I hoist the bulging bags of recycling with each hand and head for the front door, the clinking sounds of glass and metal filling the air.
“What a racket,” says my roommate Matt, sprawled out on the sofa watching TV, a Pepsi in one hand, a bag of chips in the other.
“Hey man, open the door, got my hands full.”
He laughs. “Sorry, got my hands full too.” He watches me struggle with the doorknob, then drops the chips and gets up. “Just kidding, bro.”
He opens the door, and I take the bags out to my Jeep. I return for the remaining bag and my keys. As I walk back into the living room, Matt says, “Why do you waste your time with that?”
“With what?”
“Recycling. Why not just throw it away?”
“I’ve always recycled,” I say. “It’s such a waste filling up the dump with stuff that can be reused. Actually, it seems kind of immoral to trash the world, don’t you think?”
“Come on,” Matt scoffs. “We’re in the last days. You know Jesus is coming back anytime, right? It doesn’t matter.”
I shake my head. “You know, people have been saying it’s the end of the world since I was a kid. Ever since Jesus walked the earth, really. God wants us to be good stewards of the earth. Take care of it, not trash it.”
Matt dismisses my words with a wave of his hand. “I just think you’re fighting a losing battle. I’m not recycling when I’ll be leaving in the Rapture at any time. Maybe even today.” Matt starts singing the old hymn with gusto, “When the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there!”
I wait for him to stop, then continue. “Well, maybe it could happen today,” I say, “but what if it doesn’t? I mean, what if it takes another two thousand years? Or what if it already happened, and we missed it? Didn’t Jesus tell his disciples that he would return before they passed away?”
Matt smirks. “Bro, that’s ridiculous. I thought you were a Christian. Look at what’s going on in the world.
“I am a Christian,” I say, “but I’m just asking, what if? Can’t you see the effects of pollution? Climate change? The ice caps melting, the weather getting more extreme, animals going extinct. The science is undeniable.”
Matt shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. Every few years the experts tell us something else is going to destroy the planet. I’m not saying nothing’s changing. I just don’t trust half of what I hear anymore.”
“But I do trust scripture more than anything else. When Jesus comes back, you can have this world, because I won’t be here.”
“I read scripture too,” I say, “but maybe I read it differently than you. Faith won’t clean our oceans, land, and air. Recycling and polluting less will. We can’t just ignore what’s going on.”
“I don’t know that we can fix it,” Matt says. He empties his Pepsi, crumples the can, and hands it to me. “For your recycling.”
“Look, bro, you can spend all your energy recycling if you want, but—”
“Well, thanks for giving me permission.” I chuckle, and Matt does too.
“You’re welcome,” says Matt. “But hey, I’m just not going to worry about something I believe God has already told us won’t last forever. When the trumpet sounds, I’ll be flying through the clouds with the angels.”
“I’m not an authority on ‘end times,’” I say, “but right now I’m living in ‘these times.’”
Matt sighs. “I get it. I’m not saying we should trash the place. I just think people put too much faith in saving the planet. Scripture says this world isn’t permanent.”
“Your faith offers you escape,” I say, “but my faith in God, and my belief in science, compels me to act. If God gave us this beautiful planet, why should we let it go to hell?”
Matt studies me for a long moment. “What?” I say.
“You know what worries me, my friend? Sometimes you sound like you trust science more than you trust God.”
“Well,” I say, “maybe trusting what we see happening to the world is part of trusting God.”
Matt grins. “Maybe. But I trust my faith more than I trust your science.”
I stop. There’s no point. I’m casting my pearls before swine. And immediately, I feel a little guilty for thinking it.
I give him a nod. “Later, man.” I step out the door and close it behind me, bag and keys in hand.
