Concerns about the environment are timeless. A hundred years ago, Jules Verne voiced worries about the extinction of whales and fish—500 years ago, England was trying to remedy its lack of deer and straight timber-trees—1000 years ago, the Chinese were studying feng shui so that their buildings would follow the natural landscape.

What has recently developed is a series of moral and economical debates concerning environmental activities, person to person, business to business. Is it right to build a roof garden of indigenous plants? Is it wrong to clear a forest for a subdivision? Is it better to produce more capital, or to maintain a current ecological system?

These questions affect Christians as much as everyone—more so, maybe, because if what we claim is true, then Christians should know the right answers to ecological dilemmas. If our perspective is from God, it should be able to provide clarity in environmental activism—at least a few guidelines to follow. More than a marketing tool or syncretism, ecological behavior should be native to Christian living.

But Christians tend to either stay out of the argument or follow their personal inclinations and political lines. Busy with other pursuits, very few believers are seen in picket lines or protecting rainforests these days. In addition, we do not offer solutions, we do not mediate disputes, and we do not fulfill our role as peacemakers in a struggle that pertains to the Earth itself.

In general, there are some overarching rules Christians can apply to Nature. Nature should not be worshipped above/as God—this leads down the road of animism, with some humanistic stops along the way (if Nature is divine, people are either Gods or complete non-entities). Nature should also not be mixed up or confused into God—a path followed by many Wiccans, although they have my empathy, because the vastness and mystic beauty of the Earth is closer to a physical knowledge of God than most of us could otherwise reach. But it is not the same thing.

What Christians can do is explore our connection to Nature, what it was meant to be and how we are doing today. Biologically, we are connected to the earth, utterly, a part of its system and balance. We follow the same growth patterns, cellular division, and energy transference models as the rest of the planet—we are the rest of the planet.

Spiritually, we are connected to the Earth as well, perhaps on an even deeper and more meaningful level. In Genesis, we see that the creation of Humankind completed Nature. There appears to be no reason for God to rest until after He created people—we are the final It was good, and it was "very good". The chain clearly links: birds get seed, fish get water, animals get vegetables, and humans get everything.

Even today we see a spiritual link people uniquely possess, the talent of awareness. No other part of Nature can step back and look at itself or its neighbors in wonder. Trees grow, monkeys climb, but only humans paint pictures of the sunrise and study marine biology. We are the part of the Earth that is aware.

This has wonderful implications for the Christian life: An environmental solution that becomes clear when we remember we are supposed to be loving, caring, teaching, and sensible people. The way to treat the Earth is right in front of our eyes, in the way we treat our children, our neighbors, and ourselves. It is the combination of care and creation that should signify the Christian touch. The answer, you see, is much closer than it may seem.

Part of the Christian response to environmental issues has been the "Steward Model." We think of our position on the Earth as that of stewards, caretakers and watchers who rule. There are helpful words such as "subdue" and "dominion" found in the Genesis passage that encourage such interpretation, and the Steward idea is a useful one. It implies a serious responsibility, an authority that does not stray into the "do what you want" concept.

Nor does the Steward role promote laissez faire attitudes. A steward, after all, takes care of a home or possession for the person who truly owns it. Stewardship involves upkeep, good management, and knowledge of what the owner would desire. If the owner of the Earth is God, then the Earth should be taken care of with His aims in mind—and God's aims we know a little about: Redemption, love, creation, hope, and joy. With these we take care of the world.

It may not help us decide whether or not to install a green roof, but the Steward model does show the direction to go. It fails Christians only when the words "subdue" and "dominion" are blown out of proportion until carpe diem becomes carpe terra and people forget how to heal in their rapacious conquest of the land. This sin comes, quite literally, with the territory. True stewards, true Christians, should avoid the temptation and tread very lightly near their power.

There is an additional model to deal with environmental concerns, though, one that fits in with Christian understanding and provides a framework for choices regarding our ecological heritage. For this way to be understood, we need to assume Nature has life. Not only the flora and fauna we see around us, but all the Earth, rock and water and air, all alive. Since these are all part of creation, sustained as we are by God, the elements are alive, existing as a vibrant whole in His hand. Stars, sun, Earth, and sea are united in this single source, pieces of one story, connected to each other and to us. We exist together.

Such life-connection makes our role much more intimate. We become guardians, guides, protectors. We serve as representatives of a very large state. And Nature becomes not just a kingdom under us, but a family of which we are members. Through the gifts given to us, we work a fallen garden. By our knowledge and spiritual insight, we bring up our Earth-kindred in what ways we can.

In The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis theorizes—purely speculative—that man's relation to animals may be synonymous with Christ's relationship to Humankind, and that one of our purposes is to redeem animals as much as we can. I do not know if this is true or not, but we are definitely in a position to help. It is as if Earth had been given the eldest members of its family, creatures whose understanding is deep and whose souls are immortal. We, on the other hand, have been given a thousand wards each, a thousand chances to prove what we have learned from Christ.

Although this includes protecting parts of the environment against harm as we would protect a relative, it also means showing the Earth new abilities and encouraging potential we find in Nature, much like we teach our children and show our friends. Think of all humankind has done—many people know the pleasure of keeping a garden for food and beauty, showing the plants how to grow healthier, stronger, in better patterns than they would in the wild.

But humans have dug to the foundations of the Earth to make stones into dazzling gems—they have reached down and molded rock into entire cities, roads, and monuments—they have taken metals and oil and showed them how to blaze, how to move, how to bring forth power and energy across the world. Humans have charted the stars with names and numbers so complex it can barely be understood, and made trees into ships and houses and furniture. We have even managed to train cats to live indoors. If Nature was given voices, it may well be crying aloud in wonder and delight at everything people have imparted.

Of course, we are an imperfect race, and our treatment of the Earth has been imperfect in many ways. We are not always good Elders to our younger para-family members, and like bad parents we teach things that are not intended. We cause pollution, make poison, and are often careless.

This does not mean everything we foster in Nature is evil. This does not mean wet lands always trump oil plants and trees beat out manufacturing factories. It means we must say to ourselves: "We can show the environment many wonderful things, some things it could never be on its own. If this was our family, what would we teach? What abilities should we give or maintain here?"

Treating the environment as an extended family is not at first easy. It is, however, very rewarding—our responsibility, our right. Looking at the Earth through relational eyes lets us find our place again, our Edenic place of love and authority. This is what a Christian's environmental choices are about. It is our common vision, to fit as the aware elders of a beautiful family, following Christ's shepherd-ways, seeing the larger picture. In every ecological practice Christians have this source to draw from. The well is deep, and it is time to show each other, and the Earth, the sort of leaders, the sort of parents we can be.  

~ Tyler Lacoma has worked as a writer and editor for several years after graduating from George Fox University with a degree in business management and writing/literature. He works on business and technology topics for clients such as Obsessable, EBSCO, Drop.io, The TAC Group, Anaxos, Dynamic Page Solutions, and others, with an emphasis on ecology, marketing, and modern trends.