In God We Trust

INTRODUCTION — THE TEST THAT NEVER CHANGED

There are moments in Scripture when the veil between heaven and earth thins—when the stories we’ve read for years suddenly reveal a deeper thread running through them, binding Genesis to the Gospels, Eden to Calvary, Adam to Christ. These moments don’t just inform us; they reframe the entire way we understand God, ourselves, and the journey we’re walking right now.

Today is one of those moments.

Because the test given in the garden of Eden…

is the same test repeated on Mount Moriah…

is the same test wrestled with in the garden of Gethsemane…

and is the same test completed on the hill of Calvary.

Four locations.

One storyline.

One repeated question:

> “Do you trust Me?”

This question is not simply biblical — it is personal, present, and piercing. It lies under every decision we make, every temptation we face, every calling God places upon us, every valley we walk through, every promise we cling to, and every prayer we whisper in the dark.

Adam failed that test.

Abraham passed it in shadow form.

Jesus fulfilled it completely.

And here is the revelation that reshapes the Christian life from top to bottom:

Every temptation you face is just the Eden test repeated.

Every sacrifice God calls you to is the Moriah test renewed.

Every surrender of your will is a Gethsemane moment.

Every victory you experience is the echo of Calvary’s triumph.

If you understand these four tests, you will understand the entire drama of redemption—and your place in it.

Let’s begin where it all began.

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I. THE TEST IN EDEN — WHEN TRUST WAS LOST

When most people think of Genesis 3, they picture a story about a fruit, a serpent, a disobedience, and a curse. But beneath the surface—beneath the imagery, beneath the symbols, beneath the tragedy—is a deeper question, the foundational question behind all sin:

“Do you trust what God told you?”

Adam and Eve lived in the most perfect environment the universe has ever seen. No fear. No shame. No insecurity. No scarcity. No pain. No broken relationships. No confusion. No competing voices. No internal struggle. They lived inside a world that was only good, only generous, only life-giving, because its Designer was good, generous, and life-giving.

Every breath they took was a reminder of God’s care.

Every sunrise was an invitation into joy.

Every step through that garden was a step on ground shaped by God’s own hands.

There was no reason not to trust Him.

And yet the serpent doesn’t begin his attack with claws or force or threats. He begins with suggestion—with the smallest crack, the slightest opening, the subtlest question:

“Did God really say…?”

It’s not a declaration; it’s an implication.

It’s not an argument; it’s an insinuation.

It’s the whisper that raises suspicion about the heart of God.

Most Christians imagine Eve standing alone under the tree—Adam off somewhere naming animals or pruning grapevines. But Scripture says otherwise. The Hebrew grammar in Genesis 3:6 is explicit:

> “She took of the fruit… and gave also unto her husband with her, and he did eat.”

Adam was right there.

Right beside her.

Right within reach.

Right within earshot.

Right within responsibility.

He heard the serpent’s twisting words.

He watched the deception take shape.

He saw Eve stretch out her hand.

He felt the tension in his own chest.

And Adam chose silence.

This is the part we rarely highlight—but we must, because the Bible does:

Adam was not deceived.

Eve was tricked.

Adam rebelled.

Eve believed the lie.

Adam ignored the truth.

Eve reached in hope of gaining something.

Adam reached knowing he would lose everything.

Adam’s sin was not simply weakness.

His sin was abdication—the surrender of leadership to fear, the surrender of courage to silence, the surrender of trust to self-preservation.

And in that moment…

— something in the universe cracked.

— innocence collapsed.

— the atmosphere changed.

— shame ignited.

— fear flooded in like a tidal wave.

— separation carved its canyon between humanity and God.

The first sin was not merely eating a fruit.

The first sin was distrusting the heart of God.

That is where humanity’s brokenness begins.

That is the disease beneath all other diseases.

That is the infection beneath every sin, every struggle, every idol, every failure.

Eden is not just the birthplace of sin —

it is the birthplace of distrust.

And every human ever born—including you and me—comes into this world with Adam’s mistrust already lodged in the soul like a splinter.

But the story doesn’t end there.

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II. THE TEST BEGINS AGAIN — A NEW MOUNTAIN, SAME QUESTION

Centuries flow like rivers. Families become tribes. Tribes become nations. Nations rise and fall. Empires come and go. But the central question God asked in Eden remains unanswered: