“Do you have any stories about how kids really are?” As a child, and bored with reading kid literature that didn’t seem true to life, Stephen King asked that question to a book-cart attendant who handed him a copy of William Golding’s classic, Lord of the Flies. 

Lord of the Flies tells the story of a group of British Boys stranded on a deserted island in the middle of a raging war. With no adult supervision, the boys bide their time playing, swimming, and exploring. But they soon develop overpowering urges to compete, hunt, and kill. They also believe a savage beast is terrorizing them at night. 

At one point in the story, the protagonist, a Christ-figure named Simon, announces to the group, “Maybe there is a beast. What I mean is…maybe it’s only us.” Not surprisingly, Simon is later killed by the boys, who mistake him for the beast. His death is violent and mob-like. It begins with the hunting chant that rallies the hunters:  

“Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood! Do him in!”…At once the crowd surged after it, poured down the rock, leapt on to the beast, screamed, struck, bit, tore. There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws (156).  

Once clean, civil, and dignified, the boys now resemble savages. Others die before the boys are rescued on the beach by a Naval officer. Covered in blood, ash, and tears, they leave the island a smoldering wasteland. It’s a disturbing story, but not unfamiliar. 

Golding, a British school teacher for years, was seeking to show how boys might live when impulse, not order, ruled their heart. A similar story had already been written. Genesis 6 shows us “how people really are.” It’s a bleak picture of humanity:   

The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And the Lord regretted that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. So the Lord said, “I will blot out man whom I have created from the face of the land, man and animals and creeping things and birds of the heavens, for I am sorry that I have made them.” But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord. -Genesis 6:5–8

Only a few chapters earlier, God appraised His creation, and declared it very good. But now, like Golding’s savage boys, humans have been mastered by uncontrollable impulses. They’ve mismanaged God’s good creation and made a smoldering mess of everything. Can you conceive of a more comprehensive statement of evil? “Every intention…only evil…continually.” Nobody passes. Complete ruin. Depravity unchecked. 

Zombies, devouring one another, destroying themselves. Genesis 6 is pandemonium. It’s Lord of the Flies for everyone. And Simon was right. The beast is inside us. We’re savage. God’s judgment begins with the heart, not the actions. We say "Robby is a cheater, because he cheats." God says "Robby cheats because Robby is a cheater.” Man’s heart, his mission control center, is sick, corrupt, infected. 

The account continues in verse 11: 

Now the earth was corrupt in God’s sight, and the earth was filled with violence. And God saw the earth, and behold, it was corrupt, for all flesh had corrupted their way on the earth. And God said to Noah, “I have determined to make an end of all flesh, for the earth is filled with violence through them. Behold, I will destroy them with the earth. Genesis 6:11–13.

Hear a theme? The world was full of corruption and violence—ripe for judgment. It goes from bad to worse. Creation is unravelling. But good news emerges if we look closely: 

First, the Lord’s heart is filled with pain. As one writer notes, “The portrait of God in Genesis 6 shows us, not a God enraged over the violation of creation, but a God in tears.” Our sin grieves God. As sickened as we are by corruption and violence, God is more sickened. His heart is filled with pain. The same word was used of Eve’s agony in childbirth and later in Isaiah, to describe the anguish of an abandoned spouse.  

Secondly, in the middle of all the hate and darkness, we see a gleam of hope. Noah found grace. He didn’t earn it. He found it. God singled Noah out for favor. God’s grace changes Noah into a righteous man, a blameless man in his generations. He stands out. He walks with God. And God will use Noah as an agent of rescue.

As the Lord prepares to “blot out” all living things, he chooses also to “blot out” Noah’s sin and guilt, like He would David’s hundreds of years later (2 Sam. 12:13, Psalm 51:1). 

Third, God makes a way of escape. He shows mercy, both to Noah’s family, and creation. He gives instructions for an Ark. Noah is the builder, but he is also a preacher (2 Pet. 2:5). For 120 years, as Noah prepared the Ark, he warned the world of God’s coming judgment. No doubt he invited mankind to repent, believe, and enter the Ark.  

But even as the world watched the Ark being built, they rejected Noah’s message of rescue and repentance. They would not believe. They would not enter the Ark. And therefore, they perished in the flood of judgment.

Finally, we see God making an unconditional promise to Noah—and we see God keeping His promise. We read in chapter 8, “God remembered Noah.” 

For 150 lonely days Noah floated over an entire civilization that sank in judgment. He was alone on the sea with his family and the animals. Nothing in sight for miles. How joyful Noah must have felt to hear God’s voice again. Comforting him, instructing him, confirming His promise to Him. 

In response, Noah remembered God. He built an altar of sacrifice and offered burnt offerings to God. It was a picture of his atonement. It was genuine worship. Noah thanked God for His astonishing deliverance. And God pointed Noah to the rainbow in the sky, a perpetual reminder of His unconditional love, patience, and deliverance for those who enter the true and better Ark of God’s rescue: Jesus Christ.