From Peter on the seashore, to Paul on the way to Damascus, to us and all creation today, the resurrection brings new life, new direction, and new possibilities. Here are some ways our texts describe the transforming impact of the Risen Christ:

1. Conversion. Our reading from Acts gives an account of Paul’s conversion from being a persecutor of the church to becoming a proclaimer of Jesus, a profound change resulting from his encounter with the Risen Lord. In this time of ecological crisis, the Christian concept of conversion needs expanding, to include not only conversion to God but also conversion to the Earth. So writes Pope Francis in Laudato Si’: “…a healthy relationship with creation is one dimension of overall personal conversion, which entails the recognition of our errors, sins, faults and failures, and leads to heartfelt repentance and desire for change. … The ecological conversion needed to bring about lasting change is also a community conversion” (par. 218-19). That encyclical has rich insights about reframing our relationship with the rest of creation, away from anthropocentrism, limitless economic growth, and exploitation of people in poverty toward a subject-to-subject relationship, recognizing kinship with all creatures, and the inherent God-given value of all creatures apart from their usefulness (or not) to human beings.

The idea of conversion is also described helpfully by Lutheran theologian Darrell Guder in The Continuing Conversion of the Church: “The ‘gospel which meets my needs’ must be replaced with the good news that reveals needs I did not know I had while providing healing I never dreamed was possible” (p. 155). The groaning of creation beckons us to hear a gospel that goes beyond simply “meeting my needs,” one that broadens our understanding of God’s concern and saving grace for all creation, and invites our costly response. Paul was “breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord,” a phrase that relays both his destructive agenda and the fear he instilled in people like Ananias, who was reluctant at first to go to him. Yet God was able to bring about a significant change in Paul, who became the Lord’s instrument for articulating the gospel before others. In our creation care work, we naturally seek allies with those who have similar views, but Paul’s conversion invites us to see how even those diametrically opposed to this way might become allies, even champions, of Earth stewardship with a change of heart. When did you have a conversion to the Earth? How might the Lord use you as an instrument to help others find their calling for the healing of creation?

2. Singing the song of all creation. Revelation paints a beautiful image of cosmic worship with “every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them,” singing a hymn of praise familiar to many of us in the liturgy: “Blessing and honor and glory and might be to God and the Lamb forever, Amen!” It is first of all a reminder that when we worship, creation is not in the background. Rather, we join our voices in the hymn of all creation and worship with all creation. Examples from other parts of scripture lift up similar images. The Psalmist speaks of all creatures praising the Lord, including sun, moon and stars, sea monsters, fruit trees, wild and domestic animals, creeping things and flying birds (Psalm 148:3-10). Other writers tell of mountains and hills “breaking into song,” the trees of the field “clapping their hands” (Isaiah 55:12), and the stones that “would shout out” in witness to Jesus if his disciples were silent (Luke 19:40). The Easter preface for the Eucharist also joins our voices “with earth and sea and all their creatures,” in singing “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; heaven and earth are full of his glory” (Isaiah 6:3).

At the center of this cosmic worship is the Lamb who was slaughtered and yet lives. It is an image of God’s ultimate solidarity with the suffering world, God’s self-giving love that in Jesus overcomes sin and death, the paradox that God is no stranger to the crosses creation bears but is present there working to bring new life. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote about fidelity to God as fidelity to the Earth, eschewing “otherworldly” Christianity. “It is only through the depths of Earth that the window of eternity opens itself to us… Those who would abandon the earth, who would flee the crisis of the present, will lose all the power still sustaining them... The earth remains our mother just as God remains our father, and only those who remain true to the mother are placed by her into the father’s arms. Earth and its distress – that is the Christian’s Song of Songs” (“Basic Questions of a Christian Ethic,” DBWE 10, 377-78). Earth’s distresses are many: ecological degradation, pollution, climate change, biodiversity loss, species decline. Naming them, “singing” them in lament, is part of our calling as God’s people. Yet we do so, trusting that they don’t have the last word. For in raising Jesus from death, we see God’s faithfulness to us and to the whole creation. Gathered around the throne and the Lamb with all living creatures, even in the face of death in our world, we make our song “Alleluia,” and proclaim the promise of resurrection.

3. Repentance and restoration. As someone who has swamped a canoe and had to swim it ashore in a sweatshirt and jeans, I’ve always been puzzled by Peter’s actions when hearing Jesus is on the shore. If he was “stripped for work,” as one translation says, why put clothes on? If he wanted to swim fast, why put on extra layers? There is another time in the Bible people rush to put on clothes: Genesis, when Adam and Eve’s eyes are opened after eating the fruit and they are ashamed. Perhaps Peter, realizing he is in Jesus’ presence again, feels some shame too, that he is “naked before the Lord,” exposed. Who wouldn’t want to cover up? But with the “charcoal” fire, Peter cannot avoid the connection to his sin. The only other time that word appears is when he is in the courtyard of the high priest, warming himself by a charcoal fire, while Jesus is on trial (John 18:18). Peter is asked three questions at that fire too, and he ends up denying Jesus. So, we can imagine him stopping in his tracks when he reaches the shore and sees Jesus beside a charcoal fire. In a time of climate crisis, what signs might stop us in our tracks – IPCC reports, record-breaking temps, reminders creation is showing us every day – that call for our repentance, a turning around? When have we chosen comfort while others face the trials of not being able to cope as easily with a changing climate and the violence being done to the Earth? When have we denied our relationship with the Lord of all creation? The layers of insulation Peter puts on cannot hide the truth. Will Jesus forgive him?

 Jesus’ invitation to eat answers that question. He breaks bread with all the disciples, just as he did on that shore with a multitude. The Last Supper wasn’t the last time for communion with Jesus. So also, Christ is present for us in the Eucharist, welcoming, forgiving, healing our relationships. It is a meal through which we are transformed by grace. A colleague of mine once said, “It’s not enough to hear simply that God loves us; what we really need is to realize that God knows us and loves us.” Jesus knows “everything” and still loves Peter. And that grace restores him and enables him to respond. “Do you love me?” Jesus asks. He has just shown unconditional agape love for Peter, who replies, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  “Feed my lambs,” Jesus says. And in the three times they say it similarly, what’s happening is more than forgiveness. Jesus is shaping Peter into someone who not only receives but will also feed others with God’s unconditional love. Peter wants to make good on his promise. But following the good shepherd, who lays down his life, we already know where such love may lead.

When it comes to serving and preserving creation, Cynthia Moe-Lobeda says we will not do it perfectly. In fact, she says, “we are in Luther’s words, ‘God’s rusty tools.” But there is freedom in that, to act despite our shortcomings (Building A Moral Economy: Pathways for People of Courage, p. 265). Wherever we are on our journeys of faith and creation care, may the transforming impact of the Risen Christ encourage us all in the ongoing process of ecological conversion, in our worship with all creation, and in our repentance and restoration as instruments of Earth’s justice and healing.