To this day, I can still remember running into my parents' master bedroom at the sound of commercials for The Neverending Story or Return of the Jedi. What races to my memory is the childhood eagerness to see what every one else was watching. One such preview that captured my imagination was The Karate Kid. In 1984, this would have been considered a summer blockbuster and every "kid" wanted to see it. But as with later films like Top Gun and Goonies, my father held a tight leash on what his son was allowed to see. Karate Kid was no exception.

Dad's concern wasn't unwarranted. As a little boy, I often found myself trying to replicate He-Man with a stick pointed to the sky or riding my Big Wheel as though it were straight out of Knight Rider. My father took caution with the possibility that a fighting movie might encourage me to experiment with certain kicks and various moves portrayed on screen. His decision was a clear and emphatic, "No." With my best interest at heart, he concluded that I was too young.

After the film had reached Betamax (some of us still remember), a neighborhood friend provided me the opportunity to have an afternoon of disobedience. When I left the house in the cool of the early evening, a chill ran down my spine as it suddenly dawned on me: my parents might ask what I had been doing. Lies spilled out onto the carpet that night, but it wasn't long before my father knew the truth.

The very next day at school, eager to show my friends how to do the "Crane Kick," I stood at the entrance to the doorway where we all waited for our rides. My right leg went up, and just as my left leg prepared to switch places in midair, the corner of my eye caught a familiar silhouette in the door. There he was, but it was too late. My foot was inches from the face of another little boy as my father watched in disbelief.

Our ride home was near silent. Ashamed as I was for what had happened, I knew what the penalty was. Disobedience was equivalent to punishment as far as I was concerned. When we arrived home, my little body trembled its way into the back bedroom as I sat on my father's bed and began to cry. With my head drooped low, he walked in after me and my tears grew deeper. I held out my hands and asked him to hit them with his belt. And in that moment, my father's eyes were full of merciful tears of his own. To this day, I remember his gentle hands touching mine as he kneeled down, reached out, and let me fall into an embrace of his mercy.

At the fall of man in Genesis 3, Scripture says that Adam and Eve were "ashamed" of their nakedness. Whether or not one holds to a hard-line view of predestination, it's easy to wonder if the Lord had prepared to walk into the garden that day for other reasons (like discussing the future of the world with Adam). Instead, knowing that His creation had fallen, we're more likely to imagine the voice of a disappointing sigh.

"And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day: and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the garden." Genesis 3:8

Remember now, if you will, that the Lord God who walked into the garden was the one and only authority, the blessed Potentate, the eternal, the immortal, the invisible, the incorruptible, the true, wise, righteous, mysterious, glorious, great, honorable King of kings and Lord of lords. This was the King eternal and He was walking into the midst of shame.

"(For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, [that they are] the enemies of the cross of Christ: whose end [is] destruction, whose God [is their] belly, and whose glory [is] in their shame, who mind earthly things.)" Philippians 3:18-19

To have shame is to be without your honor. And as we learned at the end of the Riches of His Glory, honor is an unconditional, fixed value that someone holds. Thus, to lose your honor is to lose your value and become subject to conditions of consequence. When Paul speaks about men whose "glory is in their shame," he is making reference to those who actually take pleasure in their lack of honor. Even moreso, these are men and women who lift up their dishonor as an exalted point of recognition for others to see.

Human kind will often make excuses for what they've done, but Adam and Eve wouldn't have fallen into the category of taking "glory in their shame." They recognized their sin, hid among the shadows, and in walked the King. Pausing as though He stood before a lost sheep, the Lord spoke gently.

"And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, Where [art] thou?" Genesis 3:9

Out of His glory, God created the heavens and the earth. Out of the earth, God formed a man. Out of man, He formed a woman. And when both fell to their most vulnerable shame, He called out to the man. But why ask for Adam's location if He is all knowing?

The answer is quite simple, but often forgotten within academic circles of the most sound doctrinal teaching. He asked because He has patience. This is a form of patience willing to ask something that's already known. He also asked because He is kind. He asked because He is gentle. To find Adam and ask for his response is to begin the process of deliverance and redemption. Adam fell, that's true, but God's first inclination was to find him so that a broken man could stand up.