Jill and Stuart Briscoe - Theres a Snake in My Garden: A Spiritual Autobiography

W hen one has enjoyed two people as we have enjoyed Stuart and Jill Briscoe and been helped by their biblical ministry as we have been helped, one is more than interested to read something about their own spiritual pilgrimage. Being a woman, I wanted to know more about this remarkable woman and what makes her tick. I expected something honest, humourous, inspirational and challenging. It was all that and more.

Ruth B. Graham

The serpent was the craftiest of all the creatures the Lord God had made (Genesis 3:1, TLB).

The Snake

Did you ever hear of Satan or are you an unbeliever?

Did you ever laugh deridingly and prove him archdeceiver?

Did you ever hear of Calvary and shrug Why should I care?

Did you ever care that Gods one Son was mutilated there?

Did you ever see an empty cross and face an empty tomb?

Did you know he rose the victor oer the snake and hell and doom?

Did you ever join his army, did you ever take your shield?

Did you ever march out sword in hand onto the battlefield?

Did you ever find the ranks grow thin the worse the fight became?

Did you ever watch men in retreat: the blind, the halt, the lame?

Did you ever notice nearer Christ the arrows thicker land?

Did you ever see the impact in his side, his feet, his hand?

Did you ever fully realise that Christ died without protection?

That you may have his armour, not act traitor by defection?

Did you ever wonder why he waits and tolerates lukewarmness?

And your pitiful rebellion and your coldness and your hardness?

And your casual indifference and your hunger for possessions?

Did you know he stops the arrows by his constant intercessions?

Did you ever thank your Jesus, did it ever break your heart?

Did you ever go out fighting and decide to play your part?

If you ever get around to war and put your armour on,

Then the snake will be defeated to the glory of Gods Son.

I always believed in God, that Jesus Christ was his Son, and that the Bible was true. My parents taught me the difference between right and wrong. Right was being good, which would make me and everyone else happy; wrong was being bad, which would make me and everyone else sad. Why, then, did I find myself wanting to be bad instead of good? Why did wrongdoing bring me enjoyment? Why was being good dull and boring? Maybe someone had given me the wrong information.

Everything in my garden was lovely. Any legitimate tree was mine to enjoy: the tree of education; the tree of recreation; the tree of travel; the trees of fine friendships and wholesome entertainment; the precious trees of a loving family and carefree days. Of these I freely ate. But like Eve, I found myself desiring to possess above all others the fruit from the one tree I was forbidden to touch!

As for Eve, so for me. The forbidden tree stood among the forest of permitted things. Daily it reminded me of one of Gods choicest gifts to human beings created in his image the gift of my free will.

I didnt know it then, but along with the trees in my garden there was also a snake. He came to me as he came to Eve in familiar form for his devices have never changed. He spoke to me through people Id known all my life; my friends who lived in the garden, too, so I was not alarmed or suspicious.

Eat the fruit. We have, and we didnt drop dead! So I took it, too, because I had to know what it tasted like. I didnt realise that the process of death begins with the first bite; by the time the fruit is finished, you begin to feel pretty sick.

I loved and respected my parents too much to hurt them. But I felt they wouldnt understand my rationalising my sin and calling it growing up. So I decided the best thing to do was to pretend to be good when they were around. Meanwhile, I learned to eat my fruit in parts of the garden inhabited only by the snake and myself!

For example, I knew I shouldnt read dirty books, so I didnt. But dirty thoughts were better and could be indulged in behind the smile. Id been told it was wrong to cheat at exams, but I could dispense with my guilt by arguing that cheating made for better grades, and better grades for happier parents as long as I wasnt caught! But what if I was? Well, then I could always chloroform my conscience and lie myself out of the situation. Wouldnt that be kinder than telling the truth, which would cause hurt and embarrassment to those I loved?

By now I was eighteen and becoming increasingly confused. I was definitely not fulfilled. Something or someone was still missing. I looked around at others. Had they discovered the secret of life? Sometimes I got behind their smiles and saw reality. One of the wealthiest men I knew committed suicide. Material things obviously hadnt helped him fill the void. My sick friend in the hospital wasnt happy, but she blamed her health problem. I had my health, so that wasnt the answer either. Another friend wasnt satisfied, tossed to and fro as she was between parents with marriage problems. Yet living as I was in the midst of love, generated by my parents happy marriage, I still knew insecurity.

Somehow I sensed that the answer lay not in material things or even in the enjoyment of the good things in life such as health and happiness, but somewhere in the mystical, moral realm the good and the bad bit! But goodness seemed so hard to define, and badness had begun to make me sick of myself, so where was the answer? What did I have to do? Where did I have to go? How good did I need to become, or how bad did I have to be to find what? In my confusion, I didnt know what I was looking for. Maybe it was waiting for me in another garden, a new environment.

My chance came to prove the point when I was accepted at a teachers training college at Cambridge.

Yes, I assured the interviewer, I love little children, while behind the smile the snake snickeringly hissed, You do?!

Once established at college, the snakes cynicism proved correct. Little children were soon categorised in my mind as so much necessary nuisance value. They made demands on my precious, trivia-filled time that I needed for my headlong rush to find new trees laden with fruit I had never dared to taste in my beautifully protected garden back home.