Sermon: "Character Work", Genesis 22:1-14 (September 14, 2025)

This story from Genesis is a really disturbing one, particularly since the Narrative Lectionary has given it to us in the midst of an especially disturbing few weeks of violence in our country. The last thing that we want to encounter here in the safety and sanctity of worship is the story of a father willing to sacrifice his own son’s life without question. But here we are.

Most of us have been taught for decades that the point of this story is to show us what true faithfulness looks like, that this is the standard of trust in God we should all aspire to: we should be willing to sacrifice up to and including the lives of our own family - by our own hands - if God asks us to. But although this lesson is deeply ingrained in our theological understanding (indeed, it’s the only explanation some of us have ever heard for this story) many of us still struggle with it. We’re unable to reconcile this interpretation of Genesis 22 with the profound sense of unease that it provokes within us.

Liturgy: The Binding of Isaac, Genesis 22:1-14 (September 14, 2025)

 *You are welcome to use or adapt any of my resources for free, but I ask that you provide proper citation AND comment on this post to let me know.*

Hymns

Hymn GTG #67, “My Song Forever Shall Record”

Hymn GTG #49, “The God of Abraham Praise”

Hymn GTG #60, “Your Endless Love, Your Mighty Act”

Sermon: "Use Your Words", Genesis 1:1 – 2:4a (September 7, 2025)

Those of you who’ve met my dog, Maya, on the occasions that I’ve brought her into work with me know that she can be a little…vocal. Her three natural states are chilling out on the couch (which is my preference), whining like she’s being criminally neglected, and barking to wake the dead. We’ve tried to teach her the “quiet” command; we’ve tried to respond to her softly and with calm energy; we’ve tried ignoring her until it stops - it just never does. Nothing works.

Liturgy: Creation by the Word, Genesis 1:1 -- 2:4a (September 7, 2025)

*You are welcome to use or adapt any of my resources for free, but I ask that you provide proper citation AND comment on this post to let me know.*

Hymns

Hymn GTG #18, “Hallelujah! Sing Praise to Your Creator”

Hymn GTG #24, “God, Who Stretched the Spangled Heavens”

Sermon: “Tamar’s Gift”, Genesis 38:6-7, 11-20, 24-26 (December 1, 2024 - Advent 1)

It’s Advent-tide once more, my friends, and once again we’ll be spending the next four weeks preparing our hearts to receive the coming Messiah. But while many churches use this time to recall the events immediately preceding Jesus’ birth, it’s important for us to remember that Jesus’ story doesn’t begin in the gospels. In fact, the impact of the incarnation is severely diminished without understanding everything that came before it. So while we’ll definitely still spend Christmas Eve with the beloved stories of the angels, the shepherds, the manger, and the magi, these next four weeks will be devoted to things that came long before all that.

Liturgy: Advent I, Genesis 38:6-26 (December 1, 2024)

This liturgy is based on our Advent Theme this year, "The Gifts of Women", based on the women in Matthew's account of Jesus' genealogy.

          *You are welcome to use or adapt any of my resources for free, but I ask that you provide proper citation AND comment on this post to let me know.*

Hymns

Hymn GTG #88, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” [vv. 1, 4, 7]

Hymn GTG #324, “For All the Faithful Women" [v. 1 + New Verse:]

We thank you, Lord, for Tamar, a woman tossed aside,

Demanding to be noticed, confronting Judah’s pride.

When called out as a sinner, she turned the tables ‘round,

Her steadfast perseverance a path to Christ’s renown.

Hymn GTG #105 “People Look East”

Sermon: “As It Was in the Beginning…", Ezekiel 7:1-12 (& Genesis 2:4-14/Revelation 22:1-5) (June 30, 2024)

Although we don’t usually use them in our liturgy here at Boone, these words that we just sang, first in the Jam Session and then again just now, are one of the oldest prayers in the Christian Church, dating back to at least the 4th century CE. It’s usually called the Gloria Patri (which is Latin for “Glory to the Father”). How many of you have heard it before today? When I was growing up, we sang these words every week in worship, over and over again until they became permanently imprinted on my subconscious. But for some reason, I don’t recall singing it at all in the years since. In fact, I kind of think I forgot all about it. The only reason it resurfaced in my memory at all is because of this passage from Ezekiel.

Sermon: “Behind the Laughter”, Genesis 18:1-2, 8-15 (September 17, 2023)

I have to confess that I’ve abbreviated today’s reading quite a bit from the original text given by the Narrative Lectionary. The full reading includes verses 3-7, plus Isaac’s birth in chapter 21. It wants us to focus on Abraham’s hospitality and to tie up the story with a nice big bow: the impossible promise being fulfilled. But framing the story in this way is unfair to Sarah. So much of Sarah’s story is overshadowed by her husband and HIS relationship with the Lord. Although she’s as much a part of God’s covenant as he is, she remains relegated mostly to the background, silent and alone, for much of the story. I’m tired of her experience being rendered invisible, and so – at least for today – Sarah will be at the center of this story.

Sermon: “Rewriting Creation”, Genesis 2.4-9, 15-24 (September 10, 2023)

We’ve been bopping around the Bible throughout summer months, with adventures in Isaiah, 2 Peter, the Wisdom Literature, and Deuteronomy, but today, we’re jumping back into year two of the Narrative Lectionary. The point of this lectionary, as you may recall, is to read through Scripture more like a story, which means we’re headed back to the beginning. Back to the origins of God’s people in Genesis.

But not quite the VERY beginning. You’ll notice we’re not starting this year with the FIRST chapter of Genesis. This isn’t for any sort of nefarious reason; we’ll get the chance to read Genesis 1 in year 4 of the lectionary cycle. But this is a good opportunity for us to remember that, while the Narrative Lectionary does its best to present Scripture as a single, integrated account, that’s not, in fact, what the Bible actually is – ESPECIALLY in Genesis, and that goes double for the first 10 chapters or so of the book. The Bible is an anthology of texts from countless authors spanning thousands of years of history, many of which existed as oral traditions for centuries even before that.

Right off the bat, we have two separate accounts of creation that conflict with one another. In chapter 1, all human beings are created at the same time and after everything else, while in chapter 2, they’re created individually and before any other living thing. The first story is written as poetry while the second is written as narrative prose. The first exclusively calls God “Elohim”, while the second prefers to emphasize the Lord’s proper name, “YHWH”. In the first, God does all the talking, while in the second, humanity gets chatty. These are clearly two very different accounts of creation that developed independently before finally winding up as neighbors in Genesis.

All this is to say that it’s okay for us to struggle with scripture, because scripture often struggles with itself. Which is, frankly, a good thing because I really struggle with this second creation account, personally. This passage has historically been used to justify horrific misogyny and homophobia, claiming these attitudes to be ordained by God – and as you might imagine, I’m not cool with that. But unfortunately, the text itself, taken at face value, doesn’t do much to disabuse people of this conclusion. It’s a tough one to tackle with all the historical baggage it comes with.

But as I was begrudgingly reading through the text this week, it stirred within me a memory that felt almost as ancient as the stories found in Genesis, buried deep in the recesses of my brain. The way the passage concludes, by explaining, “This is why a man leaves his father and mother and embraces his wife,” reminded me of a long-forgotten unit on African folklore from all the way back in elementary school. I remember funny stories about Anansi, the trickster spider, and an assortment of other anthropomorphic animals. Many of these tales were obviously meant to teach morals, but the ones I enjoyed the most were the ones that provided a creative explanation about some small aspect of how the world works. Stories like, “Why the dog barks”, “Why the antelope lives in the bush”, and “Why mosquitoes buzz in people’s ears.”

Whether or not this particular type of story is meant to be taken as fact (which isn’t for me to say) they’re generally more observational than judgmental in nature. Some of the characters in these tales might make questionable choices, but the stories themselves never make any assertions about morality – they don’t say, “This is the way things SHOULD be,” just, “This is how things ARE.” Their only objective is to offer some context for the kinds of things that everyone knows to be true, but nobody necessarily has an answer as to why.

Lest we carelessly label such stories “primitive” or “fanciful”, I should note that this sort of folklore isn’t exclusive to African cultures. Many different peoples, from the ancient Greeks to Native Americans all across North America, have similar stories. Judeo-Christian cultures have their share, too. There’s a legend about why dogs’ noses are wet and cold (because a quick-thinking dog saved Noah’s ark by using its nose to plug a hole in the side), and in fact, there’s a well-respected genre of scriptural interpretation, called “Midrash”, that, in the words of Rev. Dr. Vanessa Lovelace, “not only engages the words of the text, behind the text, and beyond the text, but also focuses on…the words left unsaid by each line.”[1] Midrash steps in to help answer questions that scripture itself doesn’t directly address.

If these sorts of stories can be found across human cultures AND religions – including our own – then wouldn’t it be reasonable to assume, given all the different types of literature found in the Bible, that scripture itself could contain examples of this genre, too? Once this thought occurred to me, it completely changed my approach to this text. Genesis 2 has troubling implications when read as the PARADIGM for human relationships, but what if it’s read as an EXPLANATION for why human relationships seem to follow this pattern? What we find in chapter 2 doesn’t necessarily sound to me like something that God would want for us…but it sure does sound like the sort of situation that humanity would create for itself.

God wants “the human” (whom we traditionally call Adam) to be happy, so God decides to create wild animals and birds from the soil to keep him company. We know that everything God creates is good, so any of these creatures would have been a perfectly fine companion for the human. But this story is NOT about what God wants at all, but about what ADAM wants, and Adam isn’t satisfied with any of these beings that are made from the same stuff that he is. Only once God presents Adam with a creature made from HIS flesh, HIS essence, is Adam satisfied – and he says as much.

Think about that. GOD isn’t the one who declares “the woman” (or Eve) to be the perfect companion; ADAM is. And to him, her perfection isn’t because of her personality or her intelligence or even just the fact that she can have a conversation with him; he declares her “the one” because she’s reliant on him for her being. Given the choice, Adam decided that he couldn’t be happy unless his companion was an extension of himself. And this is why, the story concludes, people leave their families to enter into co-dependent relationships with one another (you know, in not so many words).

God gives us free will in choosing and forming our relationships – romantic and otherwise. And too often, we settle for unbalanced relationships with people who either fawn over us or lord over us. Regardless of the genders or specific relationships involved, these are unhealthy patterns of behavior. Have you ever had a friend who somehow always makes you feel “not good enough”? Or an employee whose constant praise comes across as disingenuous? Or a family member who won’t let you forget that they’re more educated than you? Or a neighbor who’s always trying to “keep up with the Joneses” – the Joneses being you? Or – be honest – have YOU ever been any of these people? These sorts of relationships are toxic and unhealthy, and yet – as this story observes – it seems to be a common way that humans relate.

But the story also hints that this isn’t what God wants for us. Just before discovering exactly how ego-driven human beings can be, God says, “I will make [the person] him A HELPER that is perfect for him.” The Hebrew word translated as “helper” here is the same word used to describe GOD throughout many of the psalms: “Trust in the Lord! He is your helper and your shield!” Although the English word “helper” tends to have the connotation of “assistant” or “apprentice”, that’s certainly not what the psalmist meant! In contrast, this Hebrew word means something closer to “one who provides succor” or even “deliverer.” So God didn’t want to give Adam a pet or a servant, but someone who could provide strength and aid – a true partner. Eve may have been the companion that Adam WANTED (and vice versa, for that matter), but not the one that God wanted for HIM. God wants all of our relationships to be with people who can bring out the best in us, and us in them.

Now, spoiler alert, but things don’t end up going well for Adam and Eve. They mess up, blame each other, and are subsequently exiled from paradise. And yet we want to emulate this relationship? That doesn’t seem like the best choice. Think about what’s lost when we assume that this story is about “the way things should be”. We lose our chance to live in paradise. We lose the opportunity for a partner who supports us and inspires us to be a better version of ourselves. We lose out on relationships that are life-giving and kindom-building. When we understand this story as “the way things should be,” then there’s no reason for us to change, and we remain lost to our sin.

But when we understand this story instead as more of a folktale, explaining rather than instructing, we can find a new way forward. Rather than following the poor example of this first Adam, we can instead look to the one that many theologians (including the Apostle Paul) call “the NEW Adam”: Jesus Christ. In his resurrection, Christ rewrites this second story of creation, destroying the power that sin has held over us from our beginning – not just the sin of disobedience, but the sin of choosing to be in wrong relationship with one another. Christ rewrites “the way things are” and offers us the chance to live “the way things ACTUALLY should be”.

 

In freeing us from the inevitability of our relational sin, Jesus has handed us a pen. We get to rewrite creation alongside God. We get to cultivate, practice, and pursue holy relationships with one another. We get to work our way back to an Edenic existence, not as creatures who care only about ourselves, but this time as true partners. We get to call out those who idolize toxic patterns of relationship, especially within the Church, so that no one has to feel “less than” ever again. We get to learn the right lessons from this story – whether we believe it to be factual or more ambiguously “true” – and determine to do better.

Ancient ways of thinking are hard to change, just as ancient stories are hard to tell differently. But all things are possible with God, and God isn’t done writing yet. The end of our story is yet to be, and we get to have a hand in telling it. What do you imagine it will ultimately look like, this rewritten creation, this new beginning? Scripture has already told us: it will look like paradise. So let’s start rewriting. Amen.

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[1] Lovelace, Vanessa (September 11, 2018). "Womanist Midrash: A Reintroduction to the Women of the Torah and the Throne, written by Wilda C. Gafney". Horizons in Biblical Theology. Volume 40 (Issue 2): pages 212–215.

Liturgy: God Creates Humans - Genesis 2:4-9, 15-24 (September 10, 2023)

*You are welcome to use or adapt any of my resources for free, but I ask that you provide proper citation AND comment on this post to let me know.*

*Call to Worship (based on Genesis 2:7)

Leader: Scripture tells us that the Lord God formed the first human from the earth’s soil and from heaven’s breath.
People: We are creatures of flesh and of spirit, of now and of eternity.
Leader: We belong both to this world and the world to come.
People: We are called by God to honor both parts of our being.
Leader: Let us worship the one who gave us breath!
People: Let us worship the Lord!

Liturgy: The Call of Abraham - Genesis 12:1-9 (September 18, 2022)

*You are welcome to use or adapt any of my resources for free, but I ask that you provide proper citation AND comment on this post to let me know.*

Call to Worship

Leader: God called Abram to leave behind his land, family, and home.
People: Where God calls, we will follow.

Leader: The Lord’s Word is good; the Lord’s promises are true.
People: Where God calls, we will follow.
Leader: The Lord be with you!
People: [Respond with indicated gesture:] And also with you!
Leader: Let us worship the Lord.

Sermon: "Father of Hope", Genesis 12:1-9 (September 18, 2022)

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Most of you probably didn’t realize it, but last week, we made a shift in worship from using the Revised Common Lectionary to using the Narrative Lectionary. The Revised Common Lectionary, which has guided my preaching for most of the time I’ve been your pastor, is a three-year cycle of scripture readings based around the liturgical year (beginning with Advent). Its purpose is to ensure a more or less comprehensive survey of the Bible and to prevent repetitive preaching. The Narrative Lectionary, on the other hand, approaches scripture differently. It selects and orders biblical passages in such a way that it presents a cohesive narrative of God’s people. Over the course of each year in a four-year cycle (one for each of the gospels), the Narrative Lectionary moves from Genesis to the patriarchs and matriarchs of our faith, through the Kingdom of Israel and the prophets, through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, all the way to the history of the early Church, as if telling a single, continuous story.

Sermon: “Make Another Choice”, Genesis 4:3-16/Matthew 5:21-24 (August 28, 2022)

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I don’t know why I recall this so vividly, but when I was in first or second grade, I remember a poster that my teacher had hung front and center in the classroom. It read, “Make another choice,” and on the first day of class, we were told that if we disrupted the lesson or treated another student disrespectfully or anything like that, the teacher would point to the sign, and we’d have an opportunity to change our behavior. If we continued to misbehave after this warning, then there would be consequences. I’m not sure that my six- or seven-year-old self was able to fully grasp the lesson in personal responsibility that this sign represented, but I remember thinking how cool it was that we wouldn’t get in trouble right away. Instead, we’d get the chance to – well – make another choice.

Sermon: “The Voices That Matter”, Genesis 11:1-9/Acts 2:1-8, 12 (June 5, 2022)

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Ever since the first time I realized the parallels between the stories of Babel and Pentecost, I’ve struggled to make sense out of it. In Genesis, it kind of seems like God’s just creating trouble where there isn’t any. After all, the Holy Spirit would never have had to do that translation trick at Pentecost if God had just let the people keep their unified language in the first place. Things seemed to be working just fine; the people were on track to build the first skyscraper millennia ahead of schedule and, more importantly, they all seemed to be getting along and cooperating. It’s difficult to imagine why God would want to put a stop to any of that, especially in light of God’s contradictory actions at Pentecost.

Sermon: “Let Us Build a House: Laying the Foundation”, Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16/Luke 1:57-66 (December 5, 2021)

(This is the second sermon in our Advent and Christmas series, "Let Us Build a House", based on the Advent theme from A Sanctified Art. The first can be found here.)

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More than 400 years ago, Shakespeare put pen to paper and asked, “What’s in a name?” His character, Juliet Capulet, was trying to convince herself that names really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things…but unfortunately, she didn’t actually have much support for her hypothesis. Not only did her family hold a dramatically different opinion on the matter, but pretty much everyone else in the world would disagree with her, too. Across time and cultures, names have always been central to human identity, and we’ve always put great care into choosing them. Even surnames, which had been passed along according to the same archaic customs for centuries, have recently been subject to more careful discernment than ever before. Because, contrary to what Juliet would have us believe, the fact is that our names DO matter.

Sermon: "Let Us Build a House: Homesick", Genesis 12:1-9/Luke 21:25-36 (November 28, 2021--Advent I)

(This is the first sermon in our Advent and Christmas series, "Let Us Build a House", based on the Advent theme from A Sanctified Art.)

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Think about the last time you moved. The searching, the haggling, the financing, the packing, the scheduling, the physical and emotional energy expended, and after all that, the unpacking and updating documents and settling in. All that work is multiplied tenfold if you’re building a house from the ground up. And if you’re moving across the country? Forget about it. No matter the circumstances, I think we can all agree that moving house is a monumental task.

And yet, we still do it. People move from one place to another all the time. These days, it’s rare for anyone to live their entire lives in the same house that they grew up in; in fact, the average USAmerican moves more than 11 times over the course of their life.[1] People move in good times and in hard times—many even moved during the worst parts of the pandemic last year. Even though finding a new place to live can literally be a full-time job, even though fitting everything you own into boxes can feel impossible, even though leaving an old home behind can be painful, moving is still a near-universal human experience.

Sermon: “God’s Co-Op”, Genesis 2:4-9a, 15, 18-22/Mark 4:26-32 (June 13, 2021)

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God’s kingdom has been compared to a lot of things. According to Jesus, the Kingdom of God is like a treasure hidden in a field, a pearl of great price, yeast, a fishing net, a landowner hiring day laborers, a wedding banquet, servants entrusted with talents, and so on and so on. All revealing something important about God’s kingdom, and yet all (to our modern ears, anyway) rather enigmatic. (What actually *is* a talent, anyway?) If even the disciples struggled to extract meaning from these parables in their context, what hope do we have today?

Sermon: “Make a Joyful Noise: Great Is Thy Faithfulness” (“Get Off the Fence”), Genesis 37:17b-30 (August 9, 2020)

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I want to begin today’s sermon with a story. There once was a little girl named Ruby. Ruby loved cookies. I mean LOVED them. Like, Cookie Monster had nothing on her. Her mother couldn't even keep cookies in the house, because as soon as Ruby discovered them, they were as good as gone. She seemed to have the metabolism of a teenage boy; otherwise, there was no way to explain how so many cookies could fit into such a tiny body.

Sermon: “Make a Joyful Noise: Take My Life”, Genesis 28:10-19 (July 19, 2020)

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Sometimes, you make plans. Sometimes, they’re great plans: they’re carefully thought-out and designed to make the world a better place. Other times, your plans are less than noble: they involve putting yourself first or running away from your responsibilities. Either way, God often has plans that are quite different than yours: as the saying goes, we plan, and God laughs.

Sermon: “Sensing the Sacred: Taste the Divine”, Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7/Matthew 4:1-11 (March 1, 2020)

(This is the second sermon in our Lenten series, "Sensing the Sacred". 

The first sermon can be found here.)

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Food is DANGEROUS. Or at least, we tend to think of food as dangerous. How many of you have ever described yourself as “bad” for taking a second helping at dinner? How many of you have ever described dessert as “a temptation”? If you’re giving something up for Lent, how many of you have chosen to forgo some sort of food item? Our relationship with food isn’t all lighthearted self-deprivation, either: over 30 million Americans struggle with disordered eating;[1] for these people, any event involving food is a minefield of emotional, physical, and psychological danger. What’s more, about 32 million Americans have allergies to food, with 200,000 people being hospitalized for them in the U.S. every year.[2] For these people, the prospect of eating food at any given time can literally be a matter of life and death. Suffice it to say, even though food is the necessary fuel to sustain human life, many of us have a complicated relationship with it, for all sorts of reasons.