And God Said It Was Good

Not every man can call himself a Master Educator. I can. Of course, the designation may have expired by now, and the title seems a bit ostentatious for so tiny a field of expertise, but according to the outdoor ethics program, Leave No Trace (LNT), the title is mine.

In 2004, I spent five days with LNT learning how to balance recreation and responsibility in the wilderness, and I must have passed the course.

The setting was Minister Creek, a popular hiking area which I had visited many times with friends and college students, but never with nobody because somebody was always there. Popular areas mean popular trails, and popular trails mean popular campsites, especially in a place that isn’t far from civilization and whose midpoint happens to be the convergence of three beautiful streams.

Sites like these would have been considered “primitive” when first discovered, like a pre-casino Niagara Falls. Now they’re “established”—hard-packed patches of dirt with litter and charred scabs of wood piled on the coals of a thousand nights worth of campfires. Beyond the dirt are trees hacked by near-sighted campers who wanted more and bigger flames.

Primitive sites invite you to rub shoulders with nature; established sites beg for hand sanitizer.

I entered the week thinking LNT would teach us to eradicate signs of human presence, like returning the sod we had dug out to make a little fire, and then planting a sapling to lower the woo-factor of one particularly pristine location—two tricks to dissuade future hikers from using the same site. LNT did teach us that.

But what would they say about high-trafficked areas, so trampled that reparations seemed futile? “Leave them.” That’s what they said. “Just stack the wood. Collect the litter. Rebuild the fire ring. This is an ideal campsite. Who wouldn’t want to stay here?” They were right. “If we try to hide this dirt patch, folks will create another one 10 feet away, extending the damage. It’s best to make a streamside eyesore as respectable as possible.”

We were learning how to leave some trace.

Five Voices on the Stewardship of Creation

1. In our Stewardship of Creation series at The High Calling, author Dena Dyer writes about Psalm 37 and the multi-generational piece of Texas earth her family continues to improve, where as a child she “learned the value of tending things slowly and deliberately, over decades.” (Read more and subscribe to our Daily Reflections here).

2. Thanks to journalist and friend of The High Calling, Christine Scheller, we also hear from Ari Handel, co-writer of the film Noah, starring Russell Crow. When asked about the unexpected environmental focus in the movie, he says, "That dynamic of a responsibility towards the earth and the creatures within it is something we wanted to explore in the film. It’s completely purposeful, but it’s also completely grounded in Genesis." (Read the interview here.)

3. Responsibility and cultivating require a long-range vision, not the short-sightedness espoused by mega-campfire enthusiasts. Our children’s children must come to mind, even when the work loses its appeal. In his metaphorical piece about canyons, Carving Down, Carving Deep, Paul Miller writes, “Vocation is like this. Sometimes our work moves quickly and it’s exciting. Waterfalls and rapids. Most of the time, it happens slowly, as water seeks opportunity to run, with little noticeable effect….”

4. Whether we’re stewarding creation or careers, neither can become so central that we turn them into more than they were intended to be (a point we tried to remember during our LNT course). After all, the woods aren’t to be displayed in glass cases like “static dioramas in a museum.”

That would be David Foster’s description of certain wilderness preserves. A sustainability fan and expert on edible and medicinal plants, David writes about Shenk’s Ferry in Leave It Better than You Found It. This 40-acre plot is home to industrial plants, a devastating explosion, and the largest native fruit in the country: the smile-inducing, custard-pulped pawpaw. Instead of seeing devastation at Shenk’s Ferry, David sees God’s faithfulness.

5. Fruit-bearing plants and industrial plants. It's like a picture of life as we know it, always mixed, one with the other. Besides, dividing the world into segments often results in valuing one part over another; even one part at the expense of another. Brad Johnson captures this potential danger well in his series installment when he confesses:

“When I see a kid squash an insect on the sidewalk, I don't feel a great pang of sympathy for the bug, because I don't know how it is wired for pain, or what its role in the grand scheme might be. Instead, I feel anxiety for the youth, for what I recognize as my own temptation to dismiss the sublime complexity of nature and to take dominion over it in the worst possible way.”

The Simplicity of Becoming a Master Educator

These five contributors raise good questions, and leave me thinking again of LNT’s approach to living in the world. Minister Creek is a fine example of God’s handiwork. It refuses to be ignored. In fact, beauty is why campers want to be right on top of it. By leaving the place better than it was, we affirmed its beauty, and hopefully inspired the next residents to pay it forward.

Every day, in every location, we leave a trace. The challenge is to leave a trace that matters, whether along the creek bank, or in the office where we jostle for the ideal job—that sweet spot on par with the convergence of streams. How do we do it? We “stack the wood” and “collect the litter.”

Will you throw on a pair of gloves and give me a hand?

“Good will come to those who are generous and lend freely, who conduct their affairs with justice. Surely the righteous will never be shaken; they will be remembered forever” (Psalm 112:5-6).

Additional resources to explore this topic:

• Relevant Magazine on Going Green (for the Right Reasons)
• Acton Institute on Jewish, Catholic, and Protestant Wisdom on Environmental Stewardship
• Craig Goodwin on Year of Plenty. (Read an excerpt at The High Calling)

________________________________________________

Stewardship of Creation

The mission of Leave No Trace is to teach “people how to enjoy the outdoors responsibly.” It’s an ethics program based on protection and preservation. Biblical stewardship of the environment respects this high standard, then takes it a step further—adding propagation to the mix. We’re hardwired to create, so when God told us to work the earth and take care of it, he gave us permission to make beauty out of the basic; to turn raw ingredients into art, science, entertainment, and nourishment. How we do this matters greatly, and it starts with responsibility.

Our Stewardship of Creation series at The High Calling explores how daily decisions can leave the world better than we found it. We hope you’ll join us for the conversation.

​Image by Stuart Gordon. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr.