Let us pray:

O God, be present here and in all the places from which we are worshipping; move in us and through us that we too would be moved and changed. Speak to us, we pray, less of me, more of you; none of me, all of you. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing in Your sight, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.

This week, a new government website called Aliens.gov was launched. Despite the name, it isn’t about extraterrestrials. It’s an immigration enforcement website built around the language of aliens, complete with the slogan: “They walk among us.”

Now, regardless of where any of us land politically on immigration policy, I think it’s worth paying attention to those four words.

They walk among us.

Because those words are trying to tell a story. A story about who belongs and who doesn’t. A story about who should be trusted and who should be feared. A story that encourages us to see human beings as threats before we see them as neighbors.

And whether we’re talking about immigration, politics, economics, religion, or culture, fear often works through stories. Stories that tell us there isn’t enough. Stories that tell us we have to protect what is ours. Stories that tell us other people are dangers rather than gifts. Stories that tell us scarcity is the deepest truth about the world.

And if we’re honest, fear has become one of the dominant stories of our age.

But what if fear is not the first story? What if fear is not the deepest truth about the world? What if there is something before fear?

That’s the question behind this new series.

Over the next six weeks, we’re going to spend time in some of the foundational stories of Genesis. Stories about creation, Abraham and Sarah, Hagar and Ishmael, Isaac and Rebekah. Stories that shaped the identity of God’s people long before there was a king, a temple, or even a nation.

And what we’re going to discover is that before there is fear in Genesis, there is something else. Before there is shame, there is blessing. Before there is conflict, there is goodness. Before there is scarcity, there is abundance. 

Before there is fear, there is God.

And I think most of us need that reminder.

Because most of us learned fear long before we knew how to name it. We learned it in our families. We learned it in our schools. We learned it in our churches. We learned it from a culture that constantly tells us our worth is something to be earned.

I know I certainly did.

When I was growing up, report cards were a big deal. Not because my parents were unreasonable. They weren’t. They loved me deeply and sacrificed more than I understood at the time. But like many immigrant families, education mattered. A lot.

I can still remember bringing home report cards and looking them over one more time before handing them over. Feeling good about the A’s. Wondering whether that B+ was going to prompt a conversation. Calculating whether my successes would outweigh my shortcomings.

The funny thing is that nobody ever sat me down and said, “Your worth depends on your grades.”

But children are remarkably good at learning lessons nobody explicitly teaches.

Somewhere along the way, many of us begin to connect performance and belonging.

Maybe it was grades for you. Maybe it was sports. Maybe it was music. Maybe it was being the responsible one in your family. Maybe it was your career. Maybe it was being the good church member who always volunteered, always showed up, always did the right thing.

Whatever the source, many of us learned a similar lesson: approval follows achievement.

And after awhile, we begin carrying that lesson everywhere. Into our relationships. Into our work. Into our understanding of ourselves. Even into our faith.

We assume that value comes after accomplishment. That belonging comes after proving ourselves. That blessing comes after we’ve earned it.

And that is why Genesis surprises me every time I read it.

Because the Bible does not begin where many of us have been taught to begin the story.

It does not begin with sin. It does not begin with failure. It does not begin with humanity getting everything wrong.

It begins with God. It begins with wind sweeping over the waters. It begins with light breaking into darkness. It begins with creation unfolding.

And over and over again, like a drumbeat throughout the chapter, we hear the same refrain: God saw that it was good.

Good.

Good.

Good.

Very good.

Genesis wants us to hear that rhythm. Not once. Not twice. Again and again. Because human beings are remarkably quick to forget goodness.

Now, whenever Genesis 1 comes up, there is often a temptation to turn it into a debate about science. How did creation happen? How long did it take? Are these literal days?

And just as a note, I don’t believe Genesis is trying to teach science, and I don’t read this as a literal six-day account of creation. I believe science is one of the ways we come to understand God’s world, and I see no contradiction between faith and what we have learned about the age of the universe, evolution, and the unfolding story of life.

But those are not the primary questions this text is trying to answer.

Genesis is less interested in the mechanics of creation than it is in the meaning of creation. Genesis is telling us something about who God is, something about who we are, and something about the kind of world we inhabit.

And the reason that matters is because the stories we tell about the world eventually shape the way we live in it.

If the deepest truth about the world is scarcity, then fear makes sense. If the deepest truth about the world is competition, then suspicion makes sense. If the deepest truth about the world is that we are fundamentally alone, then hoarding makes sense.

But Genesis offers a different foundation.

Not fear. Not scarcity. Not competition… Goodness.

Which means generosity becomes possible. Trust becomes possible. Community becomes possible. Hope becomes possible.

In fact, one of the things Richard Rohr often reminds us is that original blessing comes before original sin. That’s not a denial of brokenness. It’s a reminder of sequence.

Because sequence matters.

If the first thing you believe about yourself is that you are broken, you will spend your life trying to earn what God already gave.

But if the first thing you believe about yourself is that you are beloved, then transformation becomes something very different. Not a desperate attempt to become worthy, but a response to grace.

I think that is exactly what Genesis is trying to teach.

Remember, this story emerged from a people trying to understand who they were. A people who had experienced displacement and uncertainty. A people surrounded by the stories of empire. A people asking questions like: Who are we? Does God still care about us? What kind of world are we living in?

And Genesis responds by telling a radically different story.

Empire says the world is built through violence. Genesis says the world begins with creativity. Empire says power belongs to the strongest. Genesis says every human being bears the image of God. Empire says there is never enough. Genesis says creation overflows with abundance. Empire says your value must be earned. Genesis says your value is spoken before you ever accomplish anything.

Church, we still live inside empire stories.

Not Babylon. Not Rome. But stories that constantly tell us we are not enough. Stories that tell us we must produce more, achieve more, acquire more, improve more, prove more. Stories that whisper fear into every corner of our lives.

Fear of failure. Fear of scarcity. Fear of irrelevance. Fear of being left behind. Fear of not measuring up.

And fear has a way of reshaping people. Fear narrows our vision. Fear makes us defensive. Fear convinces us there is not enough to go around. Not enough time. Not enough money. Not enough security. Not enough success. Not enough worth.

And when fear becomes our primary story, we begin organizing our lives around survival instead of trust.

But Genesis offers another story. A story that begins not with fear, but with blessing. Not with scarcity, but with abundance. Not with shame, but with delight. Not with anxiety, but with the God who calls creation good.

Think about how Genesis describes humanity. Human beings are created in the image of God. Not after passing a test. Not after proving themselves. Not after becoming useful. Not after demonstrating productivity. Simply because they exist.

And God looks at everything that has been made and says, “Very good.” Not adequate. Not acceptable. Not barely enough. Very good.

But Genesis doesn’t stop there. 

In fact, after declaring creation good, something remarkable happens. The story doesn’t move immediately to work. It moves to rest. God rests.

And that is strange if you think about it. God does not rest because God is exhausted. God rests because creation is complete enough to stop.

And that runs against almost everything our culture teaches us. Because the final act of creation is not productivity. It is Sabbath. It is rest. It is delight. It is enjoyment.

Get this: Humanity is created on the sixth day. Then comes the seventh day. Which means the first full day of human existence is not work. It’s rest.

The first full day humanity experiences is not earning. It’s receiving. The first full day humanity experiences is not proving themselves. It’s delighting in the presence of God.

Think about how different that is from the story many of us tell ourselves.

Many of us live as though our worth depends on what we produce. As though rest must be earned. As though we are only valuable when we are useful.

Genesis begins somewhere else. It begins with blessing.

You are blessed before you work. You are beloved before you produce. You belong before you achieve.

That is God’s first word. Everything else comes later. 

So here are your action items for the week:

First, pay attention to where fear is shaping your decisions.

Where are you operating from scarcity instead of trust? Where are you acting as though everything depends entirely on you?

Take a moment this week to notice the stories running beneath your choices. When you feel anxious, defensive, or pressured, ask yourself: What fear is speaking right now? And then ask a second question: What might this decision look like if I began from blessing instead?

Second, practice speaking blessing before criticism.

At home. At work. At church. Even in the way you speak to yourself. Practice beginning where God begins.

Before offering correction, offer encouragement. Before naming what is missing, name what is good. And pay particular attention to your inner voice. Many of us speak to ourselves in ways we would never speak to someone we love.

Third, spend time in creation without trying to accomplish anything.

Go for a walk. Sit outside. Listen to the birds. Watch the water. Notice the trees. Let creation remind you that existence itself is gift.

Don’t turn it into another task to complete or another item to check off your list. Simply receive it. Let the beauty, complexity, and goodness of creation remind you of the God who looked upon the world and called it good.

Church, the good news of Genesis is not that fear isn’t real. Fear is real. Scarcity is real. Heartbreak is real. And the world can be a difficult place. Genesis never asks us to pretend otherwise.

But Genesis insists that those things are not the deepest truth.

The deepest truth is that before fear, there is God. Before scarcity, there is abundance. Before shame, there is blessing. Before striving, there is rest.

And that’s the good news: You do not have to earn what God has already given. You do not have to prove what God has already declared. You do not have to achieve your way into belovedness.

Before you accomplished anything, before you succeeded or failed, before you got it right or got it wrong, God looked upon creation and called it good.

And that means God’s first word over your life is not fear. It is not scarcity. It is not failure. It is blessing.

Maybe that is what faith is ultimately about. Not convincing God to love us, but learning to trust the love that has been there all along. Not earning God’s blessing, but awakening to the blessing that has been there from the very beginning.

Because when we look back over our lives, we begin to see that God’s goodness was never absent. It was there before we noticed it. It was there before we understood it. It was there in moments of joy and moments of grief. It was there in moments of certainty and moments of doubt. It was there when we felt close to God and when we felt far away.

And perhaps that is why Genesis begins where it does… with a God who creates, blesses, delights, and calls creation good.

A God who has been present from the very beginning.

A God who has been faithful from the very beginning.

A God whose goodness has been with us from the very beginning.

And a God whose goodness is with us still.