The Shocking Price of Sin: Adam’s Lesson, Our Reality

This post and its message were inspired by a precious and beloved brother of mine who regularly preaches Christ on the street corners. One of his YouTube videos was the inspiration for this topic and the probable series of posts to come that trace blood, sacrifice, and atonement through Scripture.

Thank you for your faithfulness, Brother Lloyd. 🙏

The Shocking Price of Sin: Adam’s Lesson, Our Reality

Adam was created in perfection. He only knew life. Proof of this is the fact that he named his wife Eve because she was the mother of all living (Genesis 3:20). Death was not part of his world. But when sin entered, everything changed. Shame exposed their nakedness, and fig leaves—human effort—could not cover it.

Genesis 3:21 records: “Unto Adam also and to his wife did the LORD God make coats of skins, and clothed them.” This was no small act. For the first time, Adam saw death. An innocent animal was slain. Blood was shed. Life was taken so that his guilt could be covered. Imagine the shock, the horror, the weight of guilt pressing down as Adam realized: my sin caused this death.

The fig leaves they had sewn together represented man’s attempt to atone for sin by his own effort. But God rejected this. Nothing we do can cover guilt. Only blood, determined by God, can atone. This was not arbitrary—it was prophetic. It pointed forward to Christ, the Lamb of God, whose blood alone would bring true atonement. From the very beginning, God was teaching that forgiveness is not earned by human effort but provided through His appointed sacrifice.

Right Division Isn’t the Problem — Confusion Is

Right Division Isn’t the Problem — Confusion Is

When you begin to speak about rightly dividing the word of truth, especially among sincere, well-meaning Christians, you quickly realise that the resistance isn’t always doctrinal—it’s often emotional, relational, and deeply ingrained. You’re not just introducing a new way of studying scripture; you’re challenging years of tradition, cherished assumptions, and spiritual habits that feel sacred. And while the truth of rightly dividing is clear, scriptural, and liberating, the path to sharing it is rarely smooth.

You might start with something simple—perhaps pointing out that Paul was given a unique apostleship, that his gospel was not taught by the twelve, and that the mystery revealed to him was kept hidden from ages past. But even this gentle nudge can stir discomfort. “We follow Jesus,” someone might say, with a tone that suggests you’ve somehow veered off course. And you’ll feel the weight of that statement, because it’s not just theological—it’s personal. Many believers have built their entire spiritual lives around the earthly ministry of Christ, clinging to His words in red as the highest authority, unaware that He now speaks from heaven through the apostle He appointed for this age of grace.

The moment you begin to separate Israel’s promises from the Body’s calling, the tension deepens. You’ll hear, “We’re spiritual Israel,” or “God’s promises to Israel are ours too,” and you’ll realise that the lines have been blurred for so long that clarity feels like division. But it’s not division—it’s precision. It’s the kind of clarity that Paul himself urged when he said we must rightly divide the word of truth, not blend it into a theological smoothie that tastes sweet but lacks substance. Yet for many, the idea that the Church is not Israel feels like a betrayal of the Old Testament’s richness, a denial of continuity, a loss of identity.