Quiet Time: Climate Change and Hope

Lord of every harvest and every season, You are the God who balanced the manna in the wilderness — where the one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little. You are still that God today.

I confess that I live on the surplus side of this equation. I run my air conditioning in July while a farmer in Bangladesh watches the floodwaters swallow his rice paddy for the third year running. I fill my cart at the grocery store while drought cracks the soil in East Africa and mothers walk nine miles to find clean water for their children. The imbalance Paul described to the Corinthians is not an abstraction — it is measured now in carbon parts per million, in rising coastlines, in seasons that no longer keep their ancient promises.

Yet You are not a God of despair. You are Jehovah Jireh, the One who provides — and You have provided enough for all of us, if only we will share it. Teach me the Baptist conviction that every soul bears Your image, and that stewardship of this earth is not politics but obedience. Show me one concrete step today — smaller electricity bills offered as quiet worship, a letter written, a tree planted in faith that my grandchildren will sit in its shade.

In the name of Jesus, who fed five thousand and wasted nothing, Amen.