Kerux: a portfolio of Calvin Theological Seminary - Volume 42.6 - 05 Dec 2007

Why Christians are Environmentalists

a sermon by Brian Bork, Contributing Editor

Based on a sermon delivered on Creation Awareness Sunday, at Covenant CRC, Edmonton, July 2007.

Poetry may not be the voguish literary genre that I wish it was, but those few who give it the time it deserves know well the descriptive power it contains. Though the Systematics may blanch at the suggestion, the subject of theology is often so hazy and mysterious that it seems the perfect topic for the obscurantist sensibility of a poet. Poets may prize brevity and metaphor, but that isn't to say that their work lacks any breadth or depth of meaning, or that it is unable to sound the depth of truth found in the mathematically precise and assiduous observations of Aquinas or Calvin. Even a writer as turgid as St. Paul knew this to be the case, and that's why he begins his letter to the Colossian church with a poem, detailing the relationship between creator and creation.

I can't say much about the poetic practices of 1st Century Palestine, though I'm fairly certain they didn't have poetry slams or the like. They probably were attuned to the musical qualities of poetry, though, and I like to think that Paul's poem was sung on Sunday mornings. If that's the case, then this may be one of the first protest songs ever written. By quoting these words, our little bowlegged Apostle is taking a stand against the might of Rome, shaking his skinny fist at Caesar. Each one of the salvos that Paul sends off toward Rome here stands as a direct rebuttal to what people thought about their commander-in-chief. In essence, Paul is substituting Christ in the place of a bunch of assertions that the Romans made about Caesar. For the Romans, Caesar was the alphamale, the pinnacle of humanity; he was deserving of the kind of accolades that people ascribe to God. Paul has no interest in joining in the litany of praise toward Caesar; he knows that to do so would be to the detriment of the believers he is writing to in Colossae, because it would compromise their faith in the supremacy of Christ. It would cause them to place their ultimate trust in Caesar. This, as we all know, constitutes heresy. So Paul quotes a poem here that tells his audience who Jesus really is, to combat this heresy, to tell his audience that they don't need to conform to the ways of the world, because they have a connection to something that is so much greater than Caesar's tenuous clutch at power.

So what about us? Most of us haven't pledged allegiance to any Roman emperors, and the thought of Caesar is probably more likely to remind us of bad pizza than imperialism. This poem isn't archaic, though – it's part of our living, holy scripture – and it continues to speak to us, remaining relevant to our situation today.

We find ourselves in a unique place in history – human activity has always had an effect on creation, but with the advent of industrial technology and ideology, our influence is now unsurpassed. Regrettably, this unsurpassed effect on creation often comes in a negative way. We are profoundly intelligent creatures, capable of amazing feats of engineering and accomplishment. But we are also profoundly destructive creatures, capable of ransacking our surroundings and vandalizing the planet.

Oil spills, deforestation, smog, and contaminated water supplies weren't really high on the list of Paul's worries. If Paul ever tried to raise the environmental consciousness of one of the early churches, that letter has been lost. Most likely, Paul didn't write anything like that. He seems more interested in telling people about the true nature of Christ, as if he's not as interested in their ecological sensibility as much as he is in their theological sensibility. Paul is more concerned with good theology because he knows that once people have a good idea of who Christ is, then the rest follows. Good theology is verdant soil; from it sprouts good ethics and good living.

And it's this nurturing theology that is needed here, today, flung so chronologically and geographically far from the outskirts of dusty Colossae. It's needed in the boardrooms and executive suites of big business, right down the corridors of corporate power – those who run the factories and the refineries and the industry. But it's also needed in our back yards, on driveways, and crackling along our power grids. Who Christ is has profound relevance to how we relate to creation.

Our loyalties aren't compromised by the Roman Empire anymore, but that doesn't mean that our lives aren't troubled by empires of our own making. Brian Walsh and Sylvia Keesmaat have written a wonderful commentary on this part of Colossians, in which they identify our current empire: the Empire of Global Consumerism. The lineaments of power in this Empire are ideological; there are no Caesars, but there are ideas that are totalitarian and controlling in much the same way.

The culture of Global Consumerism is one that prizes economic growth over environmental preservation. It values the disposable over the permanent. It trumpets the virtues of the expansion of industry, while sweeping environmental devastation under the rug. In the Empire of Global Consumerism, creation has little to no value in and of itself; instead, the value assigned to it is proportional to the amount of money we can make by using (abusing) it. We consume, we produce, and we spend. These things in and of themselves are not inherently bad, but it is no secret that over the past century, they have wreaked havoc on our beleaguered planet.

The Empire of Global Consumerism is tyrannical, too, in that it holds our imaginations captive. Our ingenuity and creativity have been severely limited by the constant bombardment of advertising and ubiquitous corporate logos. 1st Century Romans were familiar with a similar form of visual effrontery: pictures of Caesar were everywhere, on frescoes and currency. The images stood as a constant reminder to people of whose empire they were a part of, and to whom their allegiance was due. It's not much different today, is it? Consumerist thinking and consumerist imagery are everywhere. Try to picture your life without them. What would that be like? How would our lives look if we weren't confronted with the logos of late capitalism? These logos, this ideology, limit our imagination to the point where we willingly participate in the desecration of creation. Polls show that we are occasionally aghast at our behavior, that we want to be part of the solution to our environmental troubles, yet the statistics show otherwise. We live in bigger houses than ever before. We drive impractically enormous cars for impractical reasons. We eat counterfeit food grown in a fog of noxious chemicals and in weary soil.

The jeremiads in the secular environmental movement has long lambasted Christians for this kind of behavior. That so much environmental desecration occurs in parts of the world where the majority of people profess to believe the Bible is unthinkable to these folks. Their criticism is just; we need to hear it. We have Al Gore and David Suzuki to remind us of these things, but it's not the purpose of this sermon to position their words as gospel truth. Instead I, like Paul, need to bring you the real Gospel truth.

Paul's poem here is a poem of liberation. Paul's not just using clever language or fantastic imagery to describe Jesus here; he's telling the truth about Christ in order that we may be set free from the empires and ideologies which shackle our thinking. This is why Paul starts with describing Jesus as the firstborn over all creation. This is not a title that means that Jesus is merely the first in a list of things that God created. To interpret it this way would make Jesus a creature, just like everything else. This view is mistaken, because it is not in keeping with how the expression “firstborn” has been used throughout the Old Testament. In Psalm 89, for instance, God says that the king of Israel will be the “first born,” the “most exalted of the kings of the earth.” Here, “first born” is a synonym for primacy, an exalted figure, not just exalted in a limited way, but over all the earth.

When we realize that Jesus is the firstborn over all creation, we see creation in the context of Christ. He precipitates creation. He is the context of creation. He is the ruler over all creation. When we realize this, we cannot truly understand creation without recognizing Christ; creation abstracted from Christ is a diminished thing indeed. Without the reminder from Paul of Christ's primacy and supremacy over creation, the world quickly becomes something that we use and use up for our own desires. Our imaginations get caught up in the consumerist way of thinking, and we willingly pillage the world for what we think we need.

Paul goes deeper. Yes, Jesus is the firstborn and sovereign of creation, but it doesn't stop there. Jesus is not the aloof and absentee landlord of creation; creation is not Jesus' little fiefdom, worked by others while he is away. Paul tells us that Jesus is intimately involved in the very act of creating. Verse 16 tells us that by Christ's authority and power, all things were created. And verse 17 adds a qualification: in Christ, all things hold together. Creation is not then a one-time occurrence. Jesus didn't just give us creation so that we may use it as we wish until it runs down or wastes away. No, Jesus is involved in creation all the time and everywhere - creation is in perpetual motion. Christ's creative work is also Christ's sustaining work, and Christ's providential work. As the writer of the 104th Psalm tells us, all the world is renewed by the act of creation.

To truly hear Paul's words here is to realize that the act of world-making and the act of world-sustaining is holy work. Regeneration and resurrection happen in creation because Jesus chooses to be an active participant in the ongoing life of the world. This is a blessed, wondrous thing. What joy comes from knowing that our God cares for our planet, and is involved in its life, down to the smallest detail.

The joy is dampened, though, when we remember that we haven't always been the most faithful witness to the creating and sustaining work of Christ. The secular environmentalists offer many good reasons why we need to change our behavior: If we keep treating the environment the way we do, we are being bad stewards. We are living unsustainably. We are leaving a trashed planet behind for our grandchildren. These are all good reasons to be an environmentalist.

Paul provides us with a much more pressing reason why we must take care of creation. By ransacking and abusing creation, we are thwarting the creative and sustaining work of Christ. Things are hard to hold together when we're actively tearing them apart. By mistreating the earth, we are essentially saying that we don't care much for God's efforts to renew creation. We are pushing back against such renewal. We are refusing the abundance and blessings of God's active, ongoing creation. This goes beyond bad stewardship. This goes beyond unsustainable living. This is worse than leaving a trashed planet for our grandchildren. This is blasphemy.

This can leave us feeling intense guilt, and we identify precisely with what Paul means when he talks about our alienation from God. Our reckless interaction with the planet leaves us alienated from creation, and to be alienated from that which is created is to be alienated from its creator.

Thankfully, Paul doesn't stop the poem here. The wondrous job description in Paul's poem has another important point to consider: Jesus is the great reconciler. The great peace maker.

Paul speaks of the wondrous reconciliation that God brings us through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. When we acknowledge this sacrifice, we are yanked out of the old way of thinking about our relationship to creation. The consumerist mind-set – the exploitation and abuse of creation – these things cannot cohabitate with the knowledge that Christ has begun his work of reconciliation. Our imaginations are set free – we are able to see the world as Christ does. We are able to know the world in love, because that's the way Jesus sees the world.

You see, we don't think about the lovability of the world very much in Reformed circles. We're big on the fall. We're big on total depravity. We know the world is warped, and we eagerly await that glad morning where God will make all things new. And this is correct, for the most part – the world is warped, misshapen and fallen. But that doesn't mean that the world isn't lovable.

John 3.16 tells us that God loved the world so much that he sent Jesus on the divine rescue mission. Got that? God loved the world. Not the world as it was, before the fall. Not the world as it will be. He loves the world as it is, wounded and battered. And it was this profound love that caused God to empty himself into the person of Christ, in order to save the world.

It's apparent then that the Gospel has ramifications for the world in its entirety. The reconciliation brought by the gospel is not only between God and humanity, but between all things under heaven and earth. It is pandemic reconciliation. Verses 20 and 23 make this point especially clear. There is not one square inch of creation that isn't affected by the great restoration project started by Christ.

In verse 20, Paul lets us in on the driving force behind this restoration project, this project of reconciliation. The driving force is peace, a peace that invades creation through the blood shed by Jesus on the cross. When we read that word “peace,” we have to remember that it is being described by Paul the former Pharisee, the guru of the ways of the Jewish people. That means that this isn't the kind of “peace” that merely means the absence of violence. It isn't the “peace” of foreign policy, which is little more than a dubious and tenuous security ensured by the point of a bayonet. It is a peace of repentance, a peace that replaces enmity with harmony. It is shalom. Shalom implies wholeness, abundance, fruitfulness, well-being. This is what the blood of Jesus does for the entire creation – all things under heaven, says Paul. It brings about shalom.

If Caesar was central to the ideology of the Roman Empire, and consumption to the Empire of Global Consumerism, than shalom is at the very core of the Empire of Jesus Christ the King. And we are heralds of this shalom to the world; like Paul, we proclaim it to every creature under heaven. The shalom of Christ is all-encompassing. It covers the sin that we commit when we abuse creation. It frees our imagination to be able to see how we can do things differently. It repairs the damage that we've inflicted on creation. This is where ecology starts. This is why Christians are environmentalists. Shalom. The shalom of Christ renews our lives and provides us with the awareness and opportunity to participate in the renewal of creation.

Kerux will be featuring student sermons throughout the coming year. Please submit yours to letters@kerux.org.