In the Beginning: Reflections on Genesis 1:1

In the Beginning: Reflections on

Genesis 1:1

“In the beginning God…”

In Hebrew, the prepositions here are somewhat uncertain—in the beginning, from the beginning, at the beginning—all are possible readings. The text opens not simply with time but with beginning: In the beginning, Elohim—the Strong One, the Mighty One—created.

The name Elohim carries a plural form. It doesn’t necessarily indicate the Trinity, but rather expresses the fullness, the plurality of divine strength and being. The One who is—the fullness of existence itself—creates.

He created that which is above and that which is below. The earth was “formless and void”—a phrase suggesting emptiness, nakedness, vulnerability. God was not creating nothingness but shaping a space yet unformed, a realm not yet filled. He separated the heavens from the deep, establishing an expanse above and the earth beneath. Then, into that empty realm, He spoke.

Light pierced the void.

Could this Light be the pre-incarnate expression of the Son? John begins his Gospel in the same way: "I the beginning was the Word (Logos), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. "Perhaps the Logos—the Word—was Light itself, the radiant sound of divine expression. It seems that heaven, the spiritual realm, operates by sound; or at least, that sound activates it. Creation itself began not with motion, but with a voice.

The Tapestry of Connection

As we read through the Old Testament, we find recurring threads woven into one grand tapestry—the story of covenant. It is tempting to see covenant merely as God’s method of dealing with humanity, a series of divine agreements made and renewed through time. Yet covenant, I believe, is more than a mechanism—it is the heartbeat of relationship itself.

But something was lost. Humanity forfeited sonship. In the garden, after disobedience, Adam and Eve hid from God. Eating the forbidden fruit was forgivable; even believing the serpent’s lie could have been forgiven. But hiding—that was the turning point. Their attempt to conceal their nakedness marked the beginning of shame.

They covered themselves, not simply with leaves, but with fear and self-consciousness. God, of course, already knew. Yet when they adopted shame, they accepted a new parentage—shame became their source, their identity. Separation entered creation. Humanity began to forget who they were.

The Creator had formed the red earth (Adam from adamah) and breathed His own Spirit into man. But now the man and woman hid from that very Spirit. They were expelled from the Garden—not cursed themselves but exiled from unity. The ground was cursed; the serpent was condemned to crawl.

They left clothed in skins, no longer clothed in glory. Once they shared God’s radiance—light as covering, unity as identity. But when their eyes were “opened,” they saw differently. The light within dimmed, and shame filled the space where glory had been.

The Loss of Identity

Soon, self-consciousness turned to self-centeredness, and self-centeredness to violence. Blood was shed—human blood—for the first time. Sin introduced confusion, doubt, and fear, all symptoms of a lost identity.

A prophetic friend once said: “All sin is loss of identity—missing the mark, missing the blueprint.”

That resonates deeply. To sin is not merely to break a rule, but to forget who we are.

Faith, Hearing, and Union

Scripture says: “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.” Could this mean that faith itself comes through Jesus, the Living Word? Without faith, it is impossible to please God—but with Christ in us, and we in Him, how could we not please our Father?

In Him, unity is restored. The separation that began in the garden is healed in Christ. Some have not yet heard; others have heard but not surrendered; many listen but do not act. Yet the invitation remains:

Let us live as those reconciled.

Let us bear the fruit of the Spirit.

Let us be the Gospel—healing, rescuing, delivering, cleansing.

This is Sozo (σῴζω)—the wholeness of the Kingdom.