The very first thing we read about God in the Bible, ahead of anything else, is that God is the Creator.
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth (Genesis 1:1).
We’re told this again in many other places in Scripture as well. In the Psalms we read:
Let all the earth fear the Lord;
let all the people of the world revere him.
For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded,
and it stood firm
(Psalm 33:8-9).
When the Apostle Paul spoke to a crowd in Athens who had never before heard the gospel, he began by telling them:
The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands. And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything. Rather, he himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else (Acts 17:24-25).
And in the last book of the Bible the Apostle John is given a glimpse of the throne room of God in heaven. He tells us:
Whenever the living creatures give glory, honor and thanks to him who sits on the throne and who lives for ever and ever, the twenty-four elders fall down before him who sits on the throne and worship him who lives for ever and ever. They lay their crowns before the throne and say:
“You are worthy, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things,
and by your will they were created and have their being”
(Revelation 4:9-11).
This is the very first thing that God tells us about himself. Not that he loves us, or that he is holy, or that he is sovereign or eternal. These are all critical doctrines that can by no means be neglected, but they are not the first thing. Before anything else, God tells us that he is the Creator. Did you ever pause to consider why?
To those of us living in 21st century America, of course, this seems like the natural place to start; obviously, any writer would start their story at the beginning. But that’s not the way people necessarily thought in the ancient Near East. In Babylon, for example, the foundational myth dealt with a god named Marduk, who did, in fact, create the world, but the story doesn’t start with the world’s creation, and Marduk was not even said to be the first god to exist. If you asked an ancient Babylonian worshiper what the most important thing to know about Marduk was, they would almost certainly not say that he created the world, but that he defeated the goddess Tiamat, the personification of chaos, in battle. But in Genesis, creation is the first thing we read.
Ancient Egyptian mythology didn’t begin with the creation of the world either. And in New Testament times, Paul spoke to pagan Greeks whose myths, like those of the Babylonians, did not begin with the creation of the world. Rather, they began with the birth of the gods. So, if so many people in the ancient Near East didn’t think that creation was the obvious way to begin their sacred stories, why does the Bible start there?
The answer, I think, requires that we keep in mind that Genesis was not originally written for students in a philosophy class. It was written for the Israelites who came out of Egypt. They had been enslaved for generations when Moses appeared, claiming to represent the God their distant ancestor, Abraham, had worshiped. He brought the Israelite people out of slavery through a whole series of amazing miracles. Afterward, marching through the desert, questions about the origin of the world would not have been on anybody’s list of top concerns. Rather, what pretty much everybody would have needed to know is, “just who is this God that we’re supposed to be following?” And the answer was not for them alone. Moses was also addressing their children and grandchildren, those who would not have seen the miracles themselves, but only heard about them. It’s this question – who is God – and not the origin of the physical universe, that Genesis 1 is addressing. It’s not about the creation, it’s about the Creator.
The very first thing God reveals about himself is that he is the Creator. Not that he is all-powerful or all-knowing, not that he is loving, or righteous or merciful, not that he is holy, but that he created “the heavens and the earth.” The first thing he wants to reveal, in other words, is not his innate nature, but his actions. Why? I think the answer is that it’s specifically God’s actions as Creator that set the stage for him to show us who we are in relation to him.
Most of us recognize the moral principle that if I create something, it belongs to me. There are some exceptions, obviously; if I built something out of material I stole, for example, or if somebody else has commissioned me to make something for them. But generally speaking, what I create, I own.
That’s the point that Genesis 1:1 forces us to face. God created everything. He didn’t steal the materials; there was no one else for him to steal from. Nor was there anybody who could have given him an order to create. No, God created the heavens and the earth from nothing, motivated by nothing but his own desire to do so.
If that’s the case, then it all belongs to him. So the first verse of the first chapter of the first book in the Bible doesn’t just tell us who God is, it also establishes, right at the beginning, who are in relation to him.
Long before God rescued Israel from Egyptian slavery, they had been eating plants and animals he created, drinking water he created, breathing air he created, seeing with light he created and making their homes on ground he created. Even more than that, he created them. And that’s true of all of us. To put it bluntly, we owe him.
Throughout much of the ancient world, religion was thought of as an exchange. People provided food for the gods, in the form of sacrifices, and received various blessings in return. And in modern times, how many people respond to personal disaster by trying to bargain with God? “Lord, rescue me from this situation and I’ll start going to church every Sunday.” Or I’ll start tithing. Or I’ll stop watching sexy movies. Or whatever it is, it’s still a transaction: You do X for me, God, and I’ll do Y for you.
But in light of Genesis 1:1 the question has to be asked; what can I do to repay God for the things I’ve already taken and used as if they were mine? Regardless of what miracles I have or have not seen, or what prayers God has or has not answered, every single moment of my life, of all of our lives, has come from God. Transactional thinking, whether in the ancient world or today, is ruled out.
This is something that, unfortunately, is sometimes overlooked in presentations of the Gospel. We do need to understand that the righteous requirements of God’s law are fulfilled in us through Christ (Romans 8:4), but we should also understand what it is that gives God the right to impose any requirements on us at all. And God’s creation, of the world and of us, is that reason. He has the right to make the rules because he created us, and because he created everything we’ve ever used, or eaten, or breathed.
Even after believing the Gospel, it’s all too easy for me to convince myself that I’ve earned something by serving God as long as I have. That he owes me something in return. But that’s a lie. The very first sentence of the Bible makes it clear that God does not owe me anything. He never will owe me anything. Rather, I owe him my very existence.
Understanding this concept, that God is the Creator of everything, brings an end to every form of transactional thinking. I can not offer God anything that isn’t already rightfully his. That’s also why there’s no balancing of good deeds against sins, as far too many people expect. It doesn’t work that way. It can’t because, once again, anything God wants from me, I already owe him. I have nothing left over to balance against my failures.
So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, “We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty” (Luke 17:10).
But, for me, the greatest result that comes from thinking about God as Creator comes, not as a sense of obligation, but as a call to worship. Even heavenly beings worship God as Creator (Revelation 4:9-11), why wouldn’t I want to do the same? And one of the easiest ways to experience this, I find, is to take a walk. I look around and begin thanking God for the things around me; the sunlight, the bird songs, the distant snow-covered mountains. I’ve discovered that the more I give praise to the one who created all these things, the easier it becomes to find even more reasons to praise him. It’s habit forming.
Praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord from the heavens;
praise him in the heights above.
Praise him, all his angels;
praise him, all his heavenly hosts.
Praise him, sun and moon;
praise him, all you shining stars.
Praise him, you highest heavens
and you waters above the skies.
Let them praise the name of the Lord,
for at his command they were created,
and he established them for ever and ever –
he issued a decree that will never pass away
(Psalm 148:1-6).
Worship is the opposite of transactional thinking. When I meditate on God as my Creator, as well as the Creator of everything I see around me, it reminds me that my response to his love is exactly that: my response, not my initiative. I can never repay him even for what he’s already given me, to say nothing of what he’s promised for my future. But you know what? He never thought I could. That was not the plan.
But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life (Titus 3:4-7).
The God who created me is the God who saved me. May his name be praised forever.