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SERMON
First a brief introduction. As Ted and Bruce and I were talking about the preaching this year, it seemed right to us that we should begin a series of studies in the Old Testament. Perhaps no book in the world is better known on the outside and more consistently ignored on the inside than the first three-fourths of our Bible. And yet the books of the Old Testament are the same Scriptures on which Jesus was raised and to which he constantly referred during his adult ministry. So it seems to me that if these books were that important to our Lord, we have more than sufficient reason to study them ourselves.
Now, I assure you we don't intend to do an exhaustive verse-by-verse exposition of all thirty-nine books. What we do hope to give you, however, is a kind of overview - a series of "satellite picture" with some fine detail; but more with an eye to catching the scope and sweep of this magnificent revelation of God's will and work. I'm looking forward to these sermons as a sort of premeditated meandering through the Bible; stopping now and then to look and wonder, and to ask what God might be saying to us today through these ancient but timeless words.
And where better to begin than with Genesis - a title that is simply a transliteration of the Greek word for "birth" - a word that means substantially the same thing as the first word of the Hebrew Scriptures, Bereshith, which is translated "in the beginning." So Genesis is the story of humanity's beginnings (that is: our birth) from God's point of view. It isn't the story of how humans gradually emerged from the primordial slime and finally evolved to the point at which we were able to recognize God's existence. It starts with God, before humans ever existed; and it traces the way God has been at work in human history every step of the way.
The book of Genesis falls conveniently into two sections: chapters 1-11 and 12-50. The first eleven chapters deal with the deterioration of human life from initial perfection through disobedience to coming under the judgment of the Creator. That first section focuses on four major events: the creation, the fall, the flood, and the confusion of languages. The rest of Genesis, from Chapter 12 to the end, traces God's unfolding plan to redeem fallen humanity. And this second section centers around four major characters: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph.
So today I want to spend some time considering the creation story. When a high school science teacher named John Scopes went on trial in Dayton Tennessee in 1925 for teaching Darwin's theory of evolution, that event triggered a debate that has carried on to this day. But despite what many of us grew up believing, I don't think the Genesis account was ever meant to be understood as a scientific explanation of creation. The story of creation in Genesis is a magnificently inspired statement of faith. Regardless of the details of how it happened - whether Big Bang or Little Whimper - the supreme affirmation of faith in Genesis is that it didn't just "happen." God made it happen!
Now, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather sidestep the controversy over authorship or over evolutionism vs. creationism. There's certainly an appropriate place for apologetics in the Old Testament. But frankly, I find it difficult to get worked up over such arguments; and I don't find such debates of much help in my journey of faith. So today I want to approach the Genesis account of creation as God's inspired truth given to us in a narrative story form. In other words, when God inspired the writing of Genesis, he intended to say some very specific things to us. And one of those things was evidently important enough that God said it six times in the first chapter.
You'll find the line in verses 5, 8, 13, 19, 23 and 31: "And there was evening, and there was morning - the first (through sixth) day(s)." Most commentators evidently regard this as either a literary device to divide a piece of narrative poetry into six discrete pieces, or as a way of denoting the distinct stages of creation, whether they be 24-hour periods or epochs or ages. But listen again to the curious way it is worded. "And there was evening, and there was morning - the first day." Does that strike you as a bit odd?
I can assure you that is not how my day goes. My average day begins somewhere between 5:30 and 6:45 AM with a basset hound who needs to be "walked" or a wife who needs a cup of coffee. Then, along with breakfast, there are things to do to get ready for work. (Please feel free at any time to substitute your own schedule for my little litany.) Sometimes my workday will begin on the computer at home. Often it's off to the church or rounds at the hospital or an early meeting. The day's work is filled with conferences and counseling and praying with people; reading and reflecting, preparing sermons and reports and lessons, driving and administering. Around 6:00 PM I'll have some supper, and sometimes go at it again for a few hours in the evening.
Then, after coming home and unwinding for a while, I'll brush my teeth and go to bed. And I suppose someone might cap it off with the statement: "And there was morning and there was evening - on an average day." I say that because almost everything that happens in my day runs from morning through the evening when, at last, I find myself once more blissfully wrapped in arms of Morpheus (which, incidentally is not my wife's name.)
But in Genesis chapter 1 in which we read about God our Creator's work day, it says: "And there was evening, and there was morning - the first day." Now why did God inspire the author of Genesis to put it that way? Although most of us begin in the morning and end with evening, it would appear that from very early on, God was in the habit of working the night shift - starting with the evening and ending in the morning. What do you suppose God might be teaching us by this order of words?
Most commentaries, as far as I know, don't even ask that question. They simply see it as a device of Hebrew poetry to mark the verses. Then they'll launch into an elaborate discussion of the length of those first days, or some other form of speculation. In his commentary, John Calvin at least notes the difference in order; but eventually even Calvin comes to the conclusion that it makes no real difference, since the intent is clearly to denote certain periods of time.
But what do you think would happen if we let the Scriptures speak for themselves? Suppose we were to take the phrase quite literally and accept it as such. When evening came, God started working. He spoke! And at his word he created light out of darkness and separating them into day and night. And by the time he was done with that piece of work it was morning.
When evening came again, God went back to work - dividing the waters above and below the earth. And by the time he finished that job it was morning. The next evening God started on the land, and before he was done, he had created all forms of vegetation. When morning came, God looked at what he had accomplished and he said: "This is good!" The Hebrew word tov, which we translate "good," carries connotations of completion and blessing and well being.
The next evening God created all the heavenly bodies and the ways by which we could mark the passing of days and seasons and years. He created those myriad points of reference by which we would be able to navigate, to find our way. And when morning came, again he saw that it was good.
The following evening God created all the creatures of the air and the waters. When the evening of the sixth day came, God created all the creatures of the land; and again, he saw that it was good. But before morning was spent on that sixth day of creation, God made a creature like none other. In his own image, God made man - male and female. With the morning of that sixth day of creation, God looked around. And with his work complete, God set his blessing on everything he had made. "Thus," says the author of Genesis, "the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array." To me, these verses paint an unforgettable picture of God working through the night, from evening until morning, so that his creation might be blessed and celebrate his work during the day.
I find God saying something quite powerful here to each of us, not only about the nature and order of the days and months and years of our lives, but also about the nature and order of our salvation. From the very first words of Scripture, the message is that God has been at work during the darkest times so that we might be blessed and live in the light. That is the picture I find in the marvelous creation story of Genesis chapter 1. Before we realized what was going on, God did it all for us. He worked through the night so that when his creation was complete, he could bless us and tell us to be fruitful and multiply.
But it's just as true of our salvation. And as we work our way through Scripture we'll find this same recurrent story of people living in the darkness of sin, blind to God and deaf to his call. But having loved them from before their birth, and having chosen them from before the creation of the world, God was already at work in the darkest times of their lives. He put people and circumstances in their paths to turn them to him. He nudged and prompted them from within by his Spirit. And whenever and wherever people responded to him, it was like the dawn had come. They saw for the first time all that God had done for them.
That's what Jesus did for you and me when he died on the cross in the darkness of that hour. And when I first realized that he had done that work for me, it was like the lights went on for the first time. I woke up. It was finally morning. So now, when I read that inspired account of creation in Genesis, with God working through the night for our benefit, how can I not confess, in the words of St. Paul, that "while we were sinners, Christ died for us." When we could do nothing, God worked so that when the morning came, we could see his love and embrace him.
And this truth is just as valid for the way we live our lives. Most of us, I daresay, live as though the heart of our activities are the things we do during our waking hours from morning until evening. In fact, we think they're so important that sometimes we'll lie awake, stewing and fretting over all the things we have to do. I wonder if, at those times, we have simply forgotten that God still works the night shift.
To me, one of the timeless truths of Scripture is that, from evening until morning, God works. He who neither slumbers nor sleeps watches over his own. So when I go to sleep, I can say to myself: "I wonder what God is up to tonight. I wonder what good things he's doing in the hearts of his people. I wonder what he is doing in places where I can do nothing." I'll tell you one thing. It beats counting sheep.
We parents whose children have grown and/or moved away may lie awake; concerned because there seems to be little or nothing we can do for them. When we can't express our love for them or support them, we can say to ourselves: "I wonder what God is doing through the night shift with our children," as we lay down our heads and our worries in sleep. The same is true for all about whom we care.
And when we wake up in the morning, thinking about this passage might make a significant difference in the way we approach the new day. Instead of being preoccupied with memories of unfinished business, we might be inclined to ask, "Lord, what did you do last night about those concerns I had? What have you been up to with those people to whom I minister and those I love? As I face this new day, Lord, where can I fit in with what you've been doing, so that I can be a co-worker with you in the business you've already begun?"
Mornings turn into celebrations of a new day. Worries can turn to wonder. Planning can turn to watching to see what God has been up to. The opening verses of Genesis remind us that God still works the night shift, and we still celebrate the benefits.
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