Most people today, especially those shaped by modern education and scientific culture, find it difficult to believe that the early chapters of the Book of Genesis describe real events in human history. The idea of a literal Garden of Eden, a man formed from dust, a woman from his rib, a talking serpent, and a global flood that wiped out all life except for one family on a wooden ark—these seem to defy reason, biology, geology, and every branch of modern science. For this reason, many people set Genesis aside entirely, dismissing it as ancient myth or religious folklore that no longer speaks to the serious thinker.
Almost all people who say they don’t believe the narratives in Genesis have never read Genesis. All they know is what they have heard from pop culture, television, and movies. Quite frankly, if that’s all they know, then they are wise not to believe it. But reading the actual words of Genesis from the Bible can be very worthwhile. There is wisdom there to be mined.
If a skeptic rejects the Genesis accounts as being historical in the modern sense of the word, then the proper approach to the Genesis 1-11 narratives may be to read them not as scientific reports, but as spiritual parables—stories designed to convey moral and theological truths rather than literal facts. This does not mean the narratives are false. It means they may be true in a different way—true to the nature of humanity, true to the nature of God, and true to the inner conflicts and spiritual needs that persist across every generation.
For example, consider the story of Adam and Eve. Even if one doubts the existence of a literal Eden, the account of the first man and woman speaks to a deep and universal truth: human beings are moral creatures, capable of choosing between right and wrong, and often tempted to cross boundaries set for their own good. The story captures something profound about the experience of guilt, the loss of innocence, and the estrangement people feel—from each other, from nature, and from God. These themes are as relevant now as they were thousands of years ago.
The story of Cain and Abel, likewise, speaks to sibling rivalry, envy, and the tragedy of violence. The Tower of Babel reveals humanity’s prideful desire to exalt itself, and the resulting confusion and division that often follow. And the story of Noah’s flood, however fantastical it may seem, reflects a sobering truth: societies can become so corrupt that judgment seems inevitable, and salvation requires both grace and obedience.
Parables are not meant to be measured by geology or carbon dating. They are meant to be pondered, like poetry or proverbs. They speak in symbols. They reach the conscience, not just the intellect. Jesus Himself taught using parables—stories about farmers, seeds, servants, and lost sons. No one considers those parables false simply because they are not literal history. Their purpose was to reveal deeper spiritual truths through imagery that touched the heart. The same may be said of Genesis chapters 1-11: if read as parable, it becomes not less valuable, but more accessible and insightful to the modern reader.
So the skeptic should not turn away from Genesis too quickly. Rather, set aside the question of historical fact—at least temporarily, you can come back to that question later—and ask instead, “What is this story trying to show me about myself? About life? About God?” You may discover that the oldest book in the Bible still has something new to teach, even to those who doubt it.