If you’ve ever found yourself spiraling after yet another “hottest year on record” headline, you’re not alone — and you’re not overreacting.
Climate anxiety is real. It’s not just a trending TikTok diagnosis or a quirky Gen Z trait. It’s a documented psychological response to the existential dread of ecological collapse, and young people — especially those of faith — are feeling it deeply.
A 2021 study published in The Lancet Planetary Health surveyed 10,000 young people across 10 countries. Three-quarters of respondents said they found the future frightening due to climate change, and 45% reported that climate concerns negatively affected their daily lives. Moreover, 58% felt that governments were betraying them through inaction.
In the United States, more than two-thirds of millennials and Gen Z adults say they’re worried about climate change, according to Pew Research. One in four say they’ve felt “very anxious” about it. That dread is even shaping major life choices. According to a 2022 Morning Consult poll, 11% of childless adults cited climate change as a major reason for not having children, and 15% said it played a minor role.
For a generation deeply invested in justice, activism and authentic faith, climate concern isn’t just psychological. It’s theological. But for too long, environmental care has been treated like a niche liberal issue in the American church instead of a core part of what it means to follow Jesus. Scripture doesn’t leave room for that kind of apathy.
Genesis opens with God creating a world of intricate, interconnected beauty — and calling humans to “work it and take care of it” (Genesis 2:15). This isn’t passive ownership. It’s stewardship, and it’s one of the first things God asks of us.
Dr. Sandra Richter, Old Testament scholar and author of Stewards of Eden, puts it plainly: “Creation care is not secondary to the Gospel — it’s embedded in it. We were placed in the garden to serve and protect it, not exploit it.”
Jesus reinforces this ethic, even if he never gave an environmental TED Talk. He retreated to mountains, used seeds and soil to illustrate the kingdom of God, noticed birds and wildflowers and told us to pay attention to them, too. He spoke often about provision, abundance and trust — but he also warned against hoarding, greed and waste. “Life does not consist in an abundance of possessions,” he said in Luke 12:15. That hits differently when you consider that the average American emits 15 tons of carbon dioxide per year — about three times the global average.
Kaitlyn Schiess, author of The Liturgy of Politics, sees a spiritual disconnect at play.
“Western consumerism is in direct conflict with biblical stewardship,” she said. “When we treat the Earth as disposable, we’re discipling ourselves into apathy.”
Which may help explain why so many Christians feel paralyzed when it comes to climate action. There’s a tension between caring deeply and not knowing what to do with that care.
Because once you start paying attention — once you read the headlines, understand the science and feel the weight of the crisis — it’s easy to spiral. Some people shut down completely. Others develop a low-grade panic they can’t shake. And some, especially in Christian circles, just shrug and say, “Well, this world is passing away anyway.”
But Jesus never told us to give up on the world. In fact, he told us to pray for God’s will to be done on Earth as it is in heaven. That’s not escapism. That’s a call to engagement.
Yes, climate change is overwhelming. But despair isn’t a spiritual gift. Faith, hope and love are. We’re still called to be people of hope — even when the planet feels like it’s unraveling.
“Christians have a unique position in this crisis,” said Kyle Meyaard-Schaap, vice president of the Evangelical Environmental Network. “We don’t respond out of fear of the future, but out of faithfulness in the present.”
That means refusing both denial and despair. It means voting with our values. It means rethinking our habits, resisting wastefulness and living in ways that reflect our worship of the Creator, not just our craving for convenience.
And that concern must extend beyond our own eco-footprint. Climate change doesn’t affect everyone equally. The poor, the sick and marginalized communities are often hit first and worst — exactly the people Jesus spent his ministry serving. If our climate concern doesn’t move us toward climate justice, we’re missing the point entirely.
This isn’t about saving the planet just to feel morally superior. It’s about obedience. It’s about love — for our neighbor, for future generations and for the God who made this world and called it good.
As Christians, we don’t act because we’re terrified of the apocalypse. We act because we follow a savior who came to reconcile all things to himself (Colossians 1:20) — including the oceans, forests, skies and cities.
So yes, climate anxiety is real. But Christian hope is real, too. And it doesn’t ignore reality. It faces it with courage, compassion and a willingness to get our hands dirty.
Because the Earth isn’t just worth saving. It’s worth serving.
