The Gardener and the Ground
A Sermon on Genesis 2:4b–9, 15
Before we say anything about
this passage, I want us simply to be still for a moment.
Not because there is anything
magical about silence, but because sometimes we need to become quiet before we
can really listen.
So, if you are comfortable,
close your eyes for a moment.
Put your feet firmly on the
floor.
Feel the ground underneath
you.
Feel the weight of your body.
You are here. You are breathing. You are alive.
Now take a slow, deep breath
in.
Hold it for a moment.
And slowly breathe out.
We often take breathing for
granted. We don’t even think about it. We simply breathe.
And yet, in the biblical
imagination, breath is never merely breath. It is a gift.
Genesis tells us that God
formed the human being from the dust of the ground and breathed into his
nostrils the breath of life.
Dust and breath.
That is us.
We are wonderfully made—and we
are made from the earth.
We are fragile, dependent, and
completely unable to give ourselves life.
And perhaps that is a good
place for us to begin.
Because this ancient story is
not simply giving us information about how the world began. It is inviting us
to remember who we are, where we come from, and what God has entrusted to us.
So, for the next few minutes,
I don’t want to give you a lecture about Genesis.
I simply want us to listen
together.
Perhaps, somewhere in these
words, the Gardener may speak to you.
1. Dust and Breath
Listen to what Genesis says:
“The Lord God formed the human being from
the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and
the human being became a living being.”
I love the earthiness of this picture.
God doesn’t simply speak and suddenly
there is a human being standing there.
God forms.
God shapes.
God gets God’s hands into the soil.
And the word used for the ground is adamah.
From the adamah, the ground, God
forms the adam, the human being.
There is something deeply humbling about
that.
We spend so much of our lives trying to
prove that we are important.
We want to be successful.
We want to be respected.
We want people to remember us.
We want to feel that our lives matter.
And then Genesis quietly reminds us:
You are dust.
Not worthless dust.
Not meaningless dust.
But dust that God has lovingly formed.
You belong to the earth.
You are part of God’s creation.
Your body, with all its strengths and
weaknesses, belongs to this good creation.
And then God breathes.
That is the beautiful part.
The dust becomes alive because God gives
life.
Your life is not something you have
created for yourself.
It is something you have received.
Every breath is a gift.
Every morning you wake up is a gift.
Every ordinary day is a gift.
And perhaps some of us need to hear that
today.
Because there are days when we feel very
much like dust.
We feel tired.
We feel discouraged.
We feel as though we are falling apart.
Sometimes life has a way of reminding us
just how fragile we really are.
And Genesis says:
You may be dust, but you are dust into
which God has breathed life.
You are not forgotten.
You are not abandoned.
You don’t have to perform for God.
You don’t have to prove yourself worthy of
God’s attention.
You simply receive.
Breathe.
Receive the life God gives.
2. God Plants a Garden
Then the story takes us somewhere beautiful.
Genesis says:
“The Lord God planted a garden in
Eden, in the east; and there he put the human being whom he had formed.”
Notice that.
God plants a garden.
God could have created a palace.
God could have created an empire.
God could have created a monument.
Instead, God plants a garden.
There is something wonderfully gentle
about that image.
A garden takes time.
A garden needs patience.
You plant something, and then you
wait.
You water it.
You protect it.
You pull out the weeds.
You watch the seasons change.
You cannot force a garden to grow by
shouting at it.
And perhaps that tells us something
about God.
The God of Genesis is not only
powerful.
God is also patient.
God is a gardener.
And look at what God puts in the
garden:
Trees that are beautiful to look at.
Trees that provide food.
And in the middle of the garden, the
tree of life.
Before there is any command about what
the human must not do, the Bible first tells us about what God has given.
Beauty.
Food.
Life.
Abundance.
That matters.
Because we so easily become obsessed
with what we don’t have.
We look at the one thing missing from
our lives and forget about the many things God has already placed around us.
We notice the unanswered prayer and
forget the prayers that have been answered.
We notice the difficulty and forget
the people who love us.
We notice what has gone wrong and
overlook the small signs of grace that are still there.
Sometimes we are standing in a garden
and living as though we are in a desert.
So perhaps today God is inviting us
simply to look again.
Look around you.
Look at the person sitting beside you.
Look at the light coming through the
windows.
Listen to the voices around you.
Think about the people who have loved
you.
Think about the ordinary things that
sustain you.
Food.
Shelter.
Friendship.
A cup of coffee.
A conversation.
A child’s laughter.
A familiar hymn.
A quiet moment.
These things can seem so ordinary that
we hardly notice them.
But perhaps they are small green
shoots of grace.
God is still planting.
God is still providing.
God is still giving life.
The question is:
Can we see it?
3. We Are Placed Here for a Purpose
And then we come to verse
15:
“The Lord God took the
human being and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it.”
This is where the story
becomes very personal.
God doesn’t simply make
the human being and leave him wondering what to do.
God gives him a place.
And God gives him
something to care for.
The Hebrew words behind
“till” and “keep” are rich.
Avodah carries the
sense of work, service, even worship.
Shamar means to
keep, watch over, guard, protect.
So the picture is not of
a human being standing over creation as its master.
It is much more like a
gardener caring for something that belongs to God.
That changes the way we
think about our lives.
Perhaps our calling is
not primarily about becoming important.
Perhaps it is about
becoming faithful.
We live in a world that
constantly tells us that greatness means having more.
More influence.
More money.
More recognition.
More followers.
More success.
But Genesis gives us
another picture.
The first human being is
not given an empire.
He is given a garden.
A piece of God’s creation
to tend.
To care for.
To protect.
And maybe your garden is
much smaller than you think.
For one person, it may be
a family.
For another, it may be a
workplace.
For another, a
congregation.
For another, a neighbour
who needs kindness.
For someone else, it may
simply be the care of their own heart and soul.
And all of these things
matter to God.
If you are a parent and
you are exhausted from caring for your children, that ordinary work matters.
The meals you prepare.
The stories you read.
The patience you
sometimes have to find when you think you have none left.
That can be avodah.
Holy service.
If you go to work every
day, perhaps your calling is not simply the job description on your contract.
Perhaps it is the way you
treat people.
Your honesty.
Your patience.
Your willingness to help
someone who is struggling.
That can be shamar.
Keeping.
Guarding.
Caring.
If you are an artist,
perhaps your work is one way of reflecting the beauty of the Gardener.
If you are elderly and
your physical strength is no longer what it once was, your life has not lost
its purpose.
Your prayers matter.
Your stories matter.
Your presence matters.
You may be tending the
garden in ways you don’t even realise.
And perhaps some of us
need to hear this very clearly:
You do not have to be
famous to have a meaningful life.
You do not have to change
the whole world.
You don’t have to
accomplish something extraordinary every day.
God may simply be asking
you to faithfully tend the little patch of ground that has been placed in your
care.
Your family.
Your friendships.
Your work.
Your church.
Your neighbourhood.
Your own heart.
That is enough.
4. The Gardener Is Still Here
And perhaps this is where the
Gospel begins to touch the story.
Because we know something the
people who first heard Genesis did not yet know.
We know the story of another
garden.
We know that human beings
failed to care for God’s garden.
We know about sin.
We know about brokenness.
We know what happens when we
try to take God’s place.
But we also know that God did
not abandon us.
The Gardener kept coming.
And eventually, God came among
us in Jesus.
Jesus entered our dust.
Jesus breathed our air.
Jesus walked our roads.
Jesus touched our wounds.
Jesus entered our suffering.
And even when we turned away
from God, God did not turn away from us.
The Gardener came looking for
us.
So perhaps this passage is not
simply telling us what we should do.
It is reminding us who God is.
The God who forms us.
The God who breathes life into
us.
The God who plants.
The God who provides.
The God who entrusts.
And the God who comes looking
for us when we are lost.
5. A Moment to Listen
So, as we come toward the end of this
sermon, I don’t want to give you another list of things you need to remember.
Instead, I want to give you a moment.
A moment to listen.
In a little while, I am going to be
quiet.
And perhaps that will feel
uncomfortable.
We are not very good at silence
anymore.
We are used to filling every empty
space with something.
Words.
Music.
Phones.
News.
Conversation.
But for one minute, let’s leave the
space empty.
And ask yourself:
Where has God planted me?
What has God entrusted to my care?
What in my life needs tending?
What needs protecting?
Where do I need God’s breath today?
Don’t worry about finding the perfect
answer.
Just listen.
Perhaps there is a person God brings to
your mind.
Perhaps there is a situation.
Perhaps there is something in your own
heart that needs attention.
Perhaps you simply need to hear again
that you are loved.
So let us be quiet.
Let us breathe.
Let us remember the ground beneath our
feet.
And let us listen for the Gardener.
[Pause for approximately one
minute.]
Conclusion
We began with dust.
We spoke about breath.
We looked at a garden.
And we remembered our calling.
Dust.
Breath.
Garden.
Vocation.
That is who we are.
We are creatures of the earth, sustained by the
breath of God.
And we have been given something precious to
tend.
So when you leave this place today, don’t
imagine that the important part of worship ends when the service ends.
Your garden is waiting.
Someone may need your patience.
Someone may need your forgiveness.
Someone may need your encouragement.
Something in your own life may need tending.
Some part of God’s creation may need your care.
Go and tend it.
Go and keep it.
Go and serve.
And when you become tired, remember:
The garden does not belong to you.
It belongs to God.
And you are not tending it alone.
The Gardener is with you.
So feel the ground beneath your feet.
Take a breath.
Receive the life God gives.
And then go back into the garden.
Amen.
Benediction
Go now as people who have been formed from the
earth and filled with God’s breath.
Go into the places where God has planted you.
Tend what has been entrusted to you.
Protect what is precious.
Serve those around you.
And remember that the Gardener goes with you.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and
of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
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