“In Hope, God Creates”
Creation Sunday
September 26, 2021
Psalm 8
Romans 8:18-27
For the past few years, we’ve been doing a whole creation series in the month of September—leading up to the festival of St. Francis in early October. We’ve focused on trees and oceans and flowers and animals. I’ve preached sermons on how poorly we have fulfilled our call as stewards of creation. I’ve talked about the true meaning of passages that say humanity has been given dominion—how we have abused, misused, and destroyed so much of God’s good and plentiful gift because of our greed, our desire for convenience, our insistence upon immediate gratification.
You’ve heard it all, and I doubt you want to hear it again any more than I want to say it. We have it in our face constantly these days—with July being the hottest on record, hurricanes, wildfires, and tornadoes reaching catastrophic levels. Just because we don’t feel the immediate affects right here doesn’t mean that it’s not coming.
I’ve preached on all the things we need to do—decrease single-use plastic, reduce consumption, recycle, compost, use less gas. We all know these things. It’s much more difficult to do them. Those that live in rural communities have less access to recycling and are completely reliant upon vehicles to get around. Farm equipment has to be used or we won’t have food. We have created such a system in which there seems to be no way around the destruction we have come to depend upon. And it all feels quite hopeless if we dwell on it too much.
It is not unlike this seemingly endless pandemic. There are some who are doing everything they can to put an end to it, and there are some who refuse to take it seriously. And so it continues, despite all efforts to the contrary, destroying so many in its path. And if we lose hope that there is truly life on the other side, then all is lost.
Perhaps that is what asylum-seekers from Haiti are feeling as they are forced to return to the rubble of their homes. Perhaps that is what citizens of Afghanistan are feeling as their last chance for freedom has left their country. Perhaps that is what so many families and individuals are feeling as they struggle to make ends meet, struggle against abuse, struggle against diagnoses like cancer. There is so much pain in this world, to the point where many of us wonder if there’s anything left.
Now that you’re all sufficiently depressed, that’s not my intent at all. As someone who is challenged by depression and anxiety, these kinds of thoughts can worm their way into my mind and camp out there. That kind of hopeless is neither helpful nor true. All is not lost, and hope is alive.
Paul writes that creation waits with eager longing—longing for the children of God to be revealed. Creation has been groaning in labor pains, anticipating the freedom of salvation. Two things are abundantly clear in this. First, labor pains mean life is on its way. Hope is what makes the pain endurable. Second, salvation isn’t just for individual people but for all of creation. This is good news! The struggle isn’t the last word but the process through which we see God’s abundant and beautiful gift of grace.
I’ve often turned to Dr. Seuss’ “The Lorax” when discussing the plight of creation. Today, I want to lift up a different Seuss book—“Horton Hatches an Egg.” It begins with Mayzie, “a lazy bird hatching an egg.” She’s bored with her task and wants, instead, to be out and about. She want to fly and play and be free from responsibility. When she sees Horton the elephant, she knows he is trustworthy and true. She asks him to mind her egg—just for a bit. She promises to hurry back.
But Mayzie doesn’t come back—not in a few hours or a few days or even a few weeks. And Horton does his best to care for this egg. It becomes his sole focus. He is devoted to it—through storms and the snow, despite being laughed at and hunted and even gawked at by circus-goers. As Mayzie happens upon the circus where Horton has been taken, she recognizes him and has the gall to accuse him of stealing HER egg—now that the work was complete, of course.
But just then it hatches. And wouldn’t you know…the little hatchling looks an awful lot like the one who had given his life for it. Complete with a trunk and big ears and a tail, too.
Horton didn’t expect such a remarkable outcome. He only hoped for life at the end. And he knew he was responsible for it. Hope and responsibility go hand in hand. If we hope for something, we don’t simply wait for someone else to make it happen. If we hope for it, we are also inspired to work toward it. Like expecting parents, who purchase a crib and take birthing classes and do their best to keep themselves and their little one healthy. Like Horton, who withstood weather and humiliation for the sake of someone else’s egg. Like us, who do what is in our power to care, not just for ourselves, but for one another. Though sometimes (often) it is inconvenient, challenging, or even unpopular.
We don’t just wait for someone else to fix it. We don’t wait for God to come rescue us from our mess. We don’t wait for some hopeless and bitter end to the pain. And we don’t wait for some optimistic, magical reversal to the damage we’ve done. We don’t destroy our present and wait for some future in heaven. The kingdom of heaven is near. It is here. And we have been called to care for it. But not out of some works-righteousness ploy. We aren’t asked to make everything perfect so that we get to go to heaven. We’re asked to do our best so that we see glimpses of heaven now and sow the seeds of hope for what is to come.
And so, we wait in hope. Hope means that we confess the ways in which we have gotten it wrong. It means that we work towards something better. And it means that, though there are no guarantees for the outcome, we do not lose heart. We do not forget God’s love for us—ALL of us. God’s promise to us—ALL of us—that death and destruction, war and greed, pandemics and disease do not have the last word. They do not determine our lives, our love, or our hope.
One of my favorite Scripture passages is 2 Corinthians 4:1—“Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart.” It is by God’s mercy that you and I are placed in this amazing creation. It is by God’s grace that we have been given this responsibility. It is by God’s wisdom that we have this opportunity to do something good with the gifts God has given us. It is by God’s love that we lean on each other when the going gets rough and the outcome looks dim. And it is in hope that we continue the good work before us. It is in hope that we do not lose heart. It is in hope that, through the difficulties, that which comes forth from our work will resemble the one who truly gave it life.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
