Asking the Wrong Question in the Garden

The DML global team has been praying through the book of Daniel together, and one theme stands out: Nebuchadnezzar repeatedly acknowledges the God of Daniel as the “one true God,” yet he never chooses to serve Him or abandon the gods he already worships. This tension invites us to reflect on the nature of false gods—not only in ancient Babylon, but in the many forms they still take today—and to compare them with the living God.

The pagan gods of Daniel’s time did not speak or act for themselves. Others spoke and acted on their behalf. Our God, by contrast, speaks and acts personally. He is a doer of deeds, and it is through His work that we know Him. Genesis 1 and 2 read like a report on a workweek, filled with divine action: creating, forming, naming, blessing, commanding, planting, breathing life, and resting. God reveals Himself through purposeful, relational action.

Pagan gods require human beings to attend to their needs; people are enslaved to them. Their stories are unilateral, with only one active agent. The God of Scripture, however, creates human beings as image bearers—vice-regents called to rule, cultivate, and work alongside Him. Human decisions and actions matter deeply. That calling, though, is disrupted in Genesis 3.

In Pro Rege, Michael D. Williams explores this shift in his article, “Who Is the God ‘With Whom We Have to Do’?” He notes how abruptly Genesis 3 turns: a serpent appears with no explanation, introducing opposition where none existed before. We often respond by asking, “Where was God? Why didn’t He protect Adam and Eve?”

Williams argues that this is the wrong question. Genesis 1 and 2 make clear that God entrusted the care and security of the garden to Adam and Eve. They were created to rule and to guard. The better question is, “Where were Adam and Eve?” They were equipped to defend the garden and God’s name, yet they failed to show up to the work they were given.

An appropriate response, says Williams, is that Adam and Eve would have leapt to defend the garden and the Lord's name.  The serpent would have been crushed under their foot. They had been equipped and created for this.

Adam and Eve didn't show up to work at that moment. They had every reason to be faithful and no reason to reject God's rule over them.

The same question confronts us today. We still ask, “Where is God? Why isn’t He acting?” But Scripture presses us to ask instead, “Where are we?” We, too, have been equipped and commissioned. The work given in Genesis 1 and 2 was not revoked in Genesis 3—it simply became more difficult. The call to show up remains.

A Seat at the Table...But What About the Kitchen?

You have likely heard the phrase, “You have a seat at the table,” or perhaps, “We want a seat at the table.”

The phrase reflects a desire to participate in decision-making—to have one’s voice recognized as legitimate and influential, rather than merely being present and living with the outcomes.

And while it is good to have a seat at the table, it is far better to be invited into the kitchen.

When you are at the table, you arrive after the decisions have been made. The table is already set. The menu has already been determined.

The kitchen, however, is different. It is chaotic and fast-paced. It is creative and demanding. It is where ideas collide, where experiments are tried, where failures and successes coexist. It is where fusion happens—new expressions are born, and innovation takes shape.

We need to move from occupying a place to participating in the planning.

We need to move from being welcomed to being wanted.

I believe this metaphor speaks powerfully to the Church and how it has been expressed. For many years, businesspeople—and others whose primary ministry is outside the church building—have been invited to the table, but rarely into the kitchen. The Church’s “menu” has often remained familiar and centralized, shaped largely by programs and led by a professional pastorate.

Yet Scripture calls us toward something different.

We are invited to move from centralized leadership to decentralized leadership. We are called to equip the saints for the work of the ministry—a work that takes place primarily outside the church walls. We are meant to live as a priesthood of believers, making room for multiple expressions of the Church. Churches are meant to serve movements, not require movements to serve them.

What we need is unity, not uniformity.

Recently, I heard a compelling metaphor: the Church needs to be like the immortal jellyfish—an organism known for its ability to renew itself by returning to an earlier stage of life rather than dying. In the same way, the Church must continually return to its source. Certain forms may need to die so that new ones can emerge, allowing adaptation without a loss of identity.

This is my prayer for the Church in 2026. It might look something like this:

Every Christian, a disciple and sent.
Every church, a training center.
Every pastor, a master trainer.
Every church, a multiplying church.
Every leader, a leader developer.

There is a beautiful song that captures this vision well. May it inspire us as we step into a new year.

Happy New Year.

T