“I believe—help my unbelief!”
-a father asking Jesus to heal his sick child, Mark 9:24
Sitting in Fairhaven this morning looking out at the bay, I marveled to myself: I live here!
This is a sentiment my spouse Jamie and I speak to each other at least once a month, celebrating that we get to work and play and rest in a place where we can gaze out at big water, catch glimpses of snowcapped peaks, walk amidst hip-height ferns beneath moss-covered giants, and bask in (mostly) moderate weather year-round.
At the same time I savored the beauty and possibilities all around, I read news about the effects of flooding in Pakistan and Kentucky (and then recall parts of New Orleans continue to face post-Katrina challenges). I remember the crippling heat waves in the U.S. and Europe this summer, and now in China. In August 2022, global warming is not hypothetical nor debatable.
Returning from sabbatical to Creation Care Camp a couple weeks ago wasn’t just a delight because of the kids’ presence in our church building; it was a provocation for me to face more directly how my actions in this moment affect my appreciation of this earth I cherish. I want to leave those campers with water and snowcaps and cedars.
I must be honest that global warming is one of the challenges that overwhelms me—it seems so big, how can I make a difference? How can even we, as a faith community, supporting one another in this work, create change enough? As a Christian who believes I/we must participate building God’s Shalom/Realm/Beloved Community on earth, I feel keenly what the father in Mark’s Gospel must have felt when he shouted to Jesus, “I believe—help my unbelief!” God, help me do this work with you despite my fears!
I’ll also be honest that reading Jim Antal’s Climate Church, Climate World (even knowing he’ll be a guest speaker here in November) hasn’t been a stimulus for me the way I know it has been for several of you. I just purchased Saving Us by Katharine Hayhoe hoping it will bring my spirit more hope and healing, as its subtitle promises. Maybe I’ll read it alongside Mary Oliver’s poetry about creation, because I know that reaches my soul in distinctly different ways than the more heady books some of us tend toward. Maybe I’ll try to pop into some children’s faith formation classes this fall to be inspired by their learning. Maybe you, too, seek the body-mind-spirit-emotion balance for doing this work we need to do to care for God’s creation.
Maybe we all find ourselves in moments of inwardly shouting, “I believe—help my unbelief!” Help me keep moving instead of standing still in my fear. Help me reach out in this community to find my ways of learning and growing, so I can be part of building God’s beloved dream for this world.
In hope,
Sharon
