Where did you learn to swim? For me it was an indoor swimming pool out the back of Westfield Figtree in Wollongong. We lived near the beach, and we spent some school holidays with cousins at Beecroft who had a pool in their back yard, but mastering freestyle, backstroke, and later butterfly in an environment where I was literally out of my depth were challenges I completed at that swimming pool in Wollongong.
I have clear memories of those lessons. Some of them were not pleasant. A lot of water seemed to enter my nose and mouth, and a lot of the time I seemed to be fighting gravity and behaving like a fish without gills. But eventually I received certificates for the challenges I completed, and I have two of them here with me today.
What I did not know until yesterday is that the names at the bottom of both certificates are the chosen names of two former Hungarian athletes, both Olympians—Alex Bory, a European record holder and Eva Bory, a world record holder—who defected from Hungary at the 1956 Olympic Games in Melbourne and applied for political asylum in Australia.
So those certificates are a reminder of how I learned to swim and not sink, to be able to plunge into deep water and stay alive. And they now have added value because they reflect a dark period in European history and remind us of the freedom we enjoy in Australia.[1]
You will recall that, last week, we left the prophet Ezekiel on the riverbank, but he does not remain there. He plunges in—not into a swimming pool but into a great river. At first, the water reaches his ankles; then his knees; then his waist; finally, the river is too deep to cross on foot. At first, Ezekiel can stand securely and control his movement, but the deeper he goes, the more obvious his dependence on resources beyond himself becomes.
As we follow Jesus, we sometimes prefer faith at ankle depth, close enough to refresh us but not deep enough to rattle our independence. As we reflect on this second week of the Season of Creation, I want to suggest that the same may be true of our ecological responsibility. We may recycle, reduce waste, and make modest changes while assuming that the deeper patterns of our life should remain untouched. Yet Ezekiel confidently moves into deeper water.
Creatures not gods
We are creatures. We are not self-sufficient. We depend upon water, air, soil, sunlight, plants, animals and ecological processes we did not create and cannot replace. The deepest truth the river reveals is not primarily environmental but theological.
Modern societies can disguise this dependence because technology makes life appear controllable. Water arrives through taps, food appears on supermarket shelves and electricity comes through walls. Yet the dependence remains. We are created by God and made from matter: fragile, finite creatures.
The English poet Malcolm Guite expresses this creatureliness in “Out in the Elements”:
For I myself am clay that breathes and talks
Articulated earth, I move and pray.[2]
Guite helps us see what Ezekiel’s deep water reveals: we are not detached managers of creation but embodied creatures, formed from the earth and dependent upon the life God gives. For Christian faith, this dependence is not a defect. To be finite is not to fail. Human beings were never intended to be gods.
The language of stewardship drawn from Genesis 1–2 is useful, but it does not say everything about our responsibility for the Earth. It can encourage us to imagine ourselves standing above creation as responsible managers. The deeper biblical truth is that before we are stewards, we are creatures. We care for creation from within it, not from outside it.
The illusion of mastery
Environmental damage does not always result from deliberate wrongdoing. It may arise from ignorance, inherited systems or unintended consequences. Yet ecological harm can also reveal familiar forms of sin: greed, wastefulness, domination and refusal of limits. Ecosystems, elephants, eucalypts and electrons do not sin. People sin.
The biblical word for turning from such patterns is repentance. Repentance does not mean feeling ashamed of being human. It means allowing God to redirect our desires. It asks whether more is always better, whether convenience should determine our choices, and whether human power gives us the right to exhaust what sustains other forms of life.
Australian history provides examples of the danger of failing to understand the places we inhabit. European agricultural and land-use practices were often developed in environments very different from Australia, whose soils, rainfall patterns and river systems did not always conform to imported expectations.
The spiritual lesson is that true wisdom requires us to inhabit the place that actually exists rather than demanding that the material creation conform to our limited vision and political preferences.
Two kinds of dependence
Our physical dependence upon creation is not identical with our spiritual dependence upon God. We require air, food, water and habitat to remain biologically alive. Yet Jesus speaks in John 7:37 of another thirst: “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink,” and the evangelist interprets this living water as a reference to the Holy Spirit (v. 39).
The human problem is deeper than material scarcity. We may enjoy clean water, secure food and a healthy environment while remaining spiritually estranged from God. Ecological wellbeing is a genuine good, but it cannot confer forgiveness, reconciliation or eternal life.
Conversely, spiritual salvation should never become an excuse to diminish physical life. Jesus uses the language of water because bodily dependence can illuminate our deeper dependence upon God.The Christian life begins with receiving. Grace precedes effort as conversion precedes discipleship.
The scale of environmental problems is immense, while individual choices may seem painfully small. Some can afford solar panels, new technologies or expensive alternatives; others cannot. Christian faithfulness should never be reduced to the purchasing power of the affluent. Faithfulness is not ecological purity but responsible participation according to our circumstances.
For one household, that may mean reducing food waste; for another, using less energy or water; for another, taking public transport where it is practical to do so. A congregation might examine its collective energy use, waste profile, garden use, or purchasing practices. Another helpful Christian practice is learning the meaning of enough: not deprivation, but sufficiency; not rejection of every comfort, but resistance to the assumption that abundance means accumulation.
Just as the water in the swimming pool in Wollongong was too deep for me to stand on my own, the river eventually becomes too deep for Ezekiel to stand on his own. Perhaps that is the point. We enter discipleship imagining that faith will make us more secure and self-sufficient. Instead, grace teaches us dependence upon God, one another and the created world that sustains us. I learned the survival skill of swimming, and I carry that skill with me today.
Ecological discipleship
Discipleship is a whole-of-life project in which we follow Jesus one day at a time, one challenge at a time, one victory at a time, until one day faith and hope give way to love, and love becomes all. And we will stand face to face with the real cosmic, human, divine Jesus, who welcomes us into the fullness of eternal life. On that day, our faithfulness—including our Christian responsibilities as creatures in ecosystems—will be assessed by a perfect, wise and merciful judge.
Yet there is a temptation to respect ecological limits while still resisting the deeper dependence of faith. We can become disciplined consumers, thoughtful gardeners and careful stewards while remaining unwilling to acknowledge the reality of God and receive God’s mercy. The ecology of the spirit requires prayer, repentance, reflection on Scripture, engagement in fellowship, communion with the living Jesus, and faithful service in the world.
So let us follow Jesus with our whole lives: receiving grace, learning dependence, loving our neighbours and tending the world God has entrusted to us. We will not do this perfectly, but we can do it prayerfully, and with humility, and in community, trusting God to lead, forgive and sustain us, and to bring forth lasting fruit from our ordinary faithfulness.
Sermon 871 copyright © 2026 Rod Benson. Preached at North Rocks Community Church, Sydney, Australia, on Sunday 13 September 2026. Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are from The Christian Standard Bible (Nashville: Holman Bible Publishers, 2020).
Rev Dr Rod Benson is General Secretary of the NSW Ecumenical Council and a minister of the Uniting Church in Australia serving at North Rocks Community Church in Sydney.
References
[1] The two athletes’ original names were Sándor Záborszky and Éva Pajor.
[2] Malcolm Guite, “Out in the Elements,” in The Singing Bowl (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2013), 17
Image source: Brusna Falls Leisure
Taking it further…
Reflection questions
- How can technology and modern patterns of life create an “illusion of mastery” over the natural world?
- What distinction does the sermon make between our physical dependence on creation and our spiritual dependence on God?
- What does the sermon mean by learning “the meaning of enough,” and how does this challenge common assumptions about abundance, comfort and success?
Application questions
- Identify one area in which convenience, consumption or accumulation has become more important than sufficiency. What realistic change could you make over the next month?
- What could your congregation do collectively to examine its use of energy, water, waste, gardens, purchasing or other resources?
- The sermon speaks of an “ecology of the spirit” involving prayer, repentance, Scripture, fellowship, communion with Christ and service. Which of these practices most needs attention in your life at present, and what could you do about it this week?
All Told 