The Choice That Changed Everything

In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve existed in a world untainted by evil. They knew only what was good, pure, and harmonious. God’s warning not to eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was not a test for its own sake, but a boundary — a loving barrier meant to preserve their innocence and shield creation from the reality of evil. That’s why the tree carried such a peculiar name: it was the gateway to a kind of knowing that involved participation, experience, and awareness: “Then the eyes of both were opened” (Genesis 3:7). Knowledge is learned gradually, step by step. But knowledge of evil is experiential — it is something we come to know through living, through choices and consequences (Genesis 2:17). This hard-earned wisdom is woven into the very fabric of the human story, from Genesis to Revelation.

Creation, as God declared, was already “very good.” (Genesis 1:31). Evil was not a necessary ingredient in the recipe of life; it was an option, a potential, not a requirement. By choosing to eat from that tree, Adam and Eve exercised their God-given freedom, but in doing so, they opened their mind to understanding evil. Or in other words, they’ve opened the door for evil to enter their world. This is not the typical Sunday school lesson, but it is what the text, when read closely, strongly suggests.

Experiencing Evil: A Hard but Necessary Lesson

Why, then, must humanity experience suffering at all? Because knowing evil is not a mere intellectual exercise — it is existential. We cannot truly grasp what evil is — or truly appreciate goodness — unless we see its effects, suffer its wounds, and feel its sting. Suffering, for all its horror, teaches us about the depths of evil and the preciousness of good. This is the paradox at the heart of our existence: pain opens our eyes to the reality of evil, but also to the hope of redemption. The hope of the Gospel is that this boundary is not the end; rather, through Christ, death itself is conquered and transformed. Life is not destroyed but redeemed, renewed, and restored in ways we can scarcely imagine.

When Evil Entered: The Birth of Suffering

With eating from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, everything changed. Evil was no longer a distant theory or external — it entered into the human story. The consequences were immediate: shame, fear, and alienation (though not from God, who sought them even as they hid). And ultimately, the final consequence was death — the ultimate expression of evil.

But why did God respond the way He did? The answer, I believe, reveals the depth of divine mercy. Scripture says:

Then the Lord God said, “Behold, the man has become like one of Us in knowing good and evil. Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also of the Tree of Life and eat, and live forever”—therefore the Lord God sent him out from the Garden of Eden…

Genesis 3:22–23

Notice the logic here: God removed Adam and Eve from the Garden not out of vindictiveness, but out of a deep, compassionate foresight. He saw that if humanity, now burdened by evil and suffering, were to live forever in this fallen state, it would mean an unending existence of pain, regret, and separation from all that is good. Never-ending life in a world corrupted by evil would not be a blessing, but a curse. Thus, this learning experience of what evil is had to be temporary — lasting only till death do us part.

No one lives forever in this world. Every life, no matter how long, will end. This is both a cause for sorrow and joy. The ultimate solution — the hope at the heart of Christianity — is that death itself will one day be undone and we will get to see our loved ones again. Christ has turned the grave into a doorway, not a prison. But this was the topic of another book of mine.

Death as a Strange Kind of Grace

By barring access to the Tree of Life, God placed a merciful limit on human existence in its fallen state. Death, often seen as God’s wrathful punishment, is here reframed as a boundary—an act of mercy that prevents suffering from being infinite. Death interrupts the cycle, setting the stage for the possibility of redemption through resurrection.

In this sense, death is both tragedy and mercy. It is tragic because it marks the end of earthly life and brings sorrow. But it is merciful because it guarantees that suffering, in this life, will not last forever. This means that in certain circumstances, death can be morally preferable to continued life.

For example, imagine stepping into a time machine, but it could only take you back to the year 1900, when Adolf Hitler was just an eleven‑year‑old boy. Ending his life then would have prevented the unimaginable suffering he later unleashed on millions. In that sense, the greater good would outweigh the lesser evil.

I believe this logic helps explain why God, at times, allowed killing in certain circumstances. The nations He ordered Israel to destroy — such as Amalek or the Canaanites — were, in a sense, an ancient form of Nazi Germany: violent, corrupt, and bent on Israel’s annihilation. Just as the world later faced the moral necessity of stopping Hitler, Israel in antiquity was commanded to stop those who sought its destruction.

The Gospel’s Radical Break: Forgiveness and Resurrection

Here, the message of Jesus — and the hope of resurrection — breaks into history as a radical interruption. The Gospel proclaims that death does not have the final word, and that forgiveness, not vengeance, is the true path to justice. Christ’s resurrection is not merely about personal salvation; it is the promise that every cycle of violence will one day end, every wound will be healed, and even the dead will be restored.

Yet most of the world does not believe in Jesus Christ, nor does it embrace the radical logic of the Gospel — to forgive, and even to love, one’s enemy. As Jesus commanded, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). Paul echoed the same truth: “Do not take revenge, my dear friends… Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:19, 21).

Instead, much of humanity remains trapped in the “Red” stage, where honor is defended by violence and vengeance is mistaken for justice. Left unchecked, this Red spirit is not merely anti‑Gospel; it is, in the deepest sense, the spirit of the antichrist. As long as this remains our reality, our nations will need armies and weapons to protect us, and we will continue to face the grim shadow of death.

In the meantime, we as followers of Christ are still learning what it truly means to live in forgiveness. Like those who stood at the foot of the cross, most of us do not fully grasp the weight of our own sin or the depth of God’s mercy. Yet God’s response is not to abandon us, but to draw us into a learning experience — a story where suffering is real and deeply felt, but never the final word. For beyond the cross stands the empty tomb, and with it the unshakable promise that life, not death, will have the last word.

This was an excerpt from “Heavenly Genocide: Exploring God’s Command for Biblical Israel to Wipe Out Entire Nations.”