Christian creation care isn’t about winning arguments or proving who cares more. It’s about learning to live as disciples who love God, our neighbors, and the world God made. Sometimes the way we care for creation begins with something as simple as a conversation across the table.
“It’s all gonna burn anyways,” said Josh.
Josh and I were sitting in our favorite tamale place catching up after several months. It was one of those small restaurants where the salsa is always too spicy at first and then suddenly you can’t stop eating it. We had already burned through the usual updates about work, kids, and church.
He had been telling me about his annual winter backpacking trip. Every year he and a dozen other guys wait until the dead of winter and hike out into the wilderness in subzero temperatures to sleep in tents on top of snow.
I was invited once.
I declined immediately.
There are some spiritual disciplines I can appreciate from a distance. I mean I love being in creation, but I have limits. Apparently Josh doesn’t.
After telling me about nearly freezing to death for fun, Dave moved on to his next adventure in creation: gardening.
He had this big lawn he wanted to convert into a garden with tomatoes, zucchini, pumpkins, the whole thing. I got excited. I love when people decide to grow food. Even a little garden changes the way you see the world, people, and faith. And besides, it gives us a new source of endless conversation.
So I asked him how he planned to do it.
“I saw this YouTube video where this guy sprayed RoundUp all over the lawn,” he said casually. “It’s super easy. The grass dies and you can just plant right into the dead grass like that.”
My fork stopped halfway to my mouth.
I just stared at him for a second.
“Did you know that RoundUp is glyphosate?” I asked. “A water-soluble poison?”
Josh blinked. “What does that mean?”
“It means it doesn’t just kill grass,” I said. “It’s designed to wipe out life in the soil. I wouldn’t spray that on my property, especially right before trying to grow food there.”
And then he shrugged, grinned, and said it with a laugh:
“Well, it’s all gonna burn anyways, right?”
Okay.
I mean… what do you even say to that?
Why brush my teeth? They’re all gonna fall out eventually anyway.
Why wear a seat belt? We all die someday.
Why pave the street? Why recycle? Why wash your clothes? Why care for your neighbor? Why forgive? Why cook a good meal? Why bother caring for anything at all?
At first, I wanted to push back hard. I wanted to tell him how depressing of a life outlook that was and how it flew straight in the face of his love for the outdoors.
And I also wanted to dissect his theology. I wanted to explain why that view of the future misses the point of resurrection and restoration and new creation. I wanted to quote verses. I wanted to explain soil biology. I wanted to tell him about chemicals in groundwater and collapsing pollinator populations and how everything is connected.
Mostly, if I’m honest, I was just horrified. And I wanted him to know that what he was planning to do was just wrong.
But sitting there across the table, I realized something uncomfortable.
I had cornered him.
More than making a theological statement about the end times, he was defending himself. And rightly so. I had come in a bit hot with judgment, and his comment was his way of restoring equilibrium between us.
And honestly, I understood that feeling. I’ve done the same thing before.
Sometimes when I feel exposed, I reach for theology the way kids grab couch cushions during a nerf gun fight. Not because it’s right but because I need cover.
And beneath Josh’s theological cover, I could tell he wanted something simple:
He wanted us to stay friends.
He didn’t want to be on the opposing side from me. He referenced something from our Christian faith in order to reestablish some common ground.
And that was enough to remind me that I am first and foremost a disciple of Jesus.
A disciple is one who learns. A person who notices Jesus at work, lets Him change their mind, and begins acting differently because of it. It would be nice if that kind of discipleship stopped when my Bible closed in the morning. But in the middle of the taco shop Jesus got my attention and reminded me that we’re both disciples here to learn.
So I decided not to escalate.
Instead I said, “Ha. Well, if that works best for you, go for it. But I learned about another way to do it that was way easier for me.”
His posture changed immediately.
“Oh yeah? What is it?”
“I just laid cardboard over the grass,” I said. “Then I put about four inches of compost on top and planted directly into it that same day. No tilling. No chemicals. The grass underneath breaks down naturally and feeds the soil. And honestly,” I added, “the plants grow like crazy because you keep all the life in the ground intact.”
That was it. No debate. Of course, he wanted to know more so we talked about international farmers and no-till gardening and how much easier it is to work with God in creation, rather than against Him.
But there definitely wasn’t a theological cage match over the fate of the Earth. Just two gardeners talking through what is working.
A couple months later I stopped by his house.
He walked me around back, and I literally laughed out loud.
His garden was enormous.
Where a flat lawn used to be now stood this thriving, overflowing jungle of life. Tomato plants leaned drunkenly out of their cages under the weight of bright red fruit. Pumpkin vines crawled across pathways into the wrong rows. Sweet potato vines tangled themselves everywhere. Carrots with their heavy green plumage pushed their orange shoulders above the rich dark soil. Blueberry bushes flanked the garden proudly with little buds. The sprinklers like fireworks scattered the morning sunlight.
It was gorgeous. Annoyingly gorgeous.
In fact, I hate to admit this publicly, but his garden looked way better than mine.
We stood there quietly for a minute taking it all in.
I thought back to our RoundUp conversation and remembered something important: My Christian brothers and sisters who care differently than I do are not my enemies.
My instinct to correct, alarm, debate, or win could have robbed both of us of this moment in front of his garden. If I had pushed harder, he probably would have dug in deeper. Not because he wanted creation to burn, but because nobody likes feeling talked down to.
But grace left room for growth.
That doesn’t mean convictions don’t matter. They do. Soil matters. Water matters. Creation matters. The things we do with our bodies and properties and neighborhoods matter deeply.
But relationships matter too.
That’s why we built Tend, an initiative of Plant With Purpose, the way we did. Christian creation care was never meant to be another issue to argue about. It’s a way we grow deeper relationships with Jesus, each other, and the places God has entrusted to us
I patted Josh on the shoulder while we stood there looking at his absurdly beautiful garden, amazed at what had taken root.
FAQ
Does caring for creation really matter if the world is temporary?
Yes. Christians care for creation not because we believe the Earth is ultimate but because creation belongs to God. Throughout Scripture, humans are invited to tend and keep what God has made. Temporary things still matter. Whether it’s with the Earth or people, relationships are temporary, and yet we still nurture them with love and care.
Is environmental care political?
It doesn’t have to be. Caring for soil, water, food, and neighborhoods can simply be an act of gratitude, stewardship, and love for others. Most people already practice forms of creation care without using that language.
What’s wrong with using RoundUp in a garden?
People have different opinions and comfort levels about herbicides. My concern is that glyphosate-based products like RoundUp affect more than just weeds. Besides, in our work alongside farmers around the world, we’ve seen regenerative practices like composting, no-till gardening, low-till farming, and agroecology create healthier soil, more abundant crops, and more resilient growing systems over time.
What is the cardboard-and-compost gardening method?
It’s often called sheet mulching or no-till gardening. You lay cardboard over existing grass to block sunlight, then add compost or mulch on top. Over time the grass breaks down underneath, feeding the soil while preserving much of the microbial life already there.
What did this experience teach you?
Mostly that people grow better through grace than through fear. And that staying in relationship long enough to wonder together is often more transformative than trying to win an argument.
