God placed Adam in Eden’s soft soil, instructing him to “till and keep” the garden. Fingers brushed earth as seeds found their beds. Rivers watered roots. Thorns threatened blossoms. This was no casual hobby—it demanded daily attention to soil, sun, and scavenging squirrels. Adam learned stewardship through blisters and bent knees. [46:03]
Dominion means digging, not dominating. Jesus modeled this when He washed feet—kneeling to serve, not standing to rule. The Gardener God invites us to nurture, not exploit. Our tools are compassion, not control.
Your balcony basil or backyard tomatoes need you. What small act of care can you offer creation today? When did you last feel dirt under your nails as holy work?
“The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.”
(Genesis 2:15, ESV)
Prayer: Ask God to show you one corner of creation—a plant, a park, a creature—that needs your tending today.
Challenge: Plant one native seed or seedling in a pot or garden bed. Water it while whispering thanks.
John’s letter pierces complacency: “If you see a brother in need and close your heart, how does God’s love abide in you?” The early church sold property to feed strangers. They mended torn cloaks and torn relationships. Love meant calloused hands sharing bread. [50:13]
Jesus’ sacrifice wasn’t theoretical. He fed thousands before preaching sermons. Our climate crisis demands concrete acts—letters to leaders, reduced plastic use, advocacy for endangered species.
What need breaks your heart? Beluga whales fading from rivers? Grandchildren fearing barren forests? How will your love move from chat to action today?
“Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.”
(1 John 3:18, ESV)
Prayer: Confess one way you’ve loved creation with words but not deeds. Beg courage to change.
Challenge: Email your MP about one environmental concern. Use the sermon’s letter-writing example.
The Mohawk phrase “All My Relations” echoes through United Church crests. Indigenous elders teach that trees breathe with us, rivers sing beside us, wolves hunt for the pack’s survival. Genesis 1’s “dominion” poem wasn’t a mining permit—it was a kinship vow. [48:15]
Paul told the Athenians God gives life to “all things.” When we clear-cut forests, we sever family ties. When we pollute skies, we poison cousins.
Where do you sense kinship with non-human life? Could you greet the next spider in your basement as a distant relative?
“And God said, ‘Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed… and every tree with seed in its fruit. You shall have them for food.’”
(Genesis 1:29, ESV)
Prayer: Thank God for three non-human “relations” that sustain your life (bees, soil microbes, oak trees).
Challenge: Spend 10 minutes observing a natural space. Note one interdependent relationship you witness.
A grandmother blocks a pipeline, gripping her granddaughter’s photo. A hiker petitions to protect her favorite trail. A church installs rain barrels, loving neighbors downstream. Berndt’s three loves—neighbor, creation, children—fuel defiance against despair. [50:35]
Jesus linked loving God with loving neighbors. Climate action is discipleship—loving cross-generational neighbors through carbon cuts, loving creation through habitat restoration.
Which of the three loves ignites your passion? What sacrifice does that love require?
“You shall love the Lord your God… and your neighbor as yourself.”
(Luke 10:27, ESV)
Prayer: Pray for one person affected by climate change (a farmer in drought, a coastal family, a child with asthma).
Challenge: Calculate your carbon footprint using an online tool. Pledge one reduction (e.g., meatless Mondays).
The closing hymn wraps us in “sheltering wings”—a mother bird’s embrace, God’s promise through storms. Psalm 36 praises God preserving “man and beast.” Our task isn’t to play messiah but midwife, helping creation’s song continue. [01:17:36]
Jesus calmed a sea but also blessed loaves and fish. We partner with God through small, faithful acts: composting, advocating, teaching kids to plant milkweed.
What broken corner of creation needs your healing touch this week? How can you be both shelter and sheltered?
“How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.”
(Psalm 36:7, ESV)
Prayer: Thank God for a place where you’ve felt creation’s shelter (a forest, lakeshore, garden).
Challenge: Collect litter from one public space. Pray over each piece before recycling/trashing it.
We gather to honor the earth as sacred, offering thanks for the land we occupy and for the web of life that sustains us. We remember that creation sings God’s wisdom in every creature, every tree, and every ocean. We confess that a worldview of human superiority and consumption has driven ecological harm. We reclaim a different reading of scripture that frames humanity not as absolute rulers but as entrusted stewards, called to till and keep the garden of the earth. We see Genesis as liturgical poetry that invites awe and responsibility rather than license to dominate.
We embrace the image of gardeners who tend soil, manage water, protect seedlings from pests, and labor day by day for long-term flourishing. We acknowledge that this care requires patience, skill, and communal effort. We affirm indigenous wisdom that names all beings as relations, binding our well-being to the health of plants, animals, and land. We recognize that the covenant of care stretches beyond humans and that any true faith must include the flourishing of the whole ecosystem.
We name the climate crisis plainly: species decline, deforestation, and warming that will reshape life for future generations. We refuse despair by rooting our response in love. Love for neighbor, love of creation, and love for children must animate our choices. Love moves us beyond rhetoric to concrete changes in consumption, travel, food, and community life. Love compels civic action, witness, and enduring commitment.
We commit to practical steps: pray, learn, sign letters, and act collectively to influence public policy and personal behavior. We pledge to let God’s abiding love be our power source, animating us for patient, steady transformation. We promise to teach, to model restraint, and to build communities that value sufficiency over excess. We will work together, guided by gratitude, to heal what has been harmed and to steward a world worthy of future grandchildren. In doing so, we live a faith that loves in truth and action, and we invite the Spirit to lead and sustain us in this urgent, holy work.
As Christians, God's love is our power source. It is our God source. It is what sparks our soul and animates us to action. We are each vessels and instruments of this divine love. So let this spirit let this spirit of god which abides in us, lead us, direct us, and nourish us. We are not alone. Let us pray and work together for the healing of this earth.
[00:53:01]
(37 seconds)
#GodsLovePower
So it cannot be taken literally. It cannot be transposed to today's modern world in which we are consuming and combusting oil and gas at an unprecedented level. So when we read Genesis in the context of a poem, the poet is telling a story of how god created a world of harmonious order and goodness. And so in this context, dominion is not about ruling over, but more about responsibility entrusted to us by God.
[00:45:01]
(41 seconds)
#ResponsibleStewardship
What if being human with all our unique traits and abilities does not mean that we have a license to wantonly rule over creation, but rather that we have a unique responsibility to care for creation? Good question. And I'd like to back that up with a scholar's reflection, Hebrew scripture scholar Walter Brueggemann. He said that the beginning of Genesis is actually a liturgical poem. It was a way for an ancient community to give voice to the awe and wonder evoked by the goodness of God's creation as they experienced it.
[00:44:13]
(47 seconds)
#AweOfCreation
And he said the second is love of creation. Love of creation is another fundamental motivator for people in addressing climate change. Think about a time and place where you felt awe with creation or when you fell in love with creation. Birds, sunset, water, a beautiful landscape. Someone wrote that in these landscapes, he saw manifestations of God's love. This love propels many in their conservation work because ultimately, each of us seeks to protect what we love.
[00:51:00]
(49 seconds)
#ProtectWhatYouLove
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