On my honor, I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country, to serve others at all times, and to obey the Scout Law.

I had to recite that pledge when I was a cub scout and I still remember that pledge today. No, I didn’t make it to the rank of Eagle Scout. Boy Scouts was as far as I got. I wasn’t much of an outdoorsman, but I attribute some of that to my dad who pitched a tent with about as much glee as Willie Nelson paying his taxes. I did go on a deep sea fishing trip, though, and I was the only one on the boat besides the captain who didn’t get seasick. I didn’t catch any fish, but if something had happened to that boat, I’d have been right up there helping out the captain, by God.

Those words of commitment are a pledge. They’re a kind of rite of passage, too, but they resonate with the language of covenant. It’s because of times like that in my life—Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts—and it’s because of pledges like that that I am able to grasp what we mean by covenant in our world.

Because I appreciate covenant, I am able to have a better understanding of a cadet’s devotion to the core, or an Aggie’s devotion to Texas A&M University. Covenants are about being devoted to something bigger than you, about serving your peers in that commitment and, in most cases, the importance of tradition. Covenant is good, but when it comes to God, Yahweh, the Creator, the Alpha and the Omega, the Divine Shepherd, the Lord Most High, our Rock and our Redeemer, there is more to the notion of covenant.

Covenants in our society are good, be they in academia, politics, sports or even religion, but they can also be exclusive. Covenants as we like to understand them can lead to insiders and outsiders. They can promote a kind of inner blindness that leads to an outlook of indifference. And they can cause conflicts in our human wisdom over questions like, “Who deserves more loyalty: the family of my upbringing or my spouse? What deserves more attention, my vocational efforts or my philanthropy? What deserves more of my devotion, my political leanings or my spiritual discipline?”

The scripture from Genesis gives us an example of the covenant established between God and humanity. So, this morning, we might try to discern the difference between a covenant as we see it and a covenant as God sees it. What is the difference between covenant as I see it and covenant as God sees it?

It might help us to look at our own history in America to find clues about covenant living. In the days immediately following 9/11, our country was unified around a covenant that was committed to mourning, to helping one another, and to setting our cultural differences aside for the sake of healing. Those were a few, short-lived, unmistakable days of covenant living as God might see it.

Or how about the Civil Rights Movement in the South, under the guidance of one Martin Luther King, Jr.? Now, on a state level, the Civil Rights Movement was about bringing legal and social equality to African Americans. That’s a covenant that makes sense to the human mind that is devoted to tipping the scales of justice. But I would suggest that King’s beloved community was living into a covenant that was about more than equal rights to African Americans. King’s beloved community was about everyone, Black, White, female, male, young, old—everyone living together in a spirit of harmonious equality, where we would practice nonviolence in our attempts to engage one another in dialogue, so that we could reach a unified consensus together; not so that we could just tolerate one another, but so that we could reach a consensus. That, I believe, is covenant living the way God sees it.

God’s covenants are established with particular people during particular times in history, just like Abram in Genesis or Noah or Moses; but God’s covenants are not devoted just to that particular person or to that particular time. God’s covenants have to do with equality, with building up community, with listening to each other; and God’s covenants have to do with future generations and with listening to the prophets in our midst.

In 1961, my dad was on a paper route that delivered to the capitol in Austin. And he was fascinated by city politics, so he introduced himself to the state senator at the time, Henry B. Gonzalez. Henry B. was featured in the recent Tall Texans exhibit over at the George Bush Library. And Henry B. took my dad under his wing. He was always gracious to him. He even accepted my dad’s invitation to speak at his middle school when dad was in the 8^th grade.

Henry B. went on to become a congressman in DC, so Dad and he weren’t as close as they were before. But he had a son named Charlie who was Dad’s age, and Henry B. had shown Charlie the same kind of selfless love that he’d shown my dad. So, Dad and Charlie became the best of friends. When you’re living into a covenant, it’s natural to become friends…even brothers.

Dad was from a poor family on that side of Austin, and Charlie was from a family drenched in politics. They were acquaintances out of a collision of interests, but they were friends because of a covenantal bond. I look at photo albums of my parents’ wedding and Charlie is in most of the pictures. They were always there for each other. And when Charlie and Dad were still very young adults, Charlie had to move to San Antonio for his job. So, when Dad wanted to see his friend or if he needed him in any way, he drove over there. And if Charlie ever wanted to see Dad or he needed him in any way, he drove to Austin.

In the covenant of their friendship, Dad and Charlie were each other’s rock. Dad even recalls one morning during their undergrad days in college when he looked out his garage apartment window to find Charlie asleep in his Volkswagen parked at the curb. He’d had a fight with his girlfriend the night before and he couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to; so, there he was.

Now, what does this have to do with covenant the way God sees it? In the Genesis story for today, you have two narratives: You have Abram expressing his desires, and you have God demonstrating God’s assurance. Abram wants his family lineage to continue, but he doesn’t have any kids, so he’s leaving all he has to his servant instead. And he expresses this lament to God, kind of saying, “I’ve been a devoted servant, O God, and I’m happy with what I’ve got, but it would be so much better if I were to have a child of my own.” That’s narrative number one.

Now, here’s how God sees it. Narrative number 2: God says, “Abram, do me a favor. Look at the night sky. How many stars to you see? Too many to count, right? Well, you’re going to have more offspring than that.” Abram’s talking about having a child so that he can keep his legacy going, and God’s talking about an entire nation, so that the covenant living can keep going. Are you starting to see the difference? Our covenants are about particular people and particular times, and God’s covenants are about all people and all times.

In Austin, there is a 300-year-old oak tree that sits on a property right across the street from First Baptist Church in the downtown area. The owner of that property is a member of FBC, and she recently died. Since her death, some developers bought the property, and her membership at FBC prompted the developers to approach the pastor there about the tree. There’s a city ordinance that says you can’t just throw away a tree of that age and size. So the developer said to FBC’s pastor, “We have to do something with this tree. It weighs 400,000 pounds—that’s 200 tons—and it’s in pretty good shape. You have any ideas.” And the pastor said, “Yeah, we’ll take it.”

So, this developer paid $250,000 dollars to get tractors to move the tree across the street to the church and have it planted right there on church grounds. And now the entire church has become stewards of the old oak tree.

Now, everyone at FBC is excited about having this beautiful old tree on the church grounds, but what’s really important for them and for us to understand about this story is that the covenant is about more than the pastor and his flock in 2007. The covenant is about the entire church and the generations of children and their children to come who will be stewards of this tree. It’s a covenant about constant care, nurture and love. The pastor had a funny article in their church newsletter about how their newest member was 300 years old and weighed 400,000 pounds. And he wrote, “This tree, just like any of our members, is mature, but in need of growth.” That is the covenant we all share in this thing called Church.

But in this thing called Church, we can’t grow in any way unless we also listen to the prophets in our midst. Friends, if we don’t listen to each other, we won’t grow in any way. The Pharisees tell Jesus, “Hey, brother, you’ve got to get out of here. Herod, the guy who runs this town, he’s heard about your ministry and the amazing things you’re doing, and he wants to kill you.” And Jesus says, “You tell that fox that I will not waver. I will not change course. I will not back down, because this ministry and this work isn’t about me; it’s about God.”

Jesus didn’t get up in Herod’s face because of his ego. Jesus stood up to Herod because of his covenant with God. He was bound to that covenant for the sake of everyone, and that meant he had no choice but to keep his ministry going and keep doing his good work. And all that he was asking in return was for us to listen. Listen, hear and believe the Good News!

Listen to the children of God crying out for food and shelter and healthcare and education. Listen to the mad cries for peace in our world of war. Listen to the screams of the marginalized who are given names like ‘alien’ and ‘refugee’ and ‘parasite’ so that their voices are never heard at all. Listen to the shouts of gay and lesbian people in our world who have been told that who they are is wrong so often that they’re afraid to say what’s right and afraid to be what’s true and good.

It’s no wonder I’ve heard some people refer to this town as “closet station.” We need to listen. One of our parishioners came to the concert Wednesday night and she was wearing a button that said, “Someone you know is gay.” And I thought, “That’s it. That’s where God’s love starts. We’ve got to notice what is unjust about our world or we won’t grow. We’ve got to listen to the truth or we will never grow.” Again I quote Martin Luther King: “We have to learn to live together as brothers or we will perish together as fools.” That, I believe, is a covenant the way God sees it.

I know a lot of you know how this church got it’s name, but a lot of us don’t, and part of what it means to live together in covenant is that we share our stories with each other. It’s part of the growth process. When this church was getting started and it needed a name besides “that UCC church in College Station,” there was a 13-year-old girl named Becky who was a member of the congregation. She spoke up and said, “Well, we’ve gotten this far together as friends. Looks like we’re moving forward as friends. Why don’t we call the church ‘Friends’?” And the congregation listened to her. So, here we are 30 years later: Friends Congregational Church. And Becky is now a United Church of Christ minister.

Charlie and Dad were from different political parties, and they always talked playfully about their political differences. Now, that’s humble listening. Can you imagine a young democrat and a young republican having a humble discussion with each other where they really listen to each other’s views on foreign policy, domestic policy, and family values? I don’t think it’s impossible, but it’s a stretch.

When I was only 4 or 5 years old, Dad took me to San Antonio to visit his friend Charlie. I was sitting at a table between the two of them and they started talking about politics. And all of a sudden I became the focal point. It was like these two young men wanted me, a child, to pick right then and there what my political loyalty would be for life. But the funny thing about it was that they never manipulated my naïve views. They never got into a debate or some heated battle over who was right or who was wrong. They didn’t even talk about the tenets of the republican party of those of the democratic party. And I actually enjoyed being in the middle of their conversation, because all they talked about was which mascot was cooler: the donkey or the elephant. Based on that kind of happy, invitational discussion, this child of 4 or 5 didn’t have to choose sides. But I was given an invitation into the covenant of their friendship.

Fast forward. Henry B. passed away and his son ran for office to take his father's place. He became the congressman in D.C. In the summer of 2002, I took a youth group of over 20 kids to D.C. to work in a downtown park called "Needle Park" because of drug use and sales that had gone on there. We were trying to clean it up. There was an abandoned restaurant right next door to the park that were going to try to make into a youth community center.

While we taking a break, Charlie called me. "Bring the kids to me. Bring them on down. I want to show them what's going on!" So, I brought this youth group over to see the House, see where the reps meet, see what makes the gears turn. They were in awe. They also got to see how simple it really is -- a bunch of offices down a big, long corridor. They met in a conference room, and were greeted with cookies, milk, and sodas, and they were having a great time. Then the congressman walked in the room and told stories. They excitedly asked him questions. What's it like to be a congressman? Have they heightened security since 9/11? Do you have to wear some kind of armband or bracelet or something? Then, one girl in the group who never spoke – a girl who was by all means an outsider, a girl who looked at herself in such a negative way that her email address was Ugly April – raised her hand and asked, "How come there aren't more women serving in congress, and what steps, if any, are being taken to ensure that more women will serve in government?" The whole grouped gasped, eyes wide as half-dollars. The congressman smiled and, with joy, answered her question – a questions that would not have even been asked if it weren't for a covenental bond that wasn't about two people, but about all people, and about future generations.

When you live in a covenant, like we do in the Church, our shared vision has to be about future generations and listening to the prophets in our midst. That means we share our stories and our lives with each other not because we expect people to learn the right way to be Christian, but so that others will be blessed with the freedom and empowerment to share their stories and their lives with us and with our children and with our children’s children. That’s covenant living.

During this time of Lent, let us remember perhaps the most crucial demonstration Christ has ever taught us about what it means to live in covenant and what it means to be a Christian. Go to the garden of Gethsemane and see Jesus on his knees, praying to God in desperation just moments before he would be arrested. When Jesus prays, listen to what he says, “Father, take this cup from me, not out of my will, but if it is your will, take this cup from me.” That, I proclaim, is covenant the way God sees it. Amen.