An hour and a half of bland highway scenery passed before the occasional pot hole began to break up the monotony of pavement.  Another couple of minutes of resistance, then the asphalt finally submitted to the gravel’s reign, as the smattering of trees on each side gradually grew into full-fledged forests.  After only a few nauseating curves of bumpy gravel road, the path turned sharply to the left, exposing several football fields worth of flat pasture out the right window – the foreground of a painting dominated by rolling, tree-covered hills, the occasional winding trail, and bordered by the bowing Cahaba River.  The small sign on the side of the road read, “The Future Home of Living River: A Retreat on the Cahaba.”

I found myself here amidst a large flock of youth from around the presbytery that had claimed this land for Sunday’s “youth rally.”  Basically, in an effort to maintain unity with the higher levels of organization, some of the Presbyterian churches in the area will team up for some communal fellowship and worship.  If the local church is like a state’s U.S. Representative, then presbytery gatherings are like congressional lunches.  Except they don’t cost $200 a meal, paid for by taxpayers.  (Disclaimer: The PC(USA) compares the local church to the city and the presbytery to the county, but county governments aren’t as fun to mock).

Anyway, this presbytery has acquired something like 500 acres of green land, which they are committing to protect as its “stewards.”  Which brings me to the topic of the day.  You see, I have learned something about the word “stewardship” this month:  It never means what you think it means.

When the church’s development committee talks about “stewardship,” they are really talking about giving money to the church.  When the pastor talks about “stewardship” (especially in October), she probably means using your time, talent, and money to help further God’s work in the church.  When bearded Christians in twill hats and hiking boots talk about “stewardship,” they mean environmentalism.

In reality, the idea of ecological stewardship is a response to the notion of earthly dominion.  Christians who oppose environmentalism have often cited a verse in Genesis that talks about having “dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.”  From this verse, they have developed a dominion theology that sees the earth as purely at the disposal of human whims and desires.

Thus, those of a more liberal slant have sought to nuance our relationship with the earth by calling our responsibility stewardship (Also “creation care” or “theology of ecology”).  While “dominion” connotes indifference at best, the hope is that “stewardship” will imply that we have to be careful and conservative as we use what God has given us.  They point to passages like Psalm 24 that say things like “The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it.”

It’s interesting how fitting the word choice is.  I mean, you dominate something that needs to be conquered, trampled on and owned.  It is a gift, and as such you can do whatever you want with it.  But as a steward, you are merely looking after something that belongs to someone else.  I always think of that greasy long-haired character, Denethor, in Lord of the Rings (the one that makes Pippin sing and then runs off a cliff on fire).  He is supposed to be the steward of the throne that rightfully belongs to Aragorn.  And I’m a nerd.

So what does stewardship and dominion look like in relation to the earth?  With dominion, it doesn’t matter that oil is an unsustainable source of energy – surely God will give us something else from the earth to use.  With stewardship, the idea is to leave the earth the way we found it.  So, this might entail finding sources of energy that will not leave the earth completely ravaged.

Thinking back to my friend who wrote that article about the “6 things that unite Christians,” he actually put down creation care as something that we all agree on.  He admitted that it was a bit iffy, but with the rapid growth of environmentally-minded evangelicals it has become a much less black-and-white issue.

I really want to get into all of the different ideas at play here, but I’ve already written too much.  Here are some questions to think about:

1.  Can we really just be stewards?  Don’t we have to use up some of the earth in order to survive?

2.  What role, if any, does the church have in leading the world into a more responsible care for God’s creation?

3.  Can’t you believe in dominion theology and still think it’s a good idea to find renewable resources?  It seems like the only ones who will really be hurt by our irresponsible treatment of the planet is…well…ourselves.

4.  If we are stewards of the earth in the sense that God has given it to us on loan, then presumably God wants it back someday.  How does this play into our conceptions of heaven and earth and how we conceive of eschatological ideas (end of the world, Jesus’ return, etc.)?