by Gen Rees-Carter

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I remember sitting in church on one of my first visits during the Season of Creation, listening to the liturgy about how we have been “given this earth to care for and delight in, so that all your creatures may enjoy its bounty.” I couldn’t help but think how different this was from the Christianity I had grown up hearing about. As I sat there, still figuring out what I believed about God, one thought stood out: If this is what Christians truly believe, shouldn’t they be leading the fight against climate change?

Growing up, I didn’t attend church much, aside from the annual Carols by Candlelight service, where I sang songs celebrating the birth of Jesus, who had supposedly come to whisk me away to heaven when I died. Even though I wasn’t immersed in church life, I was surrounded by plenty of opinions about what Christians believed.

I was strongly under the impression that the ultimate goal was to get to heaven when we died—as long as we were “good enough.” There was little talk about Earth or creation. Instead, it seemed like Earth was just a temporary waiting room, a place to prove ourselves before (hopefully) being transported to a better place. The planet itself wasn’t particularly important.

I remember feeling deeply distressed when I lost a pet and asking my parents if I would see my cat, Milly, again in heaven. While they assured me she would be there, any information I found about Christianity focused solely on the salvation of people. The fate of animals? Never mentioned.

All in all, my impression of Christianity was that it was solely about the salvation of humans, and the rest of the world didn’t really matter.

While I pushed aside the question of my own salvation for another day, I was much more concerned with the environment and animals. At school, we learned about litter, CFCs, and greenhouse gases. We were taught that trees were essential for removing carbon from the atmosphere and that deforestation led to drought, soil degradation, and habitat destruction.

As I grew older, my passion for animal welfare led me to become vegetarian and then vegan. I surrounded myself with people who firmly believed that humans didn’t have dominion over the Earth but rather a responsibility to care for and protect it for future generations. They argued that animals had souls and that how we treated them mattered. These ideas resonated deeply with me—but they felt completely at odds with what I thought Christianity taught about the world and our place in it.

Eventually, Christianity fell by the wayside for me. The claims of environmentalists and animal rights activists felt more real, more grounded in truth.

That was, until I found myself back in church at age 38, hearing the many references to creation woven throughout the service.

As I listened to the words of the Thanksgiving—“you have given us this earth to care for and delight in, so that all your creatures may enjoy its bounty”—I realized something: my environmentalist friends were right. The Earth wasn’t just a temporary stopover; it was something we were meant to care for. When I finally started reading the Bible with fresh eyes, I found explicit directives for Christians to protect the Earth, including the very clear instruction: “Hurt not the earth, neither the sea nor the trees” (Revelation 7:3).

Then, another phrase in the liturgy struck me: “All life, all holiness, comes from you.” It made me think—perhaps the vegans were onto something, too. Maybe God really did care about all animals and what was happening to them. The Bible reinforced this idea as well: “God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on Earth or in heaven” (Colossians 1:20), and he made a covenant “with every living creature” (Genesis 9:8–17). Clearly, God’s concern extended far beyond just human souls.

If Christians are called to be stewards of the Earth, then it is undeniably our responsibility to care for it.

That said, it’s easy to feel powerless in the face of global environmental challenges. We hear about billionaires flying private jets and governments refusing to phase out fossil fuels. Climate treaties like the Paris Agreement are abandoned, and new coal and gas projects continue to be approved.

Meanwhile, we sip from paper straws and pay extra for reusable shopping bags, wondering if these small efforts make any real difference.

But there is something significant we can do—something that has a major impact on the climate.

We can change the way we eat.

Currently, one-third of greenhouse gas emissions come from animal agriculture—the meat, dairy, and other animal products we consume. This is even higher than emissions from the entire transport sector, including those private jets and mega-yachts.

If the world shifted to a plant-based diet, we could stabilize greenhouse gas emissions for the next 30 years—buying crucial time for other technologies and mitigation efforts to catch up.

Not only that, but a global move to plant-based eating would free up to 76% of the land currently used for animal agriculture, allowing vast areas to return to their natural state.

And the best part? Changing your diet is something you can do immediately. You don’t have to wait for the government to take action or for billionaires to grow a conscience. Even small changes make a difference—swapping out red meat for plant-based protein a couple of times a week or switching from dairy milk to oat milk in your morning coffee is a powerful start.

Yes, this might seem like a radical shift in thinking. But hasn’t radical action always been at the heart of Christianity? After all, the early Christians were known for “turning the world upside down” (Acts 17:6) and acting “contrary to the decrees of those in power.” Maybe it’s time we did the same.

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