Religion

Look at Creation—but Watch God

What Genesis 1:1–2:3 chooses to make clear

Editorial image for Look at Creation—but Watch God.

Genesis begins with a sentence that answers an enormous question.

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”

Then, almost immediately, it begins generating questions it does not answer.

What exactly is the Spirit of God doing over the waters?

How does divine speech produce physical reality?

How does light exist before the lights later appointed to govern day and night?

What precisely are the waters?

What does Genesis mean by creatures being made according to their kinds?

How does life begin?

Who is the “us” when God says, “Let us make humankind”?

What exactly are God's image and likeness?

What does blessing do?

How can a day be blessed?

Why does God make the seventh day holy?

The farther we traveled through the creation story, the more striking this became.

Genesis leaves an astonishing amount unexplained.

But perhaps we have been looking at that fact from only one direction.

Because while Genesis leaves many questions unanswered, it is remarkably persistent about answering others.

What Genesis refuses to leave uncertain

Again and again, the narrative directs our attention toward the same Person.

God creates.

God speaks.

God separates.

God names.

God makes.

God sees.

God evaluates.

God blesses.

God gives.

God finishes.

God ceases.

God sanctifies.

The things before us keep changing.

Light.

Water.

Land.

Vegetation.

Lights in the heavens.

Fish.

Birds.

Animals.

Humans.

Finally, a portion of time.

But the narrative keeps returning our attention to God.

That is especially striking because Genesis could have told us so much more about the things being created.

It could have explained mechanisms.

It could have supplied classifications.

It could have given far more detail about human beings.

It could have explained what image and likeness mean.

Instead, the relatively small amount it does disclose repeatedly tells us what God does in relation to what exists.

The imbalance is remarkable.

There is vastly more that we do not know than that we know.

Yet some of what Genesis does tell us is extraordinarily consequential.

Perhaps the amount of information we receive should not be confused with the importance of the information we receive.

Genesis gives us relatively little.

But it tells us who created.

Look at creation—but watch God

That may be the simplest way to describe what happened as we moved slowly through the chapter:

Look at creation—but watch God.

Creation fills the field of view.

But God remains the subject we are being taught to watch.

When light appears, Genesis tells us what God says, sees, separates, names, and evaluates.

When vegetation appears, Genesis tells us what God calls for and what God sees.

When the lights appear, Genesis tells us what functions God gives them.

When animal life arrives, Genesis tells us that God creates, sees, and blesses.

When humanity arrives, Genesis describes humanity relative to God himself:

“in our image, according to our likeness.”

Then God addresses humans directly.

And when food is introduced, he does not merely leave it available:

“Behold, I have given you...”

When the physical work is complete, the narrative still does not abandon its subject.

God finishes.

God ceases.

God blesses the seventh day.

God makes it holy.

Creation keeps giving us something to look at.

Genesis keeps giving us someone to watch.

Before anyone says anything back

Something else becomes visible when the whole movement is placed together.

Nobody causes God to begin.

There is no crisis.

No rival creator.

No battle that forces God into action.

No creature asks to exist.

Then life appears, and God blesses it before Genesis shows those creatures giving anything back.

Human beings appear, and God blesses them.

He gives them responsibility.

He provides for them.

He tells them that he has provided for them.

And humans still have not said anything.

No prayer.

No worship.

No gratitude.

No promise.

No negotiation.

Then the creative work reaches completion.

Again, no creature tells God to stop.

No resistance defeats him.

The work is finished, and God ceases from it.

Then he blesses and sanctifies the seventh day.

Humans did not ask for that either.

From beginning to end, the movement is remarkably proactive.

Before Genesis tells us what creation will do with God, it gives us a sustained history of what God does toward creation.

That may be one of the most consequential things the opening story gives us.

Whatever happens later, we have already met God before creation responds to him.

Good before evil

That sequence matters in another way.

Genesis introduces good before it introduces evil.

God sees what he has made and calls it good.

Again.

And again.

Finally:

very good.

Good does not first appear as the opposite of evil. Evil has not entered the disclosed story.

Something similar happens elsewhere.

Blessing appears before curse.

Provision appears before scarcity.

Authority appears before narrated oppression.

God's cessation from work appears without an exhaustion narrative.

Holiness appears before impurity.

That does not tell us everything these categories will eventually mean.

Later passages must be allowed to add information.

But perhaps later disruption should not be allowed to travel backward and become the original definition of what existed before the disruption arrived.

Holiness is a particularly striking example.

The first thing Genesis describes as holy is not something rescued from contamination.

It is the seventh day inside a creation God has just called very good.

Holiness gets there first.

Knowing without knowing everything

Yet none of this makes the unanswered questions disappear.

God says:

“Let us make...”

Who is “us”?

Genesis does not tell us.

Humanity is made:

“in our image, according to our likeness.”

What exactly constitutes that image?

Genesis does not tell us.

God blesses the seventh day.

What does blessing a portion of time accomplish?

Genesis does not tell us.

The evening-and-morning formula closes the first six days but is absent from the seventh.

Why?

Genesis does not tell us.

And here we encountered something important.

Perhaps knowing and not knowing do not have to be enemies.

We can know:

God blessed the seventh day

without knowing precisely what that blessing did.

We can know:

Genesis gives humanity a distinctive God-referential status

without possessing a complete definition of image and likeness.

We can know:

the seventh day lacks the closure formula of the previous six

without knowing why.

The unanswered question does not automatically erase the disclosed fact.

And the disclosed fact does not give us permission to pretend the unanswered question has disappeared.

Both can remain.

Questions are not automatically crises

That distinction changes the experience of uncertainty.

“I don't know how” does not automatically mean:

“Therefore I no longer know who.”

“I don't know exactly what this means” does not automatically mean:

“Therefore nothing has been disclosed.”

An unanswered question is not, by itself, counterevidence.

It becomes a challenge to something we think we know when evidence arising from that question actually bears against the claim.

That gives questions room to remain questions.

It also gives us permission to pursue them seriously.

Genesis does not seem afraid of leaving its reader with enormous unresolved territory.

Perhaps we should not be afraid of it either.

Anchor and vector

Two ideas helped me visualize what was happening.

The first was an anchor.

Some things become sufficiently clear that we can responsibly carry them forward.

God creates.

God acts intentionally.

God attends to what results.

God evaluates.

God blesses.

God provides.

God communicates.

God completes.

God sanctifies.

Those are not answers to everything.

They are reference points.

And they remain open to correction if later evidence genuinely challenges them.

The second idea was a vector.

The disclosure does not merely give information. Its repeated selections direct our attention.

Genesis could have told us countless things about creation.

The things it repeatedly chooses to tell us keep directing our eyes toward the Creator.

That does not mean we know God's complete purpose for every inclusion and omission.

We do not.

It simply means the direction of the disclosure itself can be observed.

The anchor tells us what has become sufficiently established to carry forward.

The vector tells us where the disclosure keeps directing our attention.

Together they give our questions somewhere to stand and somewhere to go.

What creation alone could not tell us

This also helped clarify the relationship between Genesis and the created world it describes.

We can study nature.

We can investigate light.

We can examine living organisms.

We can study reproduction.

We can investigate the heavens.

We can study human beings.

Those investigations can reveal extraordinary things about the world.

But studying vegetation alone cannot tell us:

“I have given you...”

Examining animal reproduction cannot establish:

God blessed them.

Observing the universe cannot directly show us:

God saw that it was good.

Studying time cannot by itself establish:

God sanctified the seventh day.

Genesis is not merely asking us to look at nature and reason backward until we happen upon God.

It makes claims.

It tells us who acted.

It tells us something about how that Person regarded what he made.

It tells us things about the Creator that the created thing, examined by itself, could not securely tell us.

Then the creation becomes the concrete world in relation to which those claims can be considered.

That is a different kind of access.

And Genesis is surprisingly confident about it.

A small disclosure with enormous consequences

That may be why the imbalance between known and unknown matters so much.

The unknown is enormous.

The disclosure is comparatively small.

But the disclosure is dense.

God created.

God speaks.

God's disclosed speech repeatedly corresponds with what follows.

God attends to what he makes.

God calls it good.

God blesses life toward abundance.

God creates humanity in distinctive relation to himself.

God tells humanity that he has given.

God calls the whole very good.

God finishes.

God ceases.

God makes time holy.

Those are not answers to every question about reality.

But they are not trivial answers either.

A small amount of revelation can radically orient a much larger field of unanswered questions.

The Person can remain mysterious without remaining a stranger

Perhaps that is the most important thing this slow reading has done.

Genesis has not made God completely explicable.

Far from it.

We do not know who is included in “us.”

We do not know how divine speech produces physical reality.

We do not completely understand blessing.

We do not completely understand holiness.

We do not know why every detail is included or omitted.

There is more mystery at the end of the creation movement than we could possibly resolve.

And yet God is not as unknown as he was when we began.

We have watched him.

Not through an abstract list of attributes.

Through behavior.

We watched what he did when there was darkness.

What he did when there were waters.

What he did when created things began participating.

What he did when life appeared.

What he did when humanity appeared.

What he did when the work was complete.

The explanations remain incomplete.

But a history has accumulated.

The Person can remain mysterious without remaining a stranger.

And perhaps the world can remain mysterious without making its Creator inaccessible within the story.

Keep watching

None of this gives us permission to freeze the portrait.

Genesis is not finished.

The God we have begun to recognize may do something next that surprises us.

Later evidence may strengthen what we have seen.

It may refine it.

It may expose assumptions we did not know we were carrying.

It may force us to change our minds.

That possibility does not make the present investigation worthless.

It makes humility necessary.

We do not need exhaustive knowledge before we can say that something has genuinely been disclosed.

And we do not need to pretend certainty where the disclosure has left a question open.

Perhaps that is one of the gifts of the beginning.

Genesis gives us enough to begin knowing the Person without pretending that we possess him.

It gives us anchors without eliminating questions.

It gives us questions without making every anchor collapse.

And through all the things it places before our eyes, it keeps directing us back toward the same subject.

Look at creation.

But watch God.