and gathered the seas, creating the foundations and habitats that would sustain them.

And most significantly, before man drew his first breath, God had already planted a garden, a perfect environment designed specifically for human flourishing. This wasn’t random chance or evolutionary accident. It was intentional design, purposeful preparation, divine forethought.

In the Hebrew language, the word “Eden” carries the profound meaning of “His presence.” This wasn’t simply a beautiful location on earth that God randomly selected for humanity’s first home. Rather, God chose a specific spot on this planet and then planted something far more valuable than any tree or garden, He planted His very Presence there.

Eden was the place where God deliberately established an environment of unbroken fellowship between Creator and created. This was the atmosphere in which Adam was designed to live and thrive.

The environment of Eden, saturated with God’s presence and characterised by unbroken fellowship, was what enabled Adam to truly live and succeed. It wasn’t just pleasant or convenient; it was essential. In that atmosphere of divine presence and relational intimacy, Adam could fully become who he was created to be. The environment didn’t just support his existence; it empowered his purpose.

This principle hasn’t changed. We cannot succeed, cannot fully become who we’re meant to be, cannot walk in our calling, apart from dwelling in the environment of His presence. The invitation remains: to live in the environment of His presence and to walk in unbroken fellowship with the One who made us

Here is a mirror held up to our own existence. Every day, we get the invitation to live out the reality of three truths we will get to read now. These truths are:-

• We experience unexpected provision.
• We remember our humble origins.
• We are sustained by something beyond ourselves.

“This is the account of the heavens and the earth when they were created, when the LORD God made the earth and the heavens. Now no shrub had yet appeared on the earth and no plant had yet sprung up, for the LORD God had not sent rain on the earth and there was no one to work the ground, but streams came up from the earth and watered the whole surface of the ground. Then the LORD God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.” (Genesis 2 v 4-7)

We move into another account of the Creation story and we are blessed to see three things happen, each revealing something essential about how God works and who we are.

• Before the rain falls, streams rise. Water finds a way.

Can you see it? Picture that ancient landscape, no clouds gathering, no drops descending from heaven. The expected source hasn’t arrived, yet the whole ground is watered. Not by the means anyone would predict, but by springs welling up from below, from within the earth itself. Water that should fall instead rises.

Here’s the point: sometimes the answers you are seeking come from unexpected places. Ponder on that.

How often do we fixate on one door, one method, one solution, while God is already opening streams in places we haven’t thought to look? Provision doesn’t always arrive in the package we’re expecting.

• The creation of us came not from a spoken word, but the work of His hands.

Can you see it? Throughout Genesis, God speaks and creation happens. But when it comes to humanity, something shifts. God kneels. He reaches down. He takes dust into His hands and moulds it with the careful attention of a potter at the wheel. God gets down into the dust and gets His hands dirty to create something beautiful.

Here’s the point: we all need reminding at times that what we are walking on is where we came from, none of us are greater than that, God first met us there. Ponder on that.

We are formed from the most ordinary substance imaginable, common dust, humble earth. This should anchor us in humility while simultaneously filling us with wonder that God would choose such simple material to craft His masterpiece.

• Our existence was founded on intimacy with God.

Can you see it? God leans in to the lifeless human, mouth to nostrils, and breathes. His breath pours directly into our lungs, and we become living souls.

Here’s the point: the very core of our lives is to carry the divine breath of God. Ponder on that.

We aren’t just biological beings operating independently. Every breath reminds us that we’re sustained by Someone beyond ourselves, designed for closeness with our Creator from the very first moment of human existence.

Therefore:

1. Be less predictable in your faith. Stop limiting God to the methods you expect. Provision is coming from somewhere, so be ready. Keep your eyes open for streams rising while you wait for rain to fall.
2. We are dust and divine breath held together by grace. Never forget either half of this truth, ordinary material transformed by intimate contact with the extraordinary God.

Welcome to the sacred. To the completeness. To the profound sense of accomplishment that comes not from doing more, but from knowing when to cease. Welcome to the seventh day, a day as vital and significant as all the other six that preceded it, yet different in its essential character. This is an invitation, not to emptiness, but to a different kind of fullness.

“Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.” (Genesis 2:1-3)

Here is rhythm built into the very fabric of existence.

God completes what He begins. There is intention here, purpose, a deliberate movement toward wholeness. The work of creation was not abandoned halfway through, not left unfinished or incomplete. It reached its intended conclusion, and in that completion, there was rest.

The seventh day is blessed and made holy. Not because nothing happens on it, not because it represents a void or an absence of activity, but precisely because something specific and deeply significant happens: we stop our working; we acknowledge that the world doesn’t depend on our constant effort, that the universe continues to unfold whether we are working or not.

The seventh day is a gift for the created, an inheritance given freely to those who are made in the image of God. It comes to us not because of what we’ve done, but because of who we are. It’s an act of grace, a reminder that we are human beings, not human doings.

Here, in the rest, in the pause, in the holy stopping, we find what we’ve been searching for all along in our endless moving: the sense that we are enough, that the world is good, that all is, in its deepest sense, well.

Here is the invitation:

Verses 1-2: to receive the Spirit again, to welcome Him as He hovers over our chaotic world. He has always done this, from the very beginning.

Verses 3-5: to step into order and rhythm from the emptiness and chaos of life; to understand you are called to walk in the light, in the day; and to embrace the possibility that you can discern what is truly good, for you will be able to see.

Verses 6-8: to open our ears to God speaking to you, and He calls you not to give up. Hang in there. It is not over for you. Space is being created for growth to come. Look up today and be thankful.

Verses 9-13: to receive God’s Word speaking to your dry ground. You don’t need more effort or strategy; you need His Word spoken into your life. The same voice that commanded forests from seed can speak to what lies dormant within you. Spring is coming to your dry ground.

Verses 14-19: to pause and witness the beauty of a sunrise or sunset. Failing to do this, we miss the very purpose for which time was created.

Verses 20-23: a day to listen to the sounds of our world that existed before we did. They are still here.

Verses 24-31: a moment to grasp that we bear God’s image. When we understand this truth, everything changes.

And so today, if this is your rest day, enjoy it.

The sixth day arrived—creation’s final act. We were never meant to be first. Perhaps God saved the best for last, though what’s certain is this: the last created would become caretakers of all that came before.

But something shifts on this sixth day. Something unprecedented. God declares humanity “very good” while everything else receives only “good.” More remarkably, He says something never spoken before—something profound, almost startling in its intimacy.

Here comes the crescendo: not merely another creature called into being, but a divine consultation, a heavenly deliberation before forming the image-bearers themselves.

The universe had been waiting for this.

“And God said, “Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: the livestock, the creatures that move along the ground, and the wild animals, each according to its kind.” And it was so. God made the wild animals according to their kinds, the livestock according to their kinds, and all the creatures that move along the ground according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good. Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.” Then God said, “I give you every seed-bearing plant on the face of the whole earth and every tree that has fruit with seed in it. They will be yours for food. And to all the beasts of the earth and all the birds in the sky and all the creatures that move along the ground—everything that has the breath of life in it—I give every green plant for food.” And it was so. God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day.” (Genesis 1 v 24-31)

Do you see it?

“Then God said, ‘Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness…'”

Imago Dei—image of God. We were always meant to reflect Him, to mirror the divine. Unlike anything else, we are like God Himself.

For the first time, comes a divine pause.

A consultation. Careful deliberation leading to purposeful decision. Unlike every other day, God isn’t merely commanding existence from the void. Here, before humanity, He stops. He confers.

Let that sink deep.

Notice the plural language: “Let us make…” The Trinity deliberating over creation’s pinnacle. And again, plurality: not man alone, but woman too. Male and female, both bearing the image. Equality in essence and dignity.

We are given purpose born from this divine image:

To govern—not through force, but as wise stewards. To multiply—not simply in number, but by spreading God’s reflection across the earth. To honour the sacred imprint in every soul. To nurture what has been placed in our hands.

Another day closes. Dusk falls, the sixth day finished.

But this day is different. The universe gained witnesses to its beauty, reflections of its Maker, creatures who could know God Himself.

We are those creatures still.

The image may be marred by sin—blurred, cracked like an ancient mirror—but it remains. When we grasp that we bear God’s image, everything changes.

Everything.

Here comes movement. Here comes noise. The silence is broken. Listen—there are so many new sounds.

“And God said, ‘Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the vault of the sky.’ So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living thing with which the water teems and that moves about in it, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. God blessed them and said, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the water in the seas, and let the birds increase on the earth.’ And there was evening, and there was morning—the fifth day.” (Genesis 1:20-23)

Beneath the waves, whales sing their haunting songs that last ten to twenty minutes and travel for miles through the deep. Dolphins communicate in clicks and whistles. Toads boom like foghorns, while pistol shrimp snap their specialised claws with sharp cracks like gunshots. The underwater world becomes a constant chorus of whistles and songs.

Above the surface, the soundscape shifts entirely. Nightingales weave complex melodies with over two hundred distinct phrases. Birds trill and chirp. Geese honk. Eagles release whistling screams. Hawks pierce the air with their cries. Parrots squawk and crows caw. And mockingbirds mimic everything around them.

Though not explicitly mentioned in the text, insects are implied within the broader category of “every living thing that moves.” Crickets chirp by rubbing their wings together. Grasshoppers create buzzing, crackling sounds in a similar fashion. Bees hum as they work.

There’s more beautiful sounds of course. Do you hear them?

During the pandemic, when air traffic ceased and transport fell silent, when even human voices disappeared from the streets, something remarkable happened. Walking into your garden, you could hear a sound rarely noticed before: the sound of creation itself, the sound of the fifth day.

What has happened to our lives when we cannot listen to the sounds of the fifth day?

There is one more thing to note about the fifth day—the power and purpose of blessing. “Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the water in the seas, and let the birds increase on the earth.” God does not simply create and move on. He speaks life and multiplication over His creatures. He desires them to flourish, to spread, to fill their habitats completely.

There is generosity in this blessing. God creates with open hands, calling forth not merely enough life, but teeming, abundant, overflowing life.

Why did He bless them? Because He saw that it was good.

God looks at what He has made and declares it not merely functional or adequate, but good. This reveals something profound about how God views the natural world. The creatures of sea and sky have value not because of what they do for us, but because God made them and delights in them.

They were here before us, and so we are called to steward them, not dominate them. The life in the seas and sky matters to God. He wants His creation to flourish, so we had better care for it well.

Importantly, today, try and listen to the sounds of your world that existed before you did. They are still there.

The calendar begins. Time commences. The rhythm of life is here.

“And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years, and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth.” And it was so. God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. God set them in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the fourth day.” (Genesis 1 v 14-19)

Pause here for a moment. Let yourself be astonished.

Consider the sun and moon, positioned within our solar system alongside eight planets and the dwarf planet Pluto. Now imagine this single system as merely one among 100 to 400 billion other planetary systems scattered throughout our galaxy. Our cosmic address reads: The Milky Way—a name the ancient Greeks poetically called “the Milky Circle.” Within our galaxy alone burn between 100 and 400 billion stars. If these numbers haven’t yet overwhelmed you, consider this: astronomers estimate there are approximately two trillion observable galaxies. If we assume the minimum of 100 billion stars per galaxy, the observable universe contains roughly 200 billion trillion stars. (I can’t tell you how long it has taken me to work out these figures from some website on stars and planets, I should have just said there’s a lot of planets and stars out there!) Then … what’s beyond what we can see?! Incomprehensible, that’s what is beyond.

Let’s come back to earth for a moment.

The sun, moon and stars are our cosmic timing device.

Here we are in October 2025 and our day has begun and the night is over, the same structure that we take for granted but created at the beginning of time itself. Every living thing to come has benefited from this purposeful structure to life. We know why, it is to establish the calendar and the clock. But more than this, see the words again, “to mark sacred times”. From the beginning God established sacred moments to encounter Him. Many of us fight the relentlessness of time and the demands within it. . We do everything possible not to miss one another amid our scheduled lives. Yet how often do we overlook God’s original intention, to establish sacred time with us, to inhabit the moments He continually offers? When we fail to pause and witness the beauty of a sunrise or sunset, we miss the very purpose for which time was created. In our neglect, time itself becomes our god.

The invitation still stands for us all. Don’t get lost in the wonder of it all.

When God creates space in your world, He does so with purpose. You are a canvas prepared for something unprecedented to take root and emerge. What breaks through the surface may be visible to everyone around you and that’s good. But the real beauty lies hidden within: the seeds. Future blessings for seasons you haven’t entered yet. Tomorrow’s miracles folded into today’s breakthrough.

“And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered to one place, and let dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called “seas.” And God saw that it was good. Then God said, “Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.” And it was so. The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the third day.! (Genesis 1 v 9-13)

The third day was a defining moment. When God brings restriction, He does so to create greater shape and purpose. This is His strategy, and it reveals what only He can see.

Who knew that beneath the covering waters, dry land waited to emerge? Only God. Who knew that within that land, vegetation was ready to burst forth? Only God.

The same is true for you. There are things still hidden within you that will only surface when God removes certain connections, when He separates the land from the sea in your life. When He severs ties to lifestyle choices or relationships that have kept your potential submerged, a new season of blessing will emerge. Like the dry ground appearing from beneath the waters, your true identity and calling often surface only when God removes what has been covering it.

The third day was a commanding moment. The land didn’t produce vegetation by its own initiative or desire, it produced because God commanded it to. The potential was always there, buried deep in the soil, waiting dormant beneath the surface. But it took a divine word to draw it out, to awaken what had been sleeping, to call forth what had been hidden.

Perhaps you feel like that dry ground today. Stuck in place, unproductive, waiting endlessly for something, anything, to emerge. God can speak to your dry ground. You don’t need more effort or strategy; you need His Word spoken into your life. The same voice that commanded forests from seed can speak to what lies dormant within you. Spring is coming to your dry ground.

The third day was a double blessing moment.

Did you spot it? God saw that it was good. Twice. While every other day (apart from the second) ends with the famous commentary that God looked around and “saw that it was good,” the third day is a little different. The third day gets two declarations that “it was good.”

The third day was a double blessing moment. Two declarations of goodness. This wasn’t lost on the Jewish people. They recognised the third day of the week as uniquely blessed, which is why weddings were often celebrated on this day. Who wouldn’t want to marry on the day of double blessing?

And a reminder for us all today: we are indeed people of the third day!