The Serpent's Grammar: How to Ruin a Perfectly Good World Text: Genesis 3:1-7
Introduction: The Unraveling
We come now to the most tragic chapter in the Bible. Genesis 1 and 2 describe a world of unadulterated goodness, a world of shalom, of open-faced fellowship with God in the cool of the day. Adam and Eve were naked and unashamed. Everything was as it should be. The relationship between God and man, man and woman, and humanity and the creation was one of perfect, harmonious order. God had given them everything, an entire world of delights, with one simple, straightforward prohibition. That one tree was the symbol of their creaturely status. It was their happy acknowledgment that God was God and they were not.
But a world without the possibility of rebellion is a world of automatons, not a world of love. True obedience, true fellowship, requires the freedom to disobey. And into this perfect world slithers the first theologian of rebellion. What happens in this chapter is not a quaint fable about a talking snake and an apple. This is a transcript of cosmic treason. This is the beachhead of an invasion. Every sorrow, every tear, every hospital bed, every cemetery, every war, and every lie has its bitter root in the conversation recorded here. This is the moment the unblemished fabric of creation was snagged, and the thread began to unravel. To understand our world, and to understand our need for a Savior, we must understand exactly what went wrong in the garden.
The temptation that Adam and Eve faced is the same temptation we face every day, just dressed up in different clothes. The strategy of the enemy has not changed because it does not need to. It worked once, and it continues to work on all who do not stand in the grace of the second Adam. The central issue was, and is, one of authority. Who gets to define reality? Who has the right to say what is good and what is evil? Is it God, the Creator? Or is it man, the creature? That is the question posed by the serpent, and the answer given by our first parents plunged the world into ruin.
The Text
Now the serpent was more crafty than any beast of the field which Yahweh God had made. And he said to the woman, “Indeed, has God said, ‘You shall not eat from any tree of the garden’?” And the woman said to the serpent, “From the fruit of the trees of the garden we may eat; but from the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God said, ‘You shall not eat from it, and you shall not touch it, lest you die.’ ” And the serpent said to the woman, “You surely will not die! For God knows that in the day you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Then the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable to make one wise, so she took from its fruit and ate; and she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate. And the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings.
(Genesis 3:1-7 LSB)
The Sibilant Question (v. 1)
The assault begins not with a roar, but with a whisper.
"Now the serpent was more crafty than any beast of the field which Yahweh God had made. And he said to the woman, 'Indeed, has God said, You shall not eat from any tree of the garden?'" (Genesis 3:1)
First, who is this serpent? The rest of Scripture makes it plain that this is no mere snake. This is "that ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan" (Rev. 20:2). Satan is not a rival god; he is a creature, a fallen angel. Notice the text says he was a beast "which Yahweh God had made." He is part of the created order, and a corrupted part at that. He is a parasite on God's good world. He cannot create; he can only twist, mar, and lie.
His primary attribute here is craftiness. The Hebrew word is 'arum'. This is a pun. In the previous chapter, Adam and Eve were 'arummim', naked and unashamed. The serpent is 'arum', crafty and subtle. He takes their innocent transparency and twists it into cunning deception. This is what sin always does. It takes a good thing, like wisdom or beauty or strength, and perverts it into a tool of rebellion.
Look at his opening line. It is a masterstroke of satanic genius. "Indeed, has God said...?" He begins by injecting a seed of doubt about the Word of God. He doesn't open with a full-frontal assault. He comes alongside with a seemingly innocent question. He presents himself as a fellow inquirer, just trying to understand the rules. But the question is loaded. He grossly exaggerates the prohibition. God had given them every tree but one. The serpent reframes it to sound as though God had forbidden them every tree. "You shall not eat from any tree?" This is the first step in all temptation: to caricature God's command and paint Him as a cosmic tyrant, a celestial killjoy whose chief aim is to restrict our freedom and happiness.
The Faltering Defense (v. 2-3)
Eve's first mistake was not eating the fruit. Her first mistake was entertaining the conversation.
"And the woman said to the serpent, 'From the fruit of the trees of the garden we may eat; but from the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God said, You shall not eat from it, and you shall not touch it, lest you die.'" (Genesis 3:2-3 LSB)
She engages. You do not reason with the devil; you rebuke him. You do not debate a lie; you confront it with the truth. Jesus, in His temptation, did not enter into a dialogue. He simply quoted Scripture: "It is written." But Eve takes the bait. She corrects the serpent's exaggeration, which is good, but then she reveals a crack in her own foundation. She misquotes God's command.
She adds to the Word of God. She says, "and you shall not touch it." God never said that. This may seem like a pious hedge, a way of being extra careful. But legalism is the front porch of license. When we add our own rules to God's law, we make it our own. And if we can add to it, we can certainly subtract from it. Adding to God's Word is just as sinful as taking from it. It subtly transfers authority from God to us.
She also softens the consequences. God's word was stark and certain: "in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die" (Gen. 2:17). Eve's version is, "lest you die." She changes a certainty into a possibility. The sharp edge of God's warning is dulled. This reveals that the serpent's seed of doubt has already begun to sprout. She is no longer standing firmly on what God has said.
The Direct Lie and the Slanderous Promise (v. 4-5)
Seeing the crack, the serpent now drives the wedge home.
"And the serpent said to the woman, 'You surely will not die! For God knows that in the day you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.'" (Genesis 3:4-5 LSB)
He moves from insinuation to direct contradiction. "You surely will not die!" This is the first bald-faced lie in human history, and it is a direct assault on the character of God. The serpent is saying, plainly, that God is a liar.
But he doesn't stop there. He attacks God's motive. "For God knows..." He claims to have inside information. He paints God as jealous, insecure, and threatened. God isn't withholding this fruit for your good; He is withholding it for His own selfish reasons. He knows that if you eat it, you will become His competition. This is the ultimate slander. It portrays the Giver of all good things as a stingy tyrant.
And what is the bait? "You will be like God, knowing good and evil." This is the primordial temptation, the very heart of sin. It is the desire for autonomy. The desire to be the source of your own law, the arbiter of your own reality. The serpent offers them deification. You don't have to be a mere creature, subject to a Creator. You can be your own god. Of course, this was a lie wrapped in a terrible, ironic truth. They were already like God, created in His image. By grasping for more, they lost what they had.
The Fall and the Abdication (v. 6)
The lie has been told, the bait has been offered, and now the will makes its tragic choice.
"Then the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was desirable to make one wise, so she took from its fruit and ate; and she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate." (Genesis 3:6 LSB)
The Apostle John gives us the anatomy of this temptation in his first epistle. He speaks of the lust of the flesh ("good for food"), the lust of the eyes ("a delight to the eyes"), and the pride of life ("desirable to make one wise"). Eve's evaluation is now completely horizontal. God's Word has been set aside, and her own senses and ambitions have become the standard. She judged for herself, and in that moment, she declared her independence from her Creator.
But where is Adam? The text is damningly clear: "she gave also to her husband with her, and he ate." He was not off tending another part of the garden. He was right there. He, who had received the command directly from God. He, who was tasked to guard the garden and protect his wife. He stood by in silent, passive abdication. The Apostle Paul tells us that Adam was not deceived (1 Tim. 2:14). Eve was tricked, but Adam sinned with his eyes wide open. He was the federal head of the human race, and in that moment of high treason, he plunged us all into sin and death. He loved his wife more than he loved his God. He chose solidarity in rebellion over fidelity in obedience.
The Pathetic Covering (v. 7)
The serpent's promise comes true, but in a way they never imagined.
"And the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loin coverings." (Genesis 3:7 LSB)
Their eyes were opened, yes. But not to godhood. They were opened to their own shame, guilt, and vulnerability. Their nakedness, once a symbol of innocence and perfect intimacy, was now a glaring emblem of their sin. The fellowship was broken. They were exposed, not just to each other, but before a holy God. Shame is the firstborn child of sin.
And what is their immediate response? They try to fix it themselves. "They sewed fig leaves together." This is the first act of self-righteousness. This is the birth of all false religion. Man, in his guilt, tries to manufacture his own covering. He tries to hide his shame through his own works, his own efforts, his own ingenuity. But fig leaves are a pathetic solution. They are flimsy, they wither, and they chafe. They can cover the body, but they can never cover the soul. Every human system of morality, every philosophy, every religion apart from Christ is just another pile of fig leaves, a desperate and futile attempt to hide from the eyes of a holy God.
Conclusion: From Fig Leaves to Animal Skins
This is the fall. A simple conversation, a single act of disobedience, and the entire world is fractured. The pattern is established: doubt God's Word, deny God's character, and desire to be your own god. This is the story of every sin ever committed.
Adam and Eve tried to cover their sin with their own works, with vegetation. But later in this chapter, we will see God's response. He rejects their fig leaves. And what does He do? He clothes them with coats of skins. For the first time, blood is shed in the garden. An innocent animal must die to provide a suitable covering for guilty sinners. The inadequacy of human works is rejected, and the principle of substitutionary atonement is established.
That first sacrifice was a shadow, a pointer to the ultimate sacrifice. God was teaching Adam and Eve, and all of us, that the only covering sufficient to hide our shame is one that He provides, and it must be purchased with blood. Our fig-leaf righteousness will never do. We need the robe of righteousness provided by the Lamb of God, the second Adam, who stood firm where the first Adam fell, who obeyed perfectly, and who died in our place to provide a covering for our sin. The story of our ruin in Genesis 3 is the necessary, dark backdrop against which the glorious light of redemption in Jesus Christ shines so brightly.