August 2, 2026 - Images of God: The Creator

Wild and waste.

An inhabited wasteland.

According to some scholars, these words are a closer match to the Hebrew that starts Genesis than the ones we are used to.

That feels more like the beginning of a futuristic sci-fi movie than the way we usually imagine Genesis 1.

Darkness.

Deep waters.

The earth is wild, unformed, waiting.

Its a bit like a closet cleanout. You work for 3 hours and it looks worse than when you started - because now all the stuff has taken over the bedroom. It feels like Genesis 1 is dropping us into the story at this point - there is a lot of stuff but it needs some organization before new stuff also comes.

God as Creator is less like a factory manager and more like an artist, a gardener, or a musician. God takes time with each step—creating, pausing, declaring it good, and then taking the next creative step.

Notice how the Creator makes everything to work together.

That working together show us that Even Creator God is about relationship.

There are relationships between land and sea, sky and earth, plants and animals, creatures of the sea and creatures of the land, and finally humans. Creation is not simply a collection of individual parts; it is a web of relationships, each depending on the others for life to flourish.

Indigenous peoples remind us what this kind of relationship can look like.

The Potawatomi people describe rocks, rivers, trees, fire, weather—even places—as animate, alive, and worthy of respect rather than simply objects to be used. Even stones are not considered an "it," because they are understood to be living members of creation. Relationships extend beyond human beings to the whole created universe. We are one family, committed to caring for one another. As we care for the rivers, the rivers care for us. As we care for the earth, the earth nourishes us.

The earth is not simply property.

It is relationship.

If something is merely an object, you ask, "What can I get from it?"

But if something is a relative, you ask, "How do I hold it with care?"

The Creating One fashioned a web of relationships among creatures, plants, minerals, water, sky, and people—things that may not seem to have much in common, and yet each depends on the others.

Honestly, I think that's a pretty good picture of the church, too.

We don't always have a lot in common, and yet we are called to care for one another.

But...that's another sermon.

Our God is the Creator of worlds and the Creator of relationships.

I think a growing movement called Wild Church helps to hold these together..

Wild Church communities gather outdoors—not because church buildings are bad—but because they believe creation has become one of the church's forgotten sanctuaries.

They do all the church things. They pray. They read Scripture. They worship. They reflect.

Not simply to God in nature.

But with creation in the presence of God.

The movement describes itself as reconnecting with "the living world as kin," learning to hear sermons whispered by wind, trees, birds, and watersheds.

Princeton Theological Seminary has another experiment that captures this same imagination. They call it The Farminary.

Instead of believing every lesson about God happens inside a classroom, they ask future pastors to spend time on a twenty-one-acre farm. Students learn to plant, weed, harvest, compost, and wait.

The conviction behind the project is beautiful: the character needed for Christian leadership is formed in relationship with God's good creation. They learn the patience of tending seeds, the persistence to work through slow seasons, the joy of abundant harvests, and the reverence to hold both life and death with wonder.

I love that image.

Because you can't rush a tomato.

You can't demand that spring arrive in January.

And every gardener I know lives in an ongoing relationship with what they are growing. They research why a vegetable isn't thriving. They celebrate the surprise watermelon that volunteered in the garden this year. They faithfully tend their plants day after day, trusting that growth often happens slowly and quietly. Then they send pictures of their veggie babies to friends.

That kind of relationship with creation changes us.

One of the tragedies of Western Christianity is that we have often imagined ourselves standing over creation.

Certainly, human beings are given responsibility. But responsibility is never permission for domination. It is an invitation into relationship.

Genesis shows God creating spaces where life can flourish before placing creatures within them.

Creators cultivate.

They do not dominate.

The Creator makes room for life to take root.

As I have imagined what God wants for the world, I keep coming back to this creative, relational vision. In that light, one detail especially caught my attention, this time around.

The Hebrew writer follows a familiar rhythm.

"And God said..."

"And it was so..."

"And God saw that it was good."

The pattern is intentional.

Then suddenly...

The pattern stops.

The writer wants us to notice something.

The seventh day.

God rests.

God blesses the seventh day.

God makes it holy.

And unlike every other day, there is no ending.

There is no,

"And there was evening, and there was morning."

The seventh day simply continues.

Creator God wasn't just tired, wanting to sit on the rocking chair in the clouds.

Sabbath is the goal.

What if God's greatest act of creativity wasn't simply making a world, but creating a world with balance—a world that ultimately rests in God's presence and care?

What a different way to imagine life.

Think about it.

The first full day humanity experiences isn't work.

It is Sabbath.

The first day is not a to-do list.

It is delight.

Before accomplishing anything...

Before proving anything...

God invites humanity into relationship with rest.

Our Creator dreams of a world where every creature has enough to rest.

Enough food.

Enough shelter.

Enough safety.

Enough relationships.

Enough care.

Enough rest.

Maybe that's why movements like Wild Church resonate.

Because we are tired of being human doings instead of human beings..

Tired of rushing. Tired of screens.

Tired of calendars that measure our worth

Wild Church reminds us of the rest God created us for.

Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is sit beneath a tree.

Watch geese cross the sky.

Listen to cicadas.

Feel the wind.

So I wonder if this week we might become students of our Creator God.

Could we take a walk?

Sit quietly on a bench?

Take a deep breath and notice the scent of the trees and the flowers?

Could we become curious once again?

And ask ourselves:

How can I rest?

How can I see creation the way God sees it?

Can I look upon this world and, without hesitation, say, "It is good"?