At the beginning of the 21st century it seems that we human beings are faced with a huge dilemma. Our understanding of the world we live in is greater now than at any time in history, yet our understanding of our place in that world is perhaps at its lowest point ever.
If you were to come into my office later and connect to the Internet you’d discover unimagined layers of information available to you at the touch of a few keys. There’s more knowledge available to you via your computer today than existed in the entire State Library 50 years ago. But of course in among all the useful information are page upon page of other useless, even offensive material. [Creation: 8,520,000 references]
When you leave later today, most of you will get into a car that has a more sophisticated computer controlling it than the one that was used when Neil Armstrong landed on the moon. Yet the increase in the number of cars on the road means that you take twice as long to get where you’re going than you did in Neil Armstrong’s day.
Our communication technology has developed to an incredible extent. Mobile phones, satellite systems, Internet chat rooms all mean that people have an unprecedented ability to connect. This sermon will be read by people all around the world sometime today or tomorrow. Yet with all our ability to communicate, people seem to be less connected than ever before.
As technology and science have improved our way of life, we seem to have been slipping in other areas of human knowledge, particularly in the area of belief.
The trouble is that as technology increased during the 19th and into the 20th century humanism began its rise. People began to think that they had the answers. Science and technology would solve all our problems. We wouldn’t need God any more. The biological scientists added their bit with the theory of evolution which suggested that life came about by chance. There was no longer a place for a creator God. Science had shown him to be redundant. We could explain how life came to be the way it is without any reference to a supernatural being.
But then, if life came about by a process of blind chance, where did that place human will? Well, the existentialists had an answer for that. Human will was irrelevant. We’re all subject to the chaos in which we live. Globalisation has made it worse. There’s little we can do to make a difference. So just make the most of what you have. Take your chances when they come. The only certainty in life is death. In the face of that idea you have two choices. Succumb to anxiety or live freely in the face of your own mortality. Flee into the safety of the herd or face the threat of nothingness by creating your own reality.
It’s depressing when you put it like that isn’t it? Yet that’s the underlying philosophy that our children are growing up with. It’s no wonder depression is on the rise is it?
Even those who argue that the human being is the highest form of life because we’re the highest on the evolutionary curve, struggle when they think about the evil behaviour of some of our fellow human beings. The revelations of the mistreatment of prisoners by US Soldiers in Iraq lately leave most of us appalled. How is this army, from the most developed of societies, any further advanced than those of, say, Attila the Hun, or Genghis Khan? You see, this idea that we’ve evolved from lower forms of life doesn’t actually help us when it comes to dealing with evil in the world. There’s no moral imperative in evolution. It’s just the survival of the fittest. If I’ve just got here by accident, by a series of chance events, why should I care whether what I do has any moral standard attached to it?
And why is it that we consider life to be so precious? I was talking to someone in hospital the other day who was really worried about whether they’d survive their illness. But if we’re just mechanistic organisms, what does it matter if we die, as long as we don’t suffer too much, of course.
Well of course the Christian answer to those questions is that we’re not just mechanistic creatures born by chance. The chaos we see in the world isn’t all there is to say about it. In the first chapter of Genesis we read "In the beginning ... 2the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters." The waters are a picture of chaos. But into that chaos blows a wind from God. Some translations have "the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters." Chaos has been tamed by God. Psalm 46, that we just read says "Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; 3though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult." And why will we not fear? Because as well as the sea with its raging chaos, there’s also a river that feeds living water to the people of God and the city in which they dwell is God’s city. "4There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. 5God is in the midst of the city; it shall not be moved; God will help it when the morning dawns. (i.e. when the attacks of the enemy come.)"
Yes there are places of seeming chaos, but even there, God is watching over his creation, bringing order out of that chaos. In fact the chaos we see in creation is a direct result, we’re told in the first chapters of the bible, of the disobedience of the first human beings. The breakdown in their relationship with God resulted in the breakdown of their relationships with each other and with the creation in general. Work would be difficult, weeds would grow up, childbirth would be painful. They’d compete with each other for supremacy. The first thing we read about after they leave the garden of Eden, is Cain killing his brother Abel.
Yet even as that chaos springs forth upon the earth we read that God promises that one of Eve’s offspring will crush the head of Satan. As they’re being sent out of the Garden in naked embarrassment, God provides them with clothes to hide their shame. God is still in control. Still providing for his people.
So we begin to see the first of 3 implications of God as creator of the heavens and the earth.
This first implication is actually taken up by the psalmist at the end of Psalm 46, as well as being hinted at by John in the passage that we also heard a moment ago. Listen to the end of Psalm 46: "9He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow, and shatters the spear; he burns the shields with fire. 10’Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth.’" Listen to what John says about the coming of Jesus to live among his own people: "10He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. 11He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God."
If God is the one who made the earth, then what should happen when he speaks? People should stop and take notice, shouldn’t they? What should they do when his only begotten Son appears among them? They should receive him as their Lord, shouldn’t they?
So here’s the 1st implication: This is God’s world and he’s in charge. If he tells us to stop fighting wars, why do we persist? If he tells us to love one another, why do we continue to bicker and squabble, to gossip and backbite? If he tells us to go into all the world and preach the gospel, why are we holding back?
But there’s more to this simple statement than even that. One of the problems with an atheistic worldview is what does it say about human dignity? On what basis do we value human life? Peter Singer is probably one of the best known advocates of a humanist world view in Australia at the moment. He’s fairly consistent in the way he presents ethical arguments ranging from euthanasia to ecology. He’s an advocate of euthanasia because he has no basis on which to value human life other than the personal enjoyment the individual is getting from their life. So to kill off the disabled infant is (quote) "not morally equivalent to killing a person" and the same would be said for the terminally ill or the frail aged. At the same time he’s a strong advocate of an end to whaling and any form of fishing that endangers dolphins, because these are sentient begins of equal value with human beings.
But when you begin to analyse it, he actually has no basis on which to value any life, other than an arbitrary belief that all sentient beings deserve equal consideration of their interests. His only argument for that belief is that if we follow it we’ll be happier. If we don’t we’ll never be truly happy. Well, if you find that an unsatisfactory argument you’re not on your own.
So what would be a good argument for the sanctity of life? On what do we as Christians base our belief in the value of human life? Where do we get our belief in the dignity of the human being? Well, it comes from this doesn’t it? We believe in God, the maker of heaven and earth. As part of that we believe that God made each one of us in his own image.
God made me and he made you to bear his image; to reflect by our life something of his life. When we read in Col 1:15 that Jesus is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation, it isn’t just a statement about Jesus as God. It’s also a statement about Jesus as the perfect fulfilment of God’s creation design. Jesus is the firstborn of all creation in the sense that he’s the new Adam. He’s the one human being who truly reflects God’s image the way we were meant to. And as such he foreshadows the time when we’ll be remade, given new bodies just like his body; when we’ll again fully reflect God’s image.
So we discover the 2nd implication of God as creator: I have value because I’m made by God, in his image.
Now I want to take us a bit further than that. Not only am I made in God’s image, but as I look around at the creation what do I see? I see an amazing variety of animate and inanimate objects. I seeing incredible complexity; complexity beyond human understanding at times. I see great beauty. I see playfulness, humour, joy, exuberance. I see various elements of the creation living in interdependence with each other. In short I see something of the nature of God. Paul in Romans 1:19-20 tells us that "what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. 20Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made."
So here’s the third implication of God as creator: if God made the world, then something of his nature will be seen in his creation. That’s why people from other religions are able to come up with insights about life that Christians have overlooked. Christians don’t have a monopoly on truth, not even about God. The eternal power and divine nature of God can be discerned by those who are willing to look. Because God is the God of creation, anyone can discover truths about God by observing that creation. What they won’t discover by themselves, mind you, is the whole picture. Most importantly they won’t discover God’s plan of salvation. You see, God is also a God of redemption, a God who reveals himself not only in the creation, but by his word, particularly his word made flesh. So we need to balance our understanding of God as revealed in creation, with the realisation that creation is flawed and therefore won’t always point clearly to God; that in fact God is in the process of redeeming the creation through the work of his Son and the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit to bring his plan for the world to completion.
So here’s what we’ve discovered so far. First, God is in charge of his own creation; second, I have an inherent value because I’m made by God, in his image; and thirdly, something of God’s nature can be discerned in his creation.
Well, that leads me to my response. You see it isn’t enough for us to believe all this. It isn’t sufficient to just recognise the implications of our belief. When I stand up in a few moments and say I believe, I’m implying a response of action, of commitment.
The first response comes directly out of the first implication. If God is in charge of his creation, then he’s also in charge of me. So what will I do? I’ll accept him as Lord over my life, over everything I do. I’ll obey him as my Lord. Sometimes people hear the gospel call to commitment and they either think, "I don’t want to do that. It doesn’t suit my lifestyle;" or else they think "I can’t be sure I’ll keep that commitment so I won’t even try." But if you think of it like this, neither of those responses is appropriate. God isn’t asking us to see if we can adapt our lifestyle to fit him in. It’s not like your best friend’s second cousin ringing to see if you can put them up for a few days. No, he’s the Lord of the universe who expects us, no, who requires us to do what he wants. He’s the one who made us. He’s in charge. We’re simply his creatures even if we are made in his image. And he expects us to obey what he says. He expects us to accept Jesus Christ as our Lord and king. How can a mere creature stand before God the creator and say "I’m not sure I can do what you say." We can do what he says because he also enables us to do it. His creative power is still at work in the world. His Holy Spirit is given to his people to enable them to do his will.
So my first response is to say "Yes!" to God. To accept him as my God, as the one whom I will follow, whom I will obey.
But there’s one more response I want to talk about. When we begin to think about God as creator, as we think about the early chapters of Genesis, we’re reminded of the creation mandate given to the man, to tend the earth and to take care of it. This is a task that became more difficult after the fall, but nevertheless it remains one of the responsibilities given to us by God. One of the ongoing works of Jesus Christ we’re told in Col 1 is to hold the whole universe together. The creation mandate to care for the creation was passed on to God’s people when they entered the promised land. The laws given to them through Moses included laws for the care of the land. Every seventh year the land was to be left fallow, every fiftieth year there was to be no sowing or reaping or pruning or harvesting. God’s people were to act as God’s representatives, stewards who were responsible to see that the creation was cared for.
This is an area where I think evangelical Christians, in particular, have fallen down over the last few centuries. We’ve devalued the creation for a number of reasons. We’ve seen the saving of souls as more important than the saving of the earth and as a result we’ve turned a blind eye to what’s happening in the creation. Worse still, we’re complicit in the view that the creation was made for human exploitation. And we’ve ignored the environmental impact of our behaviour in so many areas.
Sadly it’s been the atheistic humanists who have largely been responsible for awakening us to the crisis faced by our world in the area of the environment. But the time has come for us to take responsibility as God’s stewards to care for the creation. We should be leading the way in recycling, in cutting down on waste, in building energy efficient housing, in planting trees, [local churches] in reducing our use of energy, of greenhouse gases, in lobbying governments to make changes to the way we use our dwindling resources. There’s so much to do. And it’s the fact that this is God’s world, that he cares about his creation that can be our greatest motivating factor.
So this is the second response to what I believe about God the creator: I will care for the creation.
Well, time has beaten us. So I just want to leave us with one final thought. Jürgen Moltmann has suggested that the finale of creation wasn’t the creation of men and women. That was only the sixth day. Rather it was the Sabbath that was the finale. The Sabbath is more than just a cessation of work. Rather it’s a state of peace, of Shalom, of enjoyment of the creation. It points to the end of the time of effort, of restlessness, of anxiety that seems to be our common experience of life. It points to a time when we can enjoy God’s Sabbath pleasure over creation with him in peace forever.
The promise of this rest is sealed for us in the giving of God’s Holy Spirit who continues to brood over his creation until his plan is brought to completion in the new creation, in the new heavens and earth, when Christ returns.
I want to finish with a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins, "God’s Grandeur" that reflects both our misuse of the creation, yet God’s ongoing care and concern for it.
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
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