A reflection on the mystery of embodiment, union, and what was lost — and remembered.
By Kellie J. Wright
“This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh…”
— Genesis 2:23, ESV
Part One: Before the Fall
Before the Fall, there was flesh —
but not the kind we know now.
Not the aching, aging, breaking skin
we wear like armor, like consequence.
No.
There was another kind of covering.
Not of skin, but of glory.
Some say we were clothed in light (אור),
radiating the presence of the One who breathed us to life.
Then came the exchange —
light (אור) for skin (עור).
One letter changed.
One world shifted.
Adam saw her and named her not in ownership,
but in recognition:
“This at last… bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh.”
— Genesis 2:23
Not shame.
Not division.
But union.
Before the Fall, we were not fleshless —
but we were not bound by flesh.
The body was a temple, not a tomb.
Desire was clean.
Union was whole.
There was no veil between soul and skin.
But we reached.
We took.
We tasted knowledge that weighed more than we could carry.
And suddenly, the covering of light
was gone.
We were clothed —
not just in garments of skin,
but in limitation.
Gravity.
Toil.
A new kind of flesh
that remembered Eden like a dream
just barely out of reach.
And yet,
we still carry the echo.
In our tears.
In our longing.
In every sacred ache that says,
This is not how it was meant to be.
But the story doesn’t end in the garden.
The same God who gave us skin
also gave us the promise:
You will be clothed again.
Not in shame,
but in glory.
Part Two: The Mystery of Nails — Flesh Reconsidered
Upon further contemplation, I found myself circling back to something curious I had once read in a midrash:
Genesis Rabbah 20:12 suggests that Adam’s original “skin” was not like ours.
Not soft.
Not porous.
Not breakable.
Some say it was like light (אור).
Others say it was like… nails.
At first, I misunderstood.
When I read “nails,” my mind went straight to nails you hammer —
metal, utilitarian, painful.
And oddly enough, I had just written an article about a chip in my nail —
a tiny wound that unexpectedly led me deeper into healing.
You can’t make this stuff up.
Then another thought came to me:
Maybe it meant our skin was hard like armor.
That felt closer…
but still, something didn’t resonate.
So I kept seeking.
And I’m so grateful I did.
God is good.
And when we seek, He reveals.
This is why research matters.
This is why seeking is holy.
This is why language itself can become a lamp to the soul.
In Hebrew, the word for skin after the Fall is or (עור), spelled with an ayin.
But before the Fall, some sages taught we were clothed in or (אור), spelled with an aleph — light.
One letter changed.
One veil fell.
And then… nails.
In the ancient world, nails weren’t just cosmetic or decorative.
They were sacred. Symbolic.
Translucent.
Incorruptible.
Protective.
Luminous.
The only part of the human body that does not decay in the same way as flesh.
According to the Midrash, nails represented the kind of covering we once had —
a kind of radiant armor,
a holy sheath of light,
not vulnerable to death or time.
They were not a mistake in creation.
They were remnants.
Echoes.
Biological psalms carved into our very fingertips.
“This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh…”
Adam wasn’t simply identifying matter.
He was naming a return —
to connection, to communion, to wholeness.
When we fell, we didn’t receive bodies for the first time.
We received bodies subject to decay.
What was once glory became groaning.
What was once light became weight.
And yet…
God didn’t strip us of memory.
The soul remembers.
The body weeps.
Even our nails grow toward the light.
We are not only waiting for resurrection.
We are already carrying the clues of glory within us.
Part Three: Clothed Again — The Glory to Come
The story doesn’t end in the garden.
God never leaves His creation undone.
What was once clothed in light, then lost,
will be clothed again — this time, forever.
Scripture tells us:
“Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.”
— 2 Corinthians 4:16
“This perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality.”
— 1 Corinthians 15:53
Not just soul salvation —
but body restoration.
We are not meant to remain in broken flesh.
We are meant to be made new — body, soul, and spirit —
clothed once more in the radiance of God.
Jesus, the second Adam, came to reverse the curse.
At His transfiguration, His body shone like the sun (Matthew 17:2) —
a glimpse of what was lost… and what will be restored.
At His resurrection, the promise was sealed:
We, too, shall rise.
Through Him, the veil is torn again —
but this time, not between light and skin,
but between death and life.
And it was nails — real nails, hammered through holy flesh —
that made the way.
Not a misunderstanding.
Not a mistake.
A sacred thread
woven all the way through.
Because it was through those nails
that the glory was restored.
The covering returned.
The path opened.
So now we wait.
Not passively —
but faithfully.
The soul remembers.
The Spirit groans.
And the body?
It reaches —
growing, healing, transforming —
toward what it was always meant to become.
Even the chipped nail.
Even the scar.
Even the longing in our bones.
All of it
being rewritten
in Christ.
We will be clothed again.
Not in shame.
Not in limitation.
But in glory.
You are held. You are seen. You are in the circle of grace, too.
With grace and presence,
Kellie J. Wright
Transformation Guide | Author | Speaker
Creator of Internal Journeys™ and Internal Narcissus™
Host of the From Light to Christ™ Podcast
“Truth and beauty are only a flip of the switch away.”
www.kelliejwright.com
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