We Believe in God: One, Father, Creator

Other Texts: Deuteronomy 6:4–5, Isaiah 45:5–6, Colossians 1:16–17, Isaiah 9:6, Matthew 6:9, Genesis 17:1–7

Introduction

Today we begin a journey through one of the most enduring, powerful confessions in Christian history: the Apostles’ Creed. You’ll find it in your bulletin today, printed side-by-side with the Nicene Creed. These two creeds, though different in length and detail, both serve the same essential purpose: to help the Church confess who God is, what we believe, and why it matters.

The Apostles’ Creed is the older and simpler of the two, shaped gradually in the early centuries of the Church, especially in Rome, and finalized by the 6th century. It was initially used as a baptismal confession, a simple way to teach new believers the essentials of the Christian faith. When someone came to be baptized, they were asked three questions:

· Do you believe in God the Father?

· Do you believe in Jesus Christ, His Son?

· Do you believe in the Holy Spirit?

And the response, “I believe,” was more than a personal opinion. It was a declaration of allegiance, identity, and worship.

The Nicene Creed, on the other hand, was born out of conflict. In the fourth century, the Church faced a serious theological crisis: some began teaching that Jesus was not truly God, but a created being. The Church gathered in AD 325 at the Council of Nicaea, and later again in AD 381 at Constantinople, to settle the matter. The result was the Nicene Creed—a fuller, more theologically precise statement that clarified the divinity of Christ and the unity of the Trinity. When the Nicene Creed says, “Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten not made, of one being with the Father,” it’s not using poetic language—it’s drawing a clear line in the sand against heresy.

So why have both? Why put them side-by-side? Both creeds anchor us in the same apostolic faith, but they meet different needs. The Apostles’ Creed is relational and formational—a kind of faith summary you can carry in your heart. The Nicene Creed is precise and protective, guarding the truth of the gospel against distortion. One is like a family photo, simple and treasured. The other is like a passport, detailed and verified, proving identity when it's challenged.

And both begin in the same place: “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.” and that’s where we begin today. Not with ourselves, or our questions, or our needs—but with God. The Creed starts with the Source of everything, the One who made us, holds us, and reveals Himself to us. Theologian Geoffrey Wainwright said, “The knowledge of God is inseparable from the praise of God.” In other words, what we believe must lead to how we worship. Doctrine leads to doxology.

So as we walk through the Apostles’ Creed over the next few weeks, keep both creeds close. Let them shape your prayers, your questions, your worship. And let’s begin where the Church has always begun—by confessing our faith in God the Father, the Almighty Creator—who is not just a truth to be studied, but a God to be known and worshiped.

I. We Believe in One God

Our starting point isn’t ourselves, or even Jesus, it’s God. And not just any god, but the one true, eternal God. Deuteronomy 6:4gives us Israel’s most central confession: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” This was the spiritual backbone of God’s people. Surrounded by cultures that worshipped multiple gods, including gods of rain, war, sex, crops, and kings, Israel stood firm in its monotheism. One God. No rivals. No substitutes.

Now, someone might ask: “But doesn’t Psalm 82 talk about other gods?” Let’s read it: “God has taken His place in the divine council; in the midst of the gods He holds judgment.” Psalm 82:1

This verse, and others like it, can raise questions. What does it mean that God is among “the gods”? Is the Bible saying there are multiple gods? This is where context and theology come together. Psalm 82 uses the language of a divine council, a concept ancient Israelites would have recognized.

Other nations believed their gods met in councils, like political assemblies. But in Psalm 82, the one true God takes His seat not as an equal among others, but as the judge of all.

What we’re seeing here is not a denial of monotheism, but a biblical acknowledgment that there are lesser spiritual beings, what Scripture elsewhere calls angels, principalities, powers, or elohim (a Hebrew term used for both God and divine beings).

But the message is clear: there may be other spiritual powers, but there is only one Most High, only one to whom worship belongs. Psalm 86:8 says it even more clearly: “Among the gods there is none like You, Lord; no deeds can compare with Yours.”

And so we must understand that the Bible does not teach polytheism. It teaches that there is one uncreated, eternal, sovereign God—Yahweh—who is the Creator and Judge of all. Other beings may exist—angelic or rebellious powers—but they are created, limited, and subject to God’s authority. As Christians, we are not saying “our God is the best of many.” We are saying, “There is no other like Him. He alone is worthy of worship.”

Imagine being in a room full of voices, all claiming authority, but then one voice rises that silences them all. That’s what it means when God steps into the divine council: He is not one among many; He is above all.

So when we confess, “I believe in God…”, we’re not entering into a polite agreement with other faiths or spiritual systems. We are standing in the long line of Israel and the early Church, declaring that there is only one true God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and He alone deserves our worship, our loyalty, and our lives.

Irenaeus, writing in the second century, said, “The Church, though dispersed throughout the whole world… believes in one God, the Father Almighty.” That belief stood against the chaos of pagan religion and against the confusion of heretical teachings.

II. We Believe in God the Creator

When we say, “I believe in God the Creator,” we’re not just repeating a doctrine—we’re making a deeply personal and formational claim. What we believe about where we come from shapes everything about who we are, why we’re here, and what we’re made for.

From an early age, many of our children grow up hearing the creation story from Genesis 1: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” They believe in it with childlike trust, full of wonder. However, by the time they reach middle school, they’re introduced to other stories, such as evolution, the Big Bang, or a purely materialistic view of life, and for some, these stories seem to conflict with the biblical account.

Questions begin to arise: Can I believe in both God and science? Is the creation story just a myth? If evolution is true, does that make the Bible false?

These are good and important questions, and the Church should never be afraid of them. We don’t dismiss science, and we don’t dismiss Scripture. We bring faith and reason together, because truth is never in conflict with itself. Psalm 19 reminds us, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands.”

Genesis 1 is not a lab report; it’s a theological proclamation: God created the world. He did it on purpose. He called it good. That’s the foundation of biblical creation, not that we can map every detail of how, but that we live in a world that is designed, purposeful, and sacred.

In the early Church, this belief set Christians apart from others. Gnostics taught that the material world was evil. Some philosophers claimed the world always existed. But Christians stood and confessed, “We believe in God the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.” Not just a force, but a good and loving Creator. Not just in the past tense, but active and present in His world today.

To help us picture this, I brought a globe. It’s small enough to sit on a desk or shelf, but even this small replica tells us something. It’s organized. Structured. Designed. You can spin it and find your place on it. Now imagine someone saying, “This just happened. The continents lined up by chance. The oceans just appeared. No one made it.” We’d say, “That doesn’t make sense.” Even a small globe like this had a designer. So, what about the real thing, our world? Full of life, beauty, and precision. This globe is a reminder that this world has a maker. And so do you.

To confess, “I believe in God the Creator,” is to reject the idea that we are accidents of biology or random products of time and chance. It is to declare, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made, in the image of a God who knows me and loves me.” That truth is stronger than any theory and more enduring than any trend.

And it’s a truth we need to pass on, not just when our children are five, but when they’re fifteen, twenty, and facing questions that challenge their faith. When the world offers competing stories about where we came from and who we are, we return to the Creed and to Scripture and say, “In the beginning, God created.” That means your life has meaning. The world is not random. And our worship is rooted in a God who makes, blesses, and still speaks.

III. We Believe in God the Father

Perhaps the most intimate part of the Creed is this: “I believe in God the Father Almighty.” The early Church knew that calling God “Father” was not a generic term; it was revolutionary. In Roman culture, fathers had legal power to disown, abandon, or even execute children. But the God of the Bible is different.

God is not just the Creator of the world; He is the Father who cares for it. He is the Father who wants us to know Him personally, not just worship Him distantly. For us, we must see God’s fatherhood not as a concept to explain, but a love to encounter. Not distant and cold, but near and faithful. He is the Father who runs to the prodigal, restores the lost, and walks with His children through every storm.

Isaiah 9:6 calls Him “Everlasting Father.” In Genesis 17, He introduces Himself to Abraham as El Shaddai, the All-Sufficient One, who promises covenant and life. And when Jesus teaches His disciples to pray in Matthew 6:9, He invites them to say, “Our Father in heaven…”

For early Christians, especially Gentiles, this was an entirely new way of relating to God. Augustine later wrote, “God is closer to us than we are to ourselves.” He is the Father who doesn’t abandon, who disciplines in love, who adopts the lost.

And the Creed uses two words that balance each other: Father and Almighty. Some of us have known strong authority without warmth. Others have known affection without stability. But in God, these realities meet. He is both powerful and personal. He holds galaxies together, and He holds your heart with compassion. To believe in God as Father is to know you are loved before you did anything to earn it. It is to find your truest identity, not in performance or approval, but in being a child of God. Amen!

Conclusion: Why This Still Matters

So, church, what does it mean when we say, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth”? It means that our faith doesn’t begin with feelings, or even with Jesus, it begins with God Himself. The One who is whole when the world is fractured. The Creator who crafted both galaxies and your heartbeat. The Father who doesn’t abandon or forget.

When we speak this line of the Creed, we are doing more than reciting—we are rooting our lives in the eternal. We are standing in the long line of believers who came before us and saying, “I am not here by accident. I am not the center of the universe. I am not alone. I believe in God.”

And that changes everything.

Pastoral Prayer (before Communion)

Heavenly Father, We come before You as people in need—of grace, of truth, of healing, of hope. Thank You for being not just our Creator, but our Father—present, patient, and always reaching toward us. Thank You for loving us when we run, restoring us when we fall, and walking with us through every season.

You alone are worthy of our worship. You alone hold the world together, and You hold each of us in Your care. We confess that we often forget who You are and who we are in You. We confess the ways we’ve leaned on our own strength instead of trusting Yours. We’ve said words that hurt, held back love that was needed, and walked paths that led us away from You.

But here, at this table, You remind us of grace. Through Christ, You have opened the way back home. You’ve broken the power of sin and shame. You’ve given us new life—not just someday, but right now.

So God, we ask You to meet us here again—not because we are good, but because You are. Let this bread be more than bread. Let this cup be more than a cup. Let them be reminders of Your faithfulness and signs of Your presence with us.

And as we receive these elements, make us more like Jesus—humble, thankful, and full of Your love. In His name we pray, Amen.

Short Communion Reflection

As we prepare to share this meal together, remember this: Jesus didn’t invite His disciples to a throne or a stage—He invited them to a table. A place of closeness. A place of sharing. A place of grace.

On the night He was betrayed, He took bread and broke it, saying, “This is My body, given for you.” Then He took the cup and said, “This is My blood, poured out for the forgiveness of sins.”

This table isn’t about performance. It’s about presence. It’s not about how strong your faith is today—it’s about the strength of the One you’re trusting in.

So come—not because you’ve earned a seat, but because Jesus has made one for you.

This is the gift of God, for the people of God.