Before there was a tabernacle, there was a garden. And in that garden, God walked with man.
The text is almost casual about it — "the voice of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day" — as if this were routine. As if the Creator of the universe strolling through Eden to spend time with His creatures was just how things worked.
It was. That was the design. Unhindered presence. No veil, no altar, no blood required. Just God and man, walking together in the cool of the evening.
Then came the fruit. The lie. The grasping for what wasn't theirs. And suddenly Adam and Eve were hiding among the trees, covering themselves with leaves, ashamed to be seen.
Notice: God still came walking. The sin didn't keep Him away. He came looking, calling, "Where are you?" — not because He didn't know, but because He wanted them to answer. He wanted them to come out of hiding.
They couldn't stay. The cherubim and flaming sword barred the way back to the tree of life. But the exile wasn't the end of the story. It was the beginning of a rescue mission that would span millennia.
Every tabernacle, every temple, every sacrifice was an attempt to restore what was lost in Eden — the presence of God with His people. And the cherubim that guarded the way back? They show up again, embroidered on the veil of the tabernacle, woven into the mercy seat. The same creatures that barred the entrance now decorated the place where God's presence dwelt.
The way back was always the plan. Eden wasn't abandoned. It was being rebuilt.