There are no passengers on spaceship earth. We are all crew.
Marshall McLuhan (philosopher)
Sometimes, on my worst days, I catch myself wondering if the things we do for this world will matter, in the end.
As a Christian, I grew up with the idea that the phrase “the world” was a placeholder for “the fallen place where sin resides”, and I was meant to resist the draw of worldly things. I was meant to be in the world, not of it and set apart, seeking something greater.
But in my experience of walking the Christian life, and seeking the Incarnational God, I’ve discovered something altogether opposite. God did not send me here to mourn a broken place, but to do what little I can to fix my tiny corner of it.
Stewardship, I think, is a concept too often misunderstood or neglected by a Christian faith that seems preoccupied with the idea that this world will eventually end, and it will have nothing to do with us.
But here’s what I wonder: will the God who built this world—this beautiful, strange, stricken world—ask us to answer for the ways we treated His Creation?
Like a host who allows the guests to use His house while He is away, will He ask about the sagging sofa, the peeling wallpaper, the holes in the floor, and the empty cupboards upon His return?
Christians, most of all! If you claim Christian faith, are you prepared for such a question?
I’m not certain that I am.
But this is not an apocalyptic message, or a warning. To me, this is in invitation.
I feel invited to lean even further into the green arms of this God-breathed world, this place where He Still Walks. To feel Him in these places, these beautiful places. The vast galaxies, revealed to us by the recent James Webb telescope’s stunning images. The tiniest worlds, hidden beneath our feet as we walk through our daily lives.
This is not the apocalypse, my friends. The end implies there is nothing more to learn. This is a new day, and every new day is an invitation to dance ever closer to our Creator and His Creation.
Did this piece resonate with you? Take a moment to share it!
If you enjoy this piece, please let me know by tapping the heart to like, comment with your thoughts, share with someone you think will enjoy it, and subscribe to get instant access to my future work right to your inbox. Blessings!
Milkweed on median strips
And people stop who refuse to spray chemlawn
Milkweed in yards
And people who say to pesticides - BE GONE
And welcoming all creates, in balance and in love
We create a garden for a bright and love-filled dawn
The Squirrel talked to the bird this morning
And the cat was gentle with the toddler who pulled her tale down the street
And although I was saddened to see fewer bees after the lady down the street did pesticide her lawn
I saw that her grass looked drab and withdrawn
And I so hope soon all we realize beauty can be sown without causing harm
And loving one another as our own selves
We can go on
And spread kindness and to help Creation's restoration along
Sing a song
Dance your feet
Bless with world and all you eat
And when you tweet, if you do
Question all those who claim to stand for freedom
Use your discern to see through
For all is not as it seems here on substack or twitter or elsewhere that could make a person bitter
But love will prevail and we will set sail
Not abandoning the earth, but giving her new birth
On winds of sovereignty and unity and love
We will be as peaceful as a dove
This 🙌 Yes & Amen. I love this so much & couldn’t agree more. We think apocalypse means the end, but it’s an improper understanding of the word. The word itself means unveiling. Fun fact: EuCALYPTus is from the Greek word Kalyptós - which means covered. And, so A-Kalyptós-Apocalypse-means an UNcovering. Unveiling. Or ... Revelation. It’s not about the end of things or the end of this world, it’s about the unveiling / revelation that God is restoring all things. (And we can part of that here & now) The Apocalypse isn’t scary. “Apocalyptic literature” just uses fanciful imagery to describe something that’s actually very beautiful.