One of the most inspiring aspects of my studies in Ecology, Spirituality, and Religion as a PhD student (even at 46, we new students can be inspired!) has been deeply exploring and reflecting on how ancient texts speak directly into our modern ecological context. Although the Hebrew Bible / Old Testament is ancient in his authorship and structures, passages like Isaiah 43 continue to spark deep conversations about our relationship with the land, with animals, and with the Creator.
Merianna and I are still figuring out our church situation after moving back here to Spartanburg this fall. With a hurricane, professional career changes, new schools, new routines, new roads and trails and parks to explore, and this week’s snow storm under our belt, we’ve had quite the process of figuring out which faith community we’re being called to ultimately join. There are many solid contenders and each have their own strengths, connections, histories, and pulls. I don’t want to label this process “chruch shopping” as that seems gross and capitalistic to think of such a prayerful process something akin to picking out new pants or a new car.
This morning we attended The Episcopal Church of the Advent, which is a lovely campus and congregation. There are some familiar faces there from our time in Spartanburg previously as well as Merianna’s cousin who is a Priest there. As a Baptist, I’ve always found Episcopal liturgy beautiful and moving if not something out of a Hollywood movie showing what church should “feel” like in its setting and order of worship (that’s not meant as a slight by any means). Part of the worship this morning included a reading of Isaiah 43, and I was glad to have the chance to make some notes in the bulletin on the connections between my own studies in Religion, Spirituality, and Ecology with that passage and how it “fit” into a service commemorating the Baptism of Jesus by John (also a fellow Baptist who shared my righteous indignation about society in general).
Isaiah 43 is typically read as a promise of deliverance to a weary people and a “nation” of Israel. God is reminding Israel that they have been created, redeemed, and will be guided through fire and water. But there’s an ecological dimension to these verses that also calls us to see more than a metaphor about a “nation” (I use that term loosely as there were no nations as we think of them – or did think of them) or group of people being tested. When we consider Isaiah’s imagery of turning deserts into fertile gardens and making a way in the wilderness, we recognize a God who is intimately involved not just with people’s well-being but with the healing of the land itself.
From an ecotheological perspective, this passage offers hope that God’s plans for restoration isn’t limited to saving souls or guiding humanity alone; it encompasses rivers, deserts, and all of creation. That’s a powerful message today as we wrestle with climate crisis, habitat loss, and the fragility of life on our planet from Hurricane Helene’s devastation here and in our beloved Western North Carolina to the ongoing situation of California’s wildfires
In my Christian tradition, salvation is often taught as a personal or communal experience and is God’s intervention in human affairs for the sake of our redemption (again, we Baptists love to talk about salvation and redemption!). Yet, Isaiah 43 suggests a broader and more holistic narrative. God’s redemptive mission includes making rivers spring forth in parched landscapes, reimagining deserts as places teeming with life. This isn’t just about human salvation and all that it implies such as our species being somehow distinct or alien to our surrounding ecologies.
Where many of us have learned about salvation exclusively as a human-centered event, Isaiah’s words remind us that nature isn’t an afterthought in the Creator’s plan. Humanity and the environment are woven together in this tapestry of divine renewal that can be extended to concepts like our own baptisms. Instead of picturing a future rescue from a doomed earth, this passage hints at a glorious transformation that involves all of the earth itself.
We are, in a very real sense, co-participants with God and the land and sea and rivers and creatures and soil and all things in the ongoing act of creation.
Isaiah 43 aligns beautifully with that perspective. God’s pledge to “do a new thing” signals a broader cosmic renewal. Some theologians see this as a foundational text for talking about ecological hope. If the prophetic imagination envisions deserts blossoming and creation singing for joy, we’re invited, maybe even obligated I dare say, to participate in nurturing that vision. If it’s in the Bible, then it must be true, right? I’m just using my Baptist toolbox here.
Reflecting on Isaiah 43 also invites us to reconsider our responsibility as “stewards” (again, that is a loaded term that needs to be unpacked in a different post) of creation as set forth over and over again in the Old and New Testaments since the beginning in Genesis. If we believe the land is part of God’s redemptive plan, then our everyday actions, how we treat the environment, engage in sustainable living, advocate for just policies and ethical considerations of both the human and non-human, become acts of worship and devotion.
Isaiah’s words, “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (43:19), continues to challenge me. In the face of environmental degradation, such as deforestation, overfishing, or global warming causing actions such as our cars, paving over nature with petroleum products that burn petroleum in the manifest destiny of “progress,” this verse holds out a hopeful expectation. God is still active, still creating pathways in the wilderness, still nourishing deserts into blossoming landscapes (and not just paving over them).
The question then becomes: Do we have the eyes to perceive it? In a world that can feel increasingly cynical about the fate of our planet, Isaiah 43 reminds us to look deeper. Renewal might be slow, but it is happening, and we can either join in or stand by and not fulfill our duty and ethical demands as we so often do (I’m being cynical).
Ultimately, Isaiah 43 offers more than a comforting word to a people in exile. It’s a biblical rallying cry and a still small voice for those of us who believe that spiritual transformation isn’t separate from ecological transformation. The same divine force that wills rivers in the desert also wills flourishing life for the ecosystems we depend upon.
My hope, both as a student of theology fascinated by the Old Testament and as someone immersed in the study of ecology, spirituality, and religion, is that these ancient words continue to point us toward a deeper reverence for creation and a stronger commitment to stewardship. In the grand narrative of redemption, the desert isn’t forgotten. Neither are the forests, nor the oceans, nor the skies. Even the mosquitos and gnats have a part to play.
God’s “new thing” involves all of it, and each of us has a place in that unfolding story.
Isaiah 43
But now thus says the Lord,
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
2 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
3 For I am the Lord your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour.
I give Egypt as your ransom,
Ethiopia* and Seba in exchange for you.
4 Because you are precious in my sight,
and honoured, and I love you,
I give people in return for you,
nations in exchange for your life.
5 Do not fear, for I am with you;
I will bring your offspring from the east,
and from the west I will gather you;
6 I will say to the north, ‘Give them up’,
and to the south, ‘Do not withhold;
bring my sons from far away
and my daughters from the end of the earth—
7 everyone who is called by my name,
whom I created for my glory,
whom I formed and made.’
8 Bring forth the people who are blind, yet have eyes,
who are deaf, yet have ears!
9 Let all the nations gather together,
and let the peoples assemble.
Who among them declared this,
and foretold to us the former things?
Let them bring their witnesses to justify them,
and let them hear and say, ‘It is true.’
10 You are my witnesses, says the Lord,
and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
nor shall there be any after me.
11 I, I am the Lord,
and besides me there is no saviour.
12 I declared and saved and proclaimed,
when there was no strange god among you;
and you are my witnesses, says the Lord.
13 I am God, and also henceforth I am He;
there is no one who can deliver from my hand;
I work and who can hinder it?
14 Thus says the Lord,
your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel:
For your sake I will send to Babylon
and break down all the bars,
and the shouting of the Chaldeans will be turned to lamentation.*
15 I am the Lord, your Holy One,
the Creator of Israel, your King.
16 Thus says the Lord,
who makes a way in the sea,
a path in the mighty waters,
17 who brings out chariot and horse,
army and warrior;
they lie down, they cannot rise,
they are extinguished, quenched like a wick:
18 Do not remember the former things,
or consider the things of old.
19 I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
20 The wild animals will honour me,
the jackals and the ostriches;
for I give water in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert,
to give drink to my chosen people,
21 the people whom I formed for myself
so that they might declare my praise.
22 Yet you did not call upon me, O Jacob;
but you have been weary of me, O Israel!
23 You have not brought me your sheep for burnt-offerings,
or honoured me with your sacrifices.
I have not burdened you with offerings,
or wearied you with frankincense.
24 You have not bought me sweet cane with money,
or satisfied me with the fat of your sacrifices.
But you have burdened me with your sins;
you have wearied me with your iniquities.
