“The First Covenant”

A Meditation on Genesis 9:8-17

     The feeling of dread began when a reporter from the Renville County Register called, wanting to write a story about a new pastor in town—me. The dread didn’t come from a bad experience with this reporter, Shelby, or the newspaper.  It came from my all years in journalism and being on the other “side.”

     I was the one who told all the stories! I wasn’t the one people wrote about!

     But I said, “Yes.”  It was an opportunity to share my faith and to speak about the church I love—my new family here at Ebenezer. I still felt anxious about the interview, which happened to fall the sleepy morning after a late session meeting.

     A few days after the interview, panic gripped me! I couldn’t remember what I had said to Shelby! I shared my fears with Sharon LeGare, suggesting that we do like an “I Love Lucy” episode.  I would be Lucy, trying to keep some crazy thing I had done secret from my husband, Ricky.  And she would be Ethel, the friend who always got dragged into Lucy’s schemes. We could wait in downtown Renville, I said, and buy up all the newspapers as soon as they arrived, before anyone in town could read the article.

     Sharon laughed. “But what about all the home delivery?” she pointed out. She wasn’t going to buy up all those, too!

     When it came down to it, I worried that Shelby wouldn’t understand my faith story. I was sure she would think I was a fanatic.

     The interview began with Shelby asking why I had become a pastor and why did I come here?  She looked down at her notepad, pencil raised, waiting for my answer.

      “God,” I said. She looked up, startled.  Then I went on to confess that there was a time during seminary when I didn’t want to be a pastor. My prayer was, “Please, Lord, no.”

      I told Shelby I was “very afraid.”  Because I knew that if God called me to do it, I would do it. If He decided to send me somewhere, I would go, in spite of my fear.

     My worries about the article that came out this week were for nothing. The headline under the photo of my dog Molly and me read, “Following God’s lead to Ebenezer.”  She had understood.

     I brushed off my silly anxieties as I read this week in Genesis about Noah’s situation.  Now he had reason to be worried. 

     Imagine a world where there is only one righteous man, only one who has found favor with God.  A world where no one listens for God’s voice or seeks to walk in His ways—no one except for Noah. God tells Noah to build an ark to rescue his family and as many of the living creatures of the land, sky, and sea that the ark could hold. The world of Noah’s time has become so evil that God’s “heart was saddened.” He regretted ever making these wicked people. So the Lord planned to send a great flood to destroy all living things not in Noah’s ark.

     Noah, trusting God, allows the Lord to lead Him. He builds the boat with God’s instructions.  Then he waits until God says it’s time to gather everyone and go inside. God does; and Noah obeys. Unlike Abraham, Moses, or me, Noah never complains or questions what God calls him to do.  Nowhere in Genesis does it say that Noah responded to God’s call with, “Please, Lord, no.”

     For 40 days and 40 nights, rain pours down and the fountains deep in the earth burst open. Floodwaters move across the earth and swallow the highest mountaintops. For 150 days, the ark drifts on water.  Months pass, and the water slowly recedes. God sends a wind to dry the land.

     I wonder, with the passage of all this time, did they run out of food?   Did they have enough clean water? Was there sickness? Death?  

     When the Lord finally gives the OK to leave the ark, miraculously, there are more animals than when they got on. Genesis says, “Every animal, creeping thing and bird, everything that stirs on the earth, came out of the ark” not 2 by 2, but “in families.” God cared for all the living creatures on that ark, as He had promised.

      Still, imagine the loneliness and emptiness of the changed world Noah encounters after the flood. Were piles of rubbish, broken trees, and scattered carcasses and bones of animals and people lying where water and wind had deposited them?

     This scene is the setting for God’s first covenant with humanity. Noah, right after he gratefully steps onto dry land, builds an altar to the Lord and offers a pleasing sacrifice. Then our God of mercy and grace—the same one who sent the flood to vanquish all wickedness—reaches out to reconcile with human beings, who could not save themselves. The Lord does this in response to his relationship with the one righteous man.

    This covenant is different than the one God makes with Abraham, when God promises him land and “seed”—offspring as numerous as the stars. His covenant with Abraham is specifically for him and his descendants, the Israelites, though blessings are promised for the world. The sign of Abraham’s covenant? Circumcision.

    The first covenant God makes, the one with Noah and his descendants, is a universal, everlasting promise for everyone and everything that lives on the earth.  The sign of this first covenant? A bow in the clouds—to remind the Lord of His everlasting promise never to destroy all living creatures again by flood.  It would also remind Noah of God’s providential care for him and his descendants.

      Unfortunately, this first universal covenant with God and all creatures was not enough to save the world from perishing. Wickedness continued. So God—many years after Noah, Abraham, and Moses lived—reached out, again, to reconcile human beings to Himself. Evil would, again, be vanquished—but not by taking human lives. 

     This time, God would graciously provide the sacrifice. His Own Son took our place and wiped our sins away. In Christ, the Lord fills us with righteousness and restores us to a loving relationship with Him. This new covenant, under which we now live, is sufficient.

      For all people. For all time.        

Let us pray.  Lord, thank you for your everlasting covenant with us through the life, death, and resurrection of your Son.  Forgive us our ingratitude, for fearing or avoiding what You call us to do and who You call us to be.  Give us strength to turn from our  selfishness and obey without complaint. Draw us nearer to You, into your light.  Thank you for Your faithfulness to us despite our unfaithfulness to You. In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.