Adam Naming the Creatures - Glenn Conjurske

Adam Naming the Creatures

“And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone: I will make him an help meet for him. And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them, and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof. And Adam gave names to all cattle, and to the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field, but for Adam there was not found an help meet for him.” (Gen. 2:18-20).

We cannot suppose this to be nothing more than a curious account of a few facts concerning man’s primitive estate. It is doubtless here for a purpose, and it is in fact full of instruction for us, concerning both God and man.

First, concerning man. This naming of the beasts and the birds was no child’s play, but a great work which required a very great intelligence—-such intelligence, I will be bold to say, as is not to be found in the human race at the present day. Consider: for whose benefit did Adam name these creatures? Not for the animals’ benefit. What care they—-what know they—-what they are called by the race of men? It is nothing to them whether they have one name, or another, or no name. For whose benefit, then, was this naming? Not for God’s benefit. What need had God of this? He knew all the creatures which he had made, and needed no man to name them for him. We hear nothing of Adam naming the fishes, or any marine life, yet if he was naming the creatures for God’s benefit, God must require a name for the fishes as well as the beasts and the birds. For whose benefit, then, did Adam name the creatures? Certainly, for man’s, and he therefore named the beasts and the birds, who lived in his own element, and had nothing to say to the creatures in the sea. Man was the Lord of all of these creatures—-for his benefit and use they were made—-and for man to distinguish them they were named.

But this necessitates that man should remember the features and characteristics of every species, along with the name which he had assigned to it. If he was to forget the names a week later—-yea, or ten years later—-it would have been no more than a farce for him to name the animals at all. If there was to be any purpose in this naming, it was surely necessary that he should remember the names given. But this required an intelligence and a memory which have long since departed from the human race.

There are said to be two and a half million species on the earth today, but it is estimated that there have been 125 million. All these, of course, were alive in Adam’s day. Not that all of them were birds and beasts, by any means, but still there were a prodigious number of them. Most of the species which originally inhabited the earth are now extinct, but even at the present day there are enough different birds and beasts nearly to stagger the imagination. There are said to be 3000 species of lizards alone, and we can scarcely suppose that Adam lumped everything from the chameleon to the crocodile together into one, and called it “lizard.”

Now to name every one of these creatures, and remember all of their names, indicates in Adam a vast intellectual superiority over the whole human race as it is today. Man is fallen. He is weakened and debased in all his powers of body, soul, and spirit. The evolutionists’ dreams of the intellectual advancement of the human race have not a grain of truth in them. If you have any doubt of Adam’s intellectual superiority, try this work yourself. Go to any large zoo. You will find there only a small fraction of the species now living on the earth, as the species now living on the earth are only a small fraction of those which lived in Adam’s day. Your task will therefore be so much the easier than Adam’s was. But go through such a zoo, and name them all. Give them descriptive names if that will help your memory, or whatever names you please. Then go back a week later, or a month later, and see how many of those names you can remember. In one month’s time doubtless half of those animals would be as nameless as they were before you began. Not so in Adam’s case. He named all of these thousands of creatures once, “and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.”

You may suppose that Adam may have written down the names. Perhaps so, but this would have required a vast intelligence also. A mere list of names would have been absolutely without purpose. He must write them in such a way as to clearly identify which name belonged to which species. These animals were not confined in numbered cages, but freely traversing the earth and skies. If Adam were to write down their names to any purpose, he must write with every name a minute and exact description of the beast, such as would enable him to distinguish it from every other. The result would have been an encyclopedic scientific treatise in speciology.

But I proceed to more important matters. Adam’s naming the creatures has something to say to us about God. For Adam to have named all of these creatures to any purpose must have required a great deal of time and observation, and in this God had a purpose beyond the mere naming of the animals. If that had been all, we might surely expect that God would have directed Adam to name the plants also, for these also were created for man, and surely there was as much reason for him to be able to distinguish the plants as the animals. But that could wait another time. The plants did not suit the present purpose of God. Plants have no communication with each other—-no relationships with each other—-no fellowship with each other, as animals do, and God had a purpose at the time then present to make Adam keenly to feel the fact that he had no fellowship—-no companionship, such as all the animals had. The ultimate purpose of God was to bless man—-to satisfy his soul with good things—-to make his joy full and his cup to overflow. His naming of the birds and beasts was to prepare him for that blessing. For days and weeks he observed and studied these thousands of creatures, as the Lord caused them to come to him for their names. He watched them, one after another, the male and his female, or the mother and her young, playing together, feeding together, lying down together, gambolling off together, calling and speaking to each other, every species in its own language. The result of all of this must have been to make Adam feel very keenly alone. And God meant that he should feel this. God was about to give to him the crowning gift of his goodness—-in comparison to which all the other delights of paradise were as nothing. He was about to give to him the complement of his own heart, that he might be ravished always with her love, through all his days. But first he made him to keenly feel his need of her.

Observe the exquisite beauty of the account. First the Lord observes, “It is not good that the man should be alone: I will make him an help meet for him.” From this he proceeds, not to the creation of Eve, but to the naming of the beasts! Why this? Why then? Clearly, to give to Adam a deep sense of the fact that he was alone—-to make him to feel his loneliness. And why that? Clearly to give him the greater capacity to appreciate and enjoy his Eve when at length he received her. This is the way of God, from that day to this. He does not give to us all of his blessings at once, but often denies and deprives us—-not because he cares nothing for our needs, but precisely because he does care. He deprives and denies us to sharpen our appetite, to strengthen our desires, to augment our need—-and all of this only to increase our capacity for happiness when his hand of bounty at length meets that need. Remember, God’s purpose from the beginning was, “I will make him an help meet for him”—-but first Adam must name the beasts. First he must be made to feel his need. It was God’s purpose to fill and thrill his soul with the most exquisite happiness—-but God would give him a greater happiness than he was then capable of. Adam, therefore, must wait for Eve, while God puts him through a course of discipline designed to increase his need, that he might have the greater fulfillment at the last.

This is the habitual way of God, and all of this is bound up in the word “PROMISE,” which figures so largely in the Scripture doctrine of faith. What is the purpose of a promise? Why does God ever promise anything at all to man? Why does he not immediately give the thing, instead of promising it? The promises of God exist only because God has a purpose to give to his people some blessing, but no intention to give it to them now. For the present he has determined that they must do without it, and patiently wait for it. When he purposed to make a help meet for Adam, he did not immediately do so. He plainly saw the man’s need, and said “It is not good that the man should be alone.” He was not unconcerned about that need, but fully purposed to meet it. Yet he delayed, and instead of immediately meeting the need, he set Adam upon a course of discipline which would increase his need, or make him feel it more deeply. And this is one of the reasons why God delays to give to us his blessings. The longer the delay, the more we feel the need. The more we feel the need, the greater our capacity for appreciation and enjoyment when the need is finally met. Even the world has recognized the fact that the longer we must wait for our happiness, the greater will be that happiness when it is attained, and we find this expressed in the old proverb, “It is not good to be happy too young.” And herein we see the goodness of God, even in withholding from us the things which we need. And herein lies the essence of faith, in thus beholding his goodness through the mists and the darkness and the tears which we must endure while we languish with our needs unmet.

But how often does unbelief reign in such circumstances, instead of faith. When God withholds the good which we need, we doubt his goodness. We suppose he cares nothing for our need. We murmur against him. We doubt his love. We question his ways. And how many turn back in their hearts to Egypt, where, they suppose, their needs will be freely met. They cannot bear to live on manna and a promise of good things to come. If God does not plant their feet immediately in the land which flows with milk and honey, they will go back to Egypt. This is the way of unbelief. It was through unbelief that the Israelites fell in the wilderness. “We see that they could not enter in because of unbelief.” (Heb. 3:19). This is clearly set forth in the fourteenth chapter of Numbers. The people murmur against Moses and Aaron (verse 2), and against the Lord (verses 27-29). They had no faith in his goodness towards them, nor in his purpose to do them good, but said, “Wherefore hath the Lord brought us unto this land, to fall by the sword, that our wives and our children should be a prey?” (Verse 3). And the Lord must say of them, “How long will it be ere they believe me?” (Verse 11).

But the root of the problem lies in the fact that they cannot bear to be denied. They must have their desires. They must have their good things. Therefore they will either make a captain and return to Egypt (verse 4), or go up, against the commandment of the Lord, and take the land at once (verses 40-42). But to remain in the wilderness, denied the things which they crave—-this they cannot bear. Thus it appears how deeply unbelief is rooted in lust, and self-indulgence, and impatience.

Faith, on the contrary, is the twin sister of patience, and the root of self-denial. Faith is content to “Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him” (Psalm 37:7)—-even while the wicked prosper all around us, and we are denied and deprived and down-trodden.

God knew that Adam needed his Eve—-and yet God delayed to give her to him. God knew that it was not good for him to be alone—-and yet God left him alone, for the time being. God knows what you need—-and does he yet deprive you? Then “Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him.” Then “Trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass.” (Psalm 37:5). Yea, more, “Delight thyself also in the Lord, and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart” (verse 4)—-though it may not be today or tomorrow. He is purposed to give them to you, as much as ever he was to give Eve to Adam. He knows of the friend you need, or the wife, or the husband, or the child, and “it matters to him about you.” (I Pet. 5:7, Greek).

Now the God who thus cares for us has plainly spoken, and said, “No good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.” (Psalm 84:11). Yet as a matter of fact, he often does withhold good things from the best of his saints. Does this indicate the failure of his promise? Not in the least, for as we have pointed out before, the very essence of the word “promise” implies his present withholding of that which he fully intends to give at some future time.

We might dismiss the subject at this point, but I desire to go further. Not only does God often withhold from us what we need for a time, but sometimes, and for the same reasons, takes from us what we have already. So he did in Job’s case, and not for any sin in Job. Now God may have a number of reasons for doing so, but one of those reasons is to increase our appreciation for those things, and so increase our enjoyment in the possession of them. There are numerous ancient proverbs which rehearse the fact that we ordinarily learn to value and appreciate things precisely as we are deprived of them. Among those proverbs are:

“The worth of a thing is known by the want of it.”

“Health is not valued till sickness comes.”

“He knows best what good is that has endured evil.”

“We never know the worth of water till the well is dry.”

“Wealth is best known by want.”

Who among us could value our eyesight like the man who was born blind, and sat by the wayside begging? When the Lord gave to him the precious gift of sight, he had a capacity to appreciate and enjoy it such as none of us can have who have never been without it. Who among us can enjoy a friend, like the man who has languished for years without one? Who can feel the ecstasy of holding her new-born babe, as she who has languished for years without one? Who can value his liberty, like the man who has languished in prison? Adoniram Judson spent twenty-one months of suffering in a miserable prison, and afterwards could look back upon the ordeal without regret, for the capacity it gave him to enjoy his liberty. As his wife relates it, “One evening several persons at our house were repeating anecdotes of what different men in different ages had regarded as the highest type of sensuous enjoyment; that is, enjoyment derived from outward circumstances. `Pooh!’ said Mr. Judson; `these men were not qualified to judge. I know of a much higher pleasure than that. What do you think of floating down the Irrawaddy, on a cool, moonlight night, with your wife by your side, and your baby in your arms, free—-all free? But you cannot understand it either; it needs a twenty-one months’ qualification; and I can never regret my twenty-one months of misery, when I recall that one delicious thrill. I think I have had a better appreciation of what heaven may be ever since.”

And Henry F. Lyte writes in the familiar hymn,

“Life with trials hard may press me:
Heaven will give me sweeter rest.”

For it is a plain fact that some of what the Lord has promised will never come to us in this life at all. We have an inheritance “incorruptible, and undefiled, and that fadeth not away,” but it is “reserved in heaven” for us. We read, therefore, concerning some, (Hebrews 11:13),“These all died in faith, NOT HAVING RECEIVED THE PROMISES”—-not in this life, that is. This is the way of faith, always. It patiently endures the present denials and afflictions, and trusts God for the “better thing” in the future, whether in this life, or the life to come. “Ye have heard,” says James, “of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord, that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy.” (James 5:11). The Lord may indeed delay to give us the desires of our hearts—-and more, he may take them from us after we have them—-but faith yet rests in the Lord, knowing that the end is not yet, and that the end will show the Lord to be very pitiful and of tender mercy. The eye of faith is always upon “the end of the Lord,” and it is no small part of faith to know that the end will be sweeter, the blessing more enjoyable, the happiness greater, the better thing more appreciated, the joy fuller, precisely because of the present delays and denials and sufferings.

In this we see clearly also the great difference between the ways of God and the ways of the devil. God saves the best wine till last. He denies and deprives us now, in order to make our pleasure the sweeter in the end. The devil does just the reverse. He offers the desires of our hearts free for the taking, gives the pleasures first, and the bitterness at the end. God preaches present self-denial. The devil preaches present self-indulgence. As William Cowper says, in one of the most beautiful hymns ever penned on faith,

“The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.”

Yes, and sweeter still the fruit. But the devil gives the sweet flower at the first, and the bitter fruit at the end. Thus the devil deceives the human race, as he did Eve at the beginning, by freely giving the good which God withholds—-and lying about the bitter end which is to follow. And herein is the wickedness of unbelief. It is not a mere intellectual mistake, but a giving of confidence and allegiance to the devil and his ways, instead of to the God who has earned that confidence and allegiance. So did Eve in the garden, and so does the human race today. But faith holds fast to God in spite of all of his delays and denials, its eye always fixed upon “the end of the Lord,” fully persuaded of the blessing yet to come, and persuaded also that the coming blessing will be so much the greater and sweeter for the present denial.

Glenn Conjurske