New series on the Old Testament
Today we launch a new sermon series about the Old Testament. Some members requested it. Some folks have asked why we even use the Old Testament. It seems like there, God is always angry. There are archaic laws about oxen and fabric blends that don’t apply to us. Isn’t the New Testament the upgrade, the part we need?
I get it. But there is a lot of good in there too, and it’s hard to understand the New Testament without having a sense of what happened in the Old Testament. Despite all of the unhelpful stuff, there’s a lot that is extremely informative on how to live a good, purposeful, spiritual life. Always focus on the positive. If we dismiss it wholesale, we risk missing the forest for the trees.
What is your moment of awe?
Have you ever stood in a grove of giant redwood trees that are so old they could have been saplings when Jesus was in the second grade? Your eye follows the enormous trunks upward until you are craning your neck and realizing you cannot even see the top. The lush canopy shades create small windows where sunlight streams through. An ocean of ferns carpets the forest floor. Olive-colored banana slugs nestle against each other, and the silence feels sacred and mystical.
The outside world and its problems no longer feel so urgent. It seems as if you’ve time-traveled to prehistoric eras. And you just stand there in awe, soaking it in. It’s more than merely thinking, “This would be a cool postcard.” No. You feel part of it and sense the experience will be part of you—forever. You can almost hear Genesis’s echo, “And God saw that it was good.” Instinctively, you move slowly and reverently.
Or maybe for you, it was peering into the Grand Canyon or resting beside a gurgling mountain stream. Or maybe looking into a grandchild’s face. Absorbing the choir’s intricate harmonies, getting lost in art or conversation with people you enjoy. Where is it for you that you’ve felt that mystical, sacred connectedness to something that makes your heart sing?
I’m so grateful that you provided me the sabbatical time to travel the country and feel those connections. I needed it. I was spending too much time doomscrolling, worrying about the world, seeing everything in political terms. I felt something was getting a little “off” within my spirit. Something is healing and restorative about spending time in nature. It gave me a different pace to savor the wonders that surround us, always. I mean, what is life about if you’re not paying attention to the joys right in front of you?
Moments of awe teach us how to read Genesis
I think recalling that sense of connection and sacredness is a good mood to adopt when reading Genesis 1. I don’t think the authors were trying to write a science book. They wrote a poem that affirms the sacredness of the natural world and expresses gratitude for our place in it—latecomers to it all. Part of creation, not above it. For me, it doesn’t work to read it as a substitute for science. It’s the poetic language evoking wonder and moral imagination. One doesn’t have to feel like science and faith compete with each other, a false dichotomy of one instead of the other. They are asking different questions.
Science asks, How does the redwood tree grow? Why so tall? What conditions are necessary to make it so? Genesis asks whether we can appreciate their majesty and their vulnerability. Are we so hard and preoccupied that we cannot simply be grateful for what is around us? Science reveals that redwoods can grow so tall because their root systems are intertwined. Faith teaches us to intertwine with nature and one another. We rise higher when we connect.
Savoring the Goodness in People
And included in the love poem to creation is an affirmation of the innate goodness of every person, created in the image of God. It elevates our view of our neighbors, including those with whom we disagree and even those who sometimes act like numbskulls. Genesis affirms every person’s inherent sacred worth. That does not mean every action is good. People can act cruelly, abusively, or destructively, but never lose their fundamental human worth. We do stupid stuff, too.
My sabbatical reminded me to slow down long enough to embrace what Genesis declares: creation is good, every person bears sacred worth, and our calling is to pay attention until we can recognize that goodness everywhere, but hurry, cynicism, and distraction make us blind to it.
Paying Attention to Coincidences
The redwoods trained my attention for grandeur. A much smaller experience began training it for connection. I was reminded of this by an amazing string of coincidences on my trip. Einstein said that coincidences are God’s way of remaining anonymous. One friend said, “I don’t believe in prayer, but I found that when I do pray, coincidences are more likely to happen.” Maybe it just makes us more awake to them.
After I left church on Easter Sunday, I thought I needed to bring some fiction to read. I had plenty of non-fiction books I wanted to catch up on but wanted something fun. So on my way out of the church, I picked up a novel at the little book exchange on the neighbor’s wall just outside the parking lot.
About a month into the trip, Dayna said she needed something to read. I told her I had a book in my bag she could read. “What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Some novel. I don’t remember anything about it, but you’re free to grab it.”
She didn’t. But later, she said she downloaded a book recommended by a Facebook friend.
“What’s it called?” I asked.
She told me. It sounded familiar. Out of the billions of novels in the world, it was the same book I had in my bag. She read it and said I should read it, too.
When I opened it, I saw that the book had been signed on the inside cover by Diane Donaldson, a church member. She has good taste, so I started reading it.
As I sat in a lounger, I noticed that the woman sitting next to me had the same book. “I just started it,” I said.
“Me too,” she said.
“I’m only on page 27.” I said.
She opened her book. “O wow! That’s the page I’m on.”
Dayna said, “I think the universe is telling you to finish it.”
When I returned from sabbatical, I went into Pastor Susie’s office, and the same book was sitting on top of a pile of books on her table. I told her about all the coincidences, and she said our book club had read it and that it was the book Christi Dysart had been reading to her mother-in-law, Sandra, on her deathbed.
The book is Theo of Golden.
It’s a delightful story about a man who takes the time to seek people out and listen deeply to their stories, the stuff that makes them tick, how they deal with sadness, and their need for someone to really see them and validate them. He treats people as worthy of attention. He listens until their hidden goodness becomes plain. Maybe any coincidence is just an opportunity knocking on the door to pay attention and find the holiness that happens when we do.
Paying attention creates connection.
As a community, we can follow this example by intentionally listening to each other’s stories, recognizing the divine in each person, and affirming their inherent goodness, thereby transforming our relationships and strengthening our bonds.
And God knows that is good.
Maybe there are more coincidences to follow. I’m curious about what you might find if you slow down long enough to focus your attention on what is good.
Let me venture this. I came back wanting to remind you that ordinary life is crowded with gifts we hurry past. Creation asks us to notice its beauty and vulnerability. People desperately need someone who will listen to their stories.
That life, nature, and the people around you are a gift. They need you to pay attention and listen to their stories so you can affirm the goodness in them. To be more curious and less judgmental. Seek to listen, not label.
Affirming your efforts and intrinsic goodness.
So go find your redwoods. You don’t have to travel far. They’re in a quiet kitchen, a church hallway, a grandchild’s face, the person next to you in this pew who’s had a harder week than you know. Stop. Pay attention. Let it slow you down the way that grove slowed me.
And when you do — when you really see what’s standing in front of you — you’ll hear that old echo again. Not just about redwoods, or oceans, or stars. Savor the sense of awe.
About you. About the person beside you.
And God saw that it was good.
Go give that kind of attention this week. Amen.