In the beginning.
These are the first three words of Scripture, and they burst with promise.
If Moses was indeed the author of the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible), perhaps he began here – in the beginning – as if to insist:
The story I’m about to tell you is headed somewhere. It has meaning and purpose. There is congruence to its parts.
In the beginning, at least as I read it, seems to say something inherent about the narrative architecture of God’s story. As a student of literature, I recognize in the beginning as a familiar point of departure: I head into the rising action. I anticipate conflict, then climax, and imagine myself making descent into the dénouement. Falling, falling, falling, I will fall into resolution.
This story is going to make sense to me. Because in the beginning begs to make sense of it. Begs me to consider that if there is architecture to this story, then surely there is an Architect.
That is the leap of faith we make in the first three words of the Scripture: in the beginning.