“Earth Day 2008” 

Psalm 19

1 Peter 2:1-10 

A funny thing happened to me as I was driving awhile back. You need two bits of information to understand my story. First of all, you need to know that, for me, there are two things that naturally go together: driving and music. When I drive, I like to listen to music, and if you see me on the road before I see you, you will often catch me singing, singing loudly. I can really let loose in the car. If I glimpse you out of the corner of my eye, I will quickly resume the proper demeanor of a “decently and in order” Presbyterian Pastor. But if I don't, it is likely that you will see me, well, enthusiastically engaged by the music. I can't help it. As the music seeps into my spirit, I can't help but progress to singing in an embarrassingly graphic, expressive manner. If there is no vocal, I often try to mimic an instrument's sound. I admit, it can get ugly. “No Dad.” Eric will say, “Please. Stop. Don't ever do that again.” I can't help it. Music just does that to me. 

Secondly, in order to understand my story, you need to know that the cell phone I had at the time had buttons on the outside, and that I would wear it attached to my belt. The seat belt runs right across there, so usually I would take it off, but this particular time I forgot. While I was driving along, singing one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands, U2, some of the buttons, unbeknownst to me, got pushed. And the last number I called was called again. A very nice lady at Olive Tree Software, a small company in Seattle WA, was treated to a stirring, loud, enthusiastic rendition of a song called Bad. 

As she was serenaded, this lady caught a glimpse into who this pastor is whom she had just talked to. She learned that I like rock and roll, and that I love to sing. She also learned that, unfortunately, I cannot quite reach all the notes that Bono can reach, but that this fact doesn't stop me from trying (at least when I think I'm alone). I don't know how thankful this lady was for this glimpse into my nature because when I realized the line was open, I quickly hung up and hoped that she didn't know it was me. 

That episode embodies a question that was raised for me as I encountered our texts for this morning: What do our lives sing? What glimpse into our nature does our singing provide? 

I ask that because, believe you me, our lives sing. When we are aware of it and perhaps more profoundly when we are not, our lives sing what we believe. Our lives sing what we value. Our lives sing who we are. 
 

Our Scriptures this morning let us know that we are singing. Look at Psalm 19 (a song from the Bible's songbook). 

The first part of the Psalm sings the song of creation. The heavens sing the blessed song of the creator. There are no words per se, but their voice goes out to all the earth. Day to day pours forth speech and night to night declares knowledge of a glorious God who created all and created it good. This is the song of creation. 

When we walk out of our doors and we see the stunning beauty of the mountains, we hear this song. When we go out in the middle of the night, away from the glare of human lights, and we look up into the sky and see the stars and get a sense of the vastness of the universe, we hear the song, the song of creation. 

The next part of the Psalm moves on to a different verse, but it is the same song. The law of the Lord (meaning the Torah, God's instruction, the revelatory stories and guidance of Scripture) sings of a loving God who makes wise the simple, brings joy to the heart, and

enlightens the eyes. Together, though in different ways, the creation and the Law of the Lord sing of a wonderful, loving, creator God. 

In response to this song of praise, the last part of the Psalm offers a prayer. It is the author's prayer that her life might sing the same song. 

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart (those things that come from the very core of my being), be acceptable to you, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer.” 

Let me sing your song. 

Today is Earth Sunday (next Tuesday being Earth Day) and so we reflect on the song of creation today. As we look at the current state of our world, we still hear the wonderful song of creation. Bess will help us to hear that song this afternoon (if the weather cooperates!). But there are also other discordant notes that have been added to the song, though not by the creator. 

In Psalm 19, the creation sings of the wonderful creator God; but today the creation sings also the discordant melody of human sin. The notes have grown louder as the power and weight of humankind have expanded. The notes in Scripture of stewardship and caring for creation have now almost been drowned out by the notes of domination and consumption. We all have a share in this song. 

I know that you are familiar the tune. There is overwhelming scientific consensus that human activities are producing carbon emissions that are increasing the Earth's temperature. As a recent Report on Climate Change from Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change states, some impacts of global climate change are already being felt, such as the intensity of

hurricanes and the increase of wildfires in the western U.S. This is not news to you. More severe impacts are still to come. Global climate change is expected to impact food production especially in places like Africa because of more frequent floods and droughts. Greenland and

Antarctica support massive amounts of ice that, if melted, could potentially raise sea levels by tens of feet. The decrease in ice mass has been stunning in its song. Warmer waters have devastated coral reefs throughout the Caribbean, creating the worst coral reef bleaching event

on record. Again, you know this song. 

In addition, global climate change poses one of the greatest threats to the most vulnerable among us, especially people in poverty. The impoverished and vulnerable do not

have the economic and technological resources to adapt to the expected impacts of climate change. Heat waves, droughts, storms, and consequent economic costs fall most heavily upon those in poverty. 

These notes of a suffering creation are profoundly moral, theological, and spiritual in nature. As such, they come to be a focus for us as people of faith, as a people who worship the

creator. It is time for us to sing. 

“Let the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts (those things that come from the very core of our being), be acceptable to you, O LORD, our rock and our redeemer.” 

Let us, O Lord, sing your song. Let us sing loudly. 

This song may place us at odds with our broader culture. It may place us at odds with the lifestyles that we have sung up to this point. This is the issue that arises in 1 Peter. “But,” Peter says, “you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people, in order that you may proclaim (that is, sing!) the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” Now, Peter says, you must sing a different song. Don't let anything distract you. 

It falls to us, as we hear the discordant notes of the song of human sin, to raise up ever louder the song of a loving creator, of harmony between creator and created, and between humanity and the creation placed in our care, so that together we sing beautiful harmonies of grace & peace. 

There are more specifics to be offered. There is work to do. We begin again today, and again with each new day. Many of us are about to receive nice refund checks from the government. We are encouraged to spend more, to consume more. Perhaps we need to sing a different song?

A number of you came up to me after the service last week and complained that I didn't finish my story of tumbling down the mountain in Park City while trying to snowboard. “You left us there. You're still on the mountain!” someone said. Well, obviously I made back, and I lived to tell the tale. 

As I said last week, after getting lost, I tumbled/rolled/fell repeatedly down a slope I had no business attempting. There I found myself: on my back, half buried with snow, a little sore, not sure where I was, not sure how I got there. Well, I had no choice. I had to get up. I did. I had to search a little, and walk a little, but eventually I found another lift to go back up to the top and snowboard back down the mountain, this time along the right path, to find Eric. 

So it is with us this morning. We find ourselves half buried by the news of climate change and the challenge that it represents to our generation. We are a little sore. We are not sure where we are, or how we got here. 

Friends, we have no choice. We have to get up! God's grace takes us back up the mountain, and then the Spirit turns us loose to snowboard (or ski if you prefer; we are inclusive here at First Pres.) down the right path of caring for our creation instead of consuming and abusing it. Along the way, we sing to ourselves and to those around us God's song of new life, and new possibilities, for us, and for the whole creation. Amen. 
 

      April 20, 2008

Rev. Paul Heins

First Presbyterian Church

Logan, Utah