All things go! All things grow!

We have two separate Creation stories in Genesis, and they are both very, very different. The first account speaks of a Creation that is very structured—everything at its time and everything in its place. There was probably a flow chart.

But, at least in my Western, capitalist-influenced mind, there also seems to be a hierarchy, with human beings given “dominion” over the flora and fauna. God creates it all, says it is good, and then is kind of like, “Ok…have at it.”

The second story, Genesis 2, invites us to consider a more intimate, relational version of creation. God gets right down into the dirt, forming Adam from the soil and breathing life into them. Rather than God simply creating “Humanity,” God creates a single individual—Adam—and then a very specific companion, Eve. In this version, creation is not a one-time act, but an ongoing journey of God and humans struggling along, trying to figure each other out.

Soon, snakes start talking. Apples are eaten. Women get scapegoated. And then God starts in with, “I’m not mad…I’m just disappointed.” Adam and Eve are expelled from the Garden. They have babies, and one of those babies will kill the other. And on it goes, and on it goes…

You came to take us.
All things go. All things go.
To recreate us.
All things grow. All things grow.

Listen to this sermon in podcast format.

We humans never really seem to get it right…
And the Bible is filled with story after story that tells the same story.

Do you remember, in July, I told you about my very wise friend who said there was really only one story in the Bible? A story in four parts:

We are so gloriously alive.
We are so weepingly lost.
But an ancient Love rolls on, refusing not to roll on...
And again, we are so gloriously alive.

There is really only one story in the Bible. There are a lot of words. So many words. But this—this is the final word. There is really only one story in the Bible, and it gets told over and over again, by many different people in many, many different ways.

And sometimes, in layers upon layers with each other…

And how we tell these stories—the words we use—matters, too.

The way these stories have traditionally been told, especially the first creation account, often emphasizes humanity being set apart and above everything else. A separation. It doesn’t focus on our inextricable connection to the rhythm of creation. But it's a very intentional rhythm. It is music.

When the universe was a formless void…God notices what is missing. God responds and creates. God names it good. There is evening, and there is morning. And that is a day. And on it goes…

You came to take us.
All things go. All things go.
To recreate us.
All things grow. All things grow.

Last week, Stephan and the choir began a six-week series sharing music by American songwriter and composer Sufjan Stevens. We started exploring the Mystery of Love—the great Love—that is beyond perfect description. This great and holy Love seeks relationship with creation, with us. Over and over again. Despite our struggles and our shortcomings. Actually, perhaps especially because of our struggles and our shortcomings.

Sufjan—(and I’ve been listening to enough of his music these past few weeks to feel like I can call him by his first name)—has this beautiful approach to composing his songs where each instrument has a very simple musical phrase that repeats over and over again. Each phrase on its own isn’t really much.

But as you’re about to hear in a minute, layered together, these phrases form something truly beautiful. No one instrument can carry this song alone.

In this layered creation song, we are just one instrument, repeating our simple phrase alongside the rhythms of the sun and moon, the birds and the trees, the oceans and the stars. Each plays a part in the symphony of existence, none more important than the other.

The song of creation is ongoing. It didn’t stop on the seventh day. We are all participants in it—every breath, every step, every relationship we cultivate is part of this ongoing creation. We are always being made and remade. And sometimes…we make a lot of mistakes. Sometimes the making, the mistaking, the going, the growing, and the loving sounds chaotic, dissonant, as if everything is out of tune. But even then, the layers keep building, the song keeps moving, and, if we listen carefully enough, we can hear that everything still fits together.

So, what if, instead of dominion over creation, we—in an embodied way, not just an intellectual way—understood our role as something much more intimate? What if our task is to participate in creation, to listen for the rhythm, and to join in with our simple phrase? We are, after all, simple creatures. What if we, as a species, stopped trying to control the world, and instead sought to harmonize with it?

The stories we tell ourselves about creation, about God, and about ourselves shape how we live. If we see ourselves as disconnected from creation, we will live disconnected lives. But if we remember that we are all made of the same dust, all breathing the same breath of life that God gave Adam, then perhaps we will live in a way that honors the connection we share with all things.

All things go. All things grow. We are not separate from that.

And so…with Stephan’s patience (remember, I am definitely the weak link in this worship team), let’s listen to this song of creation, played out in real time…think of this as prep for your upcoming invitation to sing along with the choir.

We present…the Song of Creation, Sufjan style.

The Song of Creation

In the beginning, when all was formless and void, the Spirit of Life danced over the deep, and the pulse of Love moved through the darkness.

Then Love spoke and said, “Let there be light.”
And there was light—radiant, glowing, embracing.
Love saw that the light was good, and Love named the light Day,
And the darkness, Love named Night.
And there was evening, and there was morning, the first day.

Love spoke again, and said, “Let there be a vast sky between the waters,
Let the heavens stretch wide, a canopy of hope.”
And it was so.
Love called the sky Heaven.
And there was evening, and there was morning, the second day.

Love whispered to the waters, “Gather together,
And let dry ground appear, where life may flourish.”
The waters flowed, the earth emerged,
And Love called the dry land Earth,
And the gathered waters, Love named Seas.
And Love saw that it was good.

Then Love said, “Let the earth be filled with growing things,
Plants that bear seeds, trees heavy with fruit.”
And it was so.
The earth burst with life, green and vibrant,
And Love saw that it was good.
And there was evening, and there was morning, the third day.

Love gazed at the heavens and said, “Let there be lights to guide the way—
To mark the days, the seasons, and the years.
Let them shine upon the earth.”
And it was so.
Love made the sun to rule the day, the moon to brighten the night,
And the stars to twinkle in the dark like promises.
And Love saw that it was good.
And there was evening, and there was morning, the fourth day.

Then Love said, “Let the waters be filled with living beings,
And let the sky be filled with winged creatures, soaring free.”
The oceans teemed with life, creatures great and small,
And the skies sang with the beating of wings.
And Love saw that it was good.
And there was evening, and there was morning, the fifth day.

Love, filled with joy, spoke once more,
“Let the earth bring forth living creatures—
Animals of every kind, wild and domestic, crawling and leaping.”
And it was so.
The earth stirred with life—each creature unique,
And Love saw that it was good.

Then Love, in the fullness of all things, said,
“Let us create beings in our image, diverse and wondrous,
Each reflecting the heart and the Mystery of Love.
Let them care for the earth and all that is upon it—
The fish of the sea, the birds of the air, the creatures of the land.”
And so, Love created humankind in Love’s own image,
In the image of Love, Love created them,
Each one sacred, each one worthy, each one good.

Love blessed them and said, “Be fruitful and flourish,
Fill the earth and care for it.
Tend to the creatures and to