God’s “Never Again”

Genesis 9:8-17

How many times have you said, “Boy, I’ll never do that again!”? Most of us would probably answer something to the effect of, “It’s been more times that we can probably count.” Regret is common to us all.

What is your most recent regret? Maybe you spoke harshly when you were overtired? Perhaps you’ve done something you knew was wrong, but at the moment you just couldn’t resist? Maybe your regret is not so much something you did do, but what you failed to do? Did you forget a birthday? Did you not stand up for someone being unfairly ridiculed?

This past Wednesday was the beginning of the Lenten season. Ash Wednesday marks a forty-six day period between Ash Wednesday and the Saturday before Easter. It’s intended to be a time of abstinence, prayer, and works of charity. But Lent also reminds us of Christ’s journey to the cross. It won’t be long and we’ll remember again the excruciating pain and suffering Jesus endured for us. And if, by chance, we’re deeply affected by this sacrifice, we might be overcome by regret. Perhaps we may deeply regret our sin. We might be overcome with how we take for granted the sacrifice made for us? Maybe we’ll regret how lackadaisical we sometimes are in our faith?

Sometimes on Saturday nights, as I’ve finished my preparation for the next day’s sermon, I try to relax and focus myself spiritually for the day ahead. And to center in on the most important hour of my week – this hour of worship – I am drawn intimately close to God by watching COPS on the Fox network. You know the show don’t you? It’s when they take a video camera and follow real police officers in their line of work.

A recent episode was entitled, Mardi Gras COPS. The show documented all the celebrating in the French Quarter in New Orleans. There were fights, pick-pockets, drunks, and flashers. And that’s just the stuff they caught on tape! Watching what goes on there should make us all feel better! How many of those people woke up with regret the next morning after their celebrating? We can all hope quite a few – but it’s certain at least the ones in jail woke up with regret – regret for what they’d done or maybe that they got caught.

Do you think God regrets? Does God ever say, “Man, I wish I hadn’t done that!”? Does God ever want to take a mulligan – a do over?

Our story today from Genesis 9 is about the covenant God established with Noah. It’s now after the flood. Everyone who wasn’t on the ark has drowned in the forty days and nights of water. And now that the deluge has ended, God comes to the conclusion that never again will this kind of destruction happen to humanity and creation. Is this a moment of regret for God? Is God saying, “Oops!” or is God grieving a necessary judgment on humanity and creation?

No matter how one interprets this passage, this has not been one of God’s better days. At each step in the creative process, there’s a statement of affirmation where God saw that what was created was good.[1] And once humanity was added to the mix, the Genesis account of creation tells us that God saw that things were very good.[2] But by Genesis 6, the goodness of creation has eroded. Sinful humanity had overtaken a good creation and diseased it. In Genesis 6:6 it says, “And the Lord was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart.” And we know what happens next. A flood ensued and all but Noah and those animals who were on the ark perished. And then we have this covenant in Genesis 9. In it, three times God says, “...never again...” will this kind of thing happen.

One of the interesting things about this covenant is how one-sided it is. There is nothing in this covenant that Noah is supposed to do. Noah doesn’t say, “Here’s what I’d like to see in our agreement God.” It’s all God. Noah doesn’t have to offer sacrifices or build an altar. He doesn’t have to set up a national holiday where everyone gets off work, the schools are shut down, and we all go to the mall. This covenant is all about a change in the heart of God. God says, “Never again will humanity be judged in this way.”

Walter Brueggemann, a biblical scholar from Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur Georgia, writes in his Genesis commentary, “Can God change his mind? Can he abandon the world he has so joyously created? That is a central question for Israel. Many people hold to a view of God as unchanging and indifferent to anything going on in the world, as though God were a plastic, fixed entity. But Israel’s God is fully a person who hurts and celebrates, responds and acts in remarkable freedom. God is not captive of old resolves. God is as fresh and new in relation to creation as he calls us to be with him. He can change his mind, so that he can abandon what he has made; and he can rescue that which he has condemned.”[3] So in this story, God turns to humanity in a new way.

In this covenant with Noah, there is a sign – a rainbow. The rainbow is symbolic of God’s commitment to us. The rainbow is shaped like an archer’s bow – but it’s an undrawn bow. The Hebrew word that we translate ‘rainbow’ usually means in the Old Testament, ‘the bow of war.’ In this instance, God puts aside his bow.[4] God is no longer after the enemy. The hunt has been called off. God determines never again to use God’s weapon, no matter how rebellious God’s creation becomes. And that’s a good thing because we only have to read the very next story in Genesis to know that it’s not very flattering to Noah and his family.

And it’s not just Noah. Many would argue that the human race keeps getting worse all the time. I don’t know about that but I do know that whether we keep getting worse or have moments when we get better, God still claims us. Because of God’s promise, and because of what Jesus has done for us, we all have a place in the ark.

So if God can choose to turn to us in a new way, isn’t that same option open to us? Can’t we choose to turn to God in new ways? Can’t we start anew just as God did?

One of my favorite authors, Walter Wangerin, Jr., tells a very human story about his son Matthew.[5] Matthew was one of these kids who, as soon as he learned to read, fell in love with comic books. Now his parents, being good well-intentioned people, tried to limit his comic book intake because he’d read them all day if you let him. He could only have so many comic books each year so he would also read something of quality.

One day, Matthew’s parents discovered in his room stacks upon stacks of contraband comic books. As they examined this smuggled material, they learned they were all from the public library. They weren’t checked out either – they were stolen! So Matthew’s parents gave him a lecture about honesty and stealing, made him gather up all the stolen comic books, and take them back to the library. They hoped this would be the end of the story.

A year later, they again discovered contraband comic books in young Matthew’s room. This time they learned they weren’t taken from the library, but were stolen from a convenience store while the family was on vacation several states away. Again they lectured him and made him throw all his comic books in a fire, one after another. Again, the parents prayed Matthew learned his lesson. But before too long, they again found stolen comic books in Matthew’s room.

His parents were desperate to find some way to get their message across. How could they stop him from stealing? They chose a method many today would disagree with. They chose corporal punishment. Walter Wangerin took Matthew to his study, gave him a lecture again, and then gave him a good spanking. Afterwards, the father said, “Now sit here in this chair and think about what you’ve done and what will happen if you don’t overcome this!” Then Matthew’s dad went outside, closed the door of his study, leaned against the wall in the hallway, and wept. He wept because of what his son had done. He also wept because of what he had done. He wept out of fear for what the future might hold for this child of his. He wept for his son’s present.

Years later, when Matthew was an adult, he returned home and was reminiscing with his mother about his childhood. Somehow in the course of telling stories, the comic books came up. Matthew had grown up to be a normal person. He wasn’t perfect but then he wasn’t a thief either. Matthew’s mother asked him in their conversation what was the turning point for him? And Matthew said, “Well, you know after that time Dad spanked me I never stole again.” She asked, “Was that because he spanked you?” And Matthew replied, “No, it was because after he left the room I heard him crying and could never take anything again.”

The story of the great flood is the story of God’s tears for a fallen, failing humanity. Anytime you or I fall into sin’s trap, God still weeps. When we hurt others or ourselves, God’s designs for us fail. We not only lose when we sin, but God loses too. When we fail, God weeps.

So we have a chance today – and every day – to turn to God in a new way. This is the beginning of Lent. Forty days from now we’ll celebrate the newness of life Jesus offers us through his death and resurrection. God’s never again through Jesus has opened up a life of wholeness well beyond anything we could have ever achieved on our own. So since God has turned to you in a new way, won’t you this Lenten season turn toward God in a new way?

[3] Walter Brueggemann, Interpretation: Genesis (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1982), p. 78.

[4] Gerhard Von Rad, The Old Testament Library: Genesis (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1972), p. 134.

[5] This story was told in Carl L. Scheneck’s sermon, “After Losing,” Lection Aid, February 2003-March 2003, pp. 43-44.