Conservation Certificate Cohort 1

Conservation Certificate Cohort 1: The Experience

Picture of Sylvia Muia

Sylvia Muia

Conservation Certificate Cohort 1: The Experience

Almost a year since its launch, the Conservation Certificate’s first cohort will graduate by the end of July. Read about their transformational experiences

Almost one year ago, A Rocha International launched the Conservation Certificate with the first cohort of 15 students coming from 10 countries in Africa, Asia, Europe, North and Central America and Oceania. Created to honour the memory of Chris Naylor (former Executive Director of A Rocha International & founder of A Rocha Lebanon), his wife Susanna Naylor (co-founder of A Rocha Lebanon) and Miranda Harris (A Rocha co-founder, the certificate equips young leaders in conservation to be hopeful and effective conservationists.  
 
In this blog post, students share their experiences of how the certificate has transformed their minds and lives. 

1. The course has been attended by students from different parts of the globe with different cultures and challenges.  What have you learnt from your fellow participants? 

People working in conservation do so many different jobs. From communications to administration to housekeeping to science, they all work towards caring for creation in all the ways they contribute. I initially only thought that scientists’ work mattered in conservation but the certificate changed how I viewed that. It made me realize that the work I do still has an impact in conservation through the storytelling that reaches many people through the A Rocha website, social media and publications. Sylvia Muia (Kenya) 

For me, I live in a rural setting and I’ve been amazed by all the creation care efforts coming out of Hong kong for example. A context that is so vastly different from my own but I’ve been really encouraged by all the examples of God’s creation there and the people working with it. But then also to realise that we have so much in common, in our faith, in our passion for creation and in our struggles and difficulties have been encouraging as well. Jacob Ämterlind (Sweden) 

I have loved experiencing creation through the eyes of my fellow participants. Our Awe and Wonder channel on Slack has been such a beautiful space for sharing. I have loved seeing different parts of the world throughout the year. Species that I have never seen before, and climates I am yet to experience (others in snow while I am in summer!). Seeing how we are all in awe of God’s beautiful creation has deepened a sense of hope and joy for our future. Knowing that it isn’t just me and my friends at the bottom of the world who care, has been a deep source of hope. Millie Vette (New Zealand) 

  

2. How has the course transformed you in your personal life and has it changed how you view God’s creation? 

I always enjoyed being part of nature, especially when I take walks in the forest. Now I get to appreciate every part of creation including human beings and their innovations. I have begun to notice little things more. The sand that turned into stone that was turned into a house. The water that was turned into electricity that lights up the night. The darkness that allows us to see the stars at night even though I used to be terrified of it. Every little thing has a purpose. Even the mosquito and cockroach but I am still debating those two. Only God knows. Sylvia Muia (Kenya) 

“the work I do still has an impact in conservation through storytelling”

3. Has the course helped you professionally within the roles you are in working for A Rocha?  

Yeah, it’s been great. It has given me so many new thoughts and ideas. Both for practical conservation and for organisational development. If I have to pick something, I’d highlight the sessions on how to set up a project, which was very hands on but also the sessions on advocacy and community engagement was really fascinating and encouraged me to be more proactive, I’d say, in involvement with authorities for example. Jacob Ämterlind (Sweden) 

I am the regional coordinator for the upper North Island for the Eco Church project here in Aotearoa, New Zealand. I spend a lot of time with churches, talking about the importance of creation care and how important it is to the life of the church. The Conservation Certificate has deepened and expanded how I communicate and support churches in my work. This has been through the different readings we have had and hearing from the experiences of our teachers that this learning has happened. Millie Vette (New Zealand)  

As a communications coordinator, there is a lot of content and information about A Rocha that I send to our audiences that requires me to have a greater understanding of creation care theology. I am now able to explain what we mean when we say God has commanded us to care for creation. It isn’t a concept that we are creating from thin air but a command that is in the Bible that has evidence. Sylvia Muia (Kenya)

4. Spiritually, has the course affirmed/challenged your belief about God’s call to steward and care for his creation?  

Yes, definitely. And also affirmed my belief that God is working through A Rocha in a very special way. The many, many stories and examples from around the world that we’ve been listening to is really encouraging. And you can clearly see God’s hand at work there. And the diversity of speakers has been great as well. I feel like there’s a change coming, God is calling people from all over the world to wake up and challenge the ecological crisis head on. And that is giving me a lot of hope, both for the future of A Rocha but also for the church as an agent for change. And we need hope, don’t we. Desperately so. Jacob Ämterlind (Sweden)

“The Conservation Certificate has deepened and expanded how I communicate and support churches in my work”

5. Do you lead in any capacity ie a team, or a group of volunteers etc.  Has the course helped your leadership skills? 

I am not necessarily in a leadership position but in a position expected to inspire others. I train and support A Rocha comms personnel from more than 25 countries. The course has helped me learn to recognize that we all come from different cultures with different personalities. Someone being different from you can be challenging but it is a learning moment that can help build a meaningful professional connection. Sometimes, there could be surprising similarities but it is exciting to discover more than what you are used to. Sylvia Muia (Kenya) 

6. Conservation work can be demanding, pressurised and also depressing in the face of climate change and global biodiversity collapse – has the course equipped you to cope with the hard times and given you a road map of hopefulness? 

Conservation work can be a heavy burden, especially when the expectation is that humans need to fix what they have ruined. The course has been a helpful reminder as to why Christian conservationists play an important role in inspiring others to have hope. It is not a burden for us to carry but the Lord who still loves and cares for creation. It is such a relief and a great reminder that God is still the creator. Sylvia Muia (Kenya)

Picture of Sylvia Muia

Sylvia Muia

Based in the bustling Nairobi city, Sylvia connects A Rocha to the world through creative writing and social media posts. Sylvia is a trained journalist and has a degree in Corporate Communications and Management. Sometimes, she can be spotted knitting, painting or baking cottage pies if she is not catching up on her favourite show.

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Forty years of experiencing biodiversity and beauty in the Florida Keys, USA

Picture of Robert Sluka

Robert Sluka

Forty years of experiencing biodiversity and beauty in the Florida Keys, USA

Where faith, science and coral reefs meet.

Reflecting on decades of diving in the Florida Keys, this article explores how science and theology can work together to reveal the beauty, value and purpose of creation. Through the lens of marine conservation, it considers how protected areas not only safeguard biodiversity but also help us encounter the Creator and rediscover our responsibility to care for the oceans.

My first visit to the Florida Keys happened 40 years ago. Growing up far from the ocean, I nonetheless decided I wanted to SCUBA dive. Passing my course in a quarry meant cold water and few creatures. But I was breathing underwater. My family went to Florida every few years and this year we were to visit an area near the largest coral reef in the mainland USA. The warm water, beautiful creatures, and delight of being underwater amidst those reefs and their inhabitants was part of the reason I chose to study marine biology. 

I didn’t know any scientific words or concepts to describe the experience of diving in the Keys as a 15-year-old. My training in marine biology at University of Miami including an eventual Ph.D. in coral reef fish ecology certainly did. While not couched in words like beauty, I learned to describe coral reefs truthfully – or at least as close to the truth as we could come given our humanity, bias, and otherness. Transects were set to record the number of fish along a certain length and breadth and then compared statistically to find differences in fish density, diversity and size among coral reefs. Marine Protected Areas began to be developed and studied showing that with protection from fishing, a coral reef which was once impoverished biologically could be restored at least to what we knew a reef to be. The Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary was established to provide protection to these reefs recognizing the negative human impacts on biodiversity. 

"One of the important lessons I have learned about noticing beauty and relating it to my faith is to develop a specific vocabulary."

The beauty of these reefs still drew me in and enthralled me. Seeing a rare species or a big shark on a dive drew exclamations of awe and wonder (possibly some bragging) once we returned to the surface. It was not a bad way to learn and develop a career diving amongst this beauty both above and below the surface. Yet I still lacked a religious vocabulary to describe the spiritual and ethical value of my research and passion for coral reefs. Despite growing up in a religious home and attending church regularly, I don’t remember anyone helping me to make sense of the beauty I was experiencing. It was as if what I did in the water had nothing to do with my faith. I am sure that I was taught about a Creator God who made the seas and all that was in them. But this didn’t seem to have any application to my vocation. The beauty pointed to a creative God, but now that there was a Book about that God, it was no longer necessary to involve His creation in any part of my faith. Diving and science was just that – diving and science. 

One of the important lessons I have learned about noticing beauty and relating it to my faith is to develop a specific vocabulary. In the same way there are precise scientific words to describe biodiversity, there are theological words that describe one’s experience in creation. This last word is an example; for me, it doesn’t refer to a way of making, but acknowledges the fact that there is a Creator. In the same way, referring to a beautiful fish that I see as a creature, reminds me of theological concepts such as my own creatureliness. Or at times referring to that same fish as a neighbor reminds me of Jesus’ command to love our neighbor and helps me to pause and reflect about that creature and its context. This often has to be intentional and learned. I have had to read widely and deeply on these types of topics and practice using a different vocabulary. 

"Science and faith not only happily coexist but amplify each other for the common good.”

We recently moved back to Florida after considerable time abroad. During our absence, my faith had been transformed particularly through my involvement with A Rocha. My children are now young adults and all SCUBA certified. Recent trips to the Florida Keys carrying scientific and faith language allowed me to see anew the beauty of that place. It also allowed me to experience that beauty through another’s eyes. My children didn’t see the Florida Keys as I did as a young adult, but they still saw the beauty that was there. My scientific mind went through the conservation threats and successes. Arguably, these coral reefs were no longer made of much coral with coral cover declining well below a few percent in many places. Yet I saw many old friends including more goliath groupers (Epinephelus itajara) on one dive than in hundreds as a graduate student – results of strong protection and a National Marine Sanctuary actively managing the area. 

I saw the reefs, my experience, and the time with my children through a different lens of faith – one which now intentionally sought to integrate scientific truth with a spiritual, ethical and moral vocabulary and conceptual framework. These were fellow creatures who in their own way were giving praise and glory to their Maker. 

Marine Protected Areas (MPAs), such as the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary, are important places to see and experience scientific and religious beauty. They are places where we can see the ocean as it could be as they are protected from many human impacts. This provides scientific truth to help us to understand and appreciate many types of beauty. That of provisioning for humans outside of MPAs, testing hypotheses about how systems are supposed to work, and awe and wonder of abundance and diversity. Intentional reflection and active engagement in religious practice in and with these places of beauty connect us to their Creator. International goals such as protecting 30% of the ocean by 2030 thus become not only scientific truth-seeking ventures, but religious experiences of promoting and protecting beauty. In these places, we find that science and faith not only happily coexist but amplify each other for the common good and a more beautiful planet. 

Picture of Robert Sluka

Robert Sluka

Robert D Sluka, Ph.D. leads A Rocha’s Marine Conservation Programme. He is a curious explorer, applying hopeful, optimistic and holistic solutions to all that is ailing our oceans and the communities that rely on them. Robert’s research focuses on marine biodiversity conservation, plastic pollution, and fisheries, particularly marine protected areas. The ultimate goal is to glorify God through oceans and communities being transformed using holistic marine conservation.

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Unlikely partners

Picture of Peter Harris

Peter Harris

Unlikely partners

A personal view of the collaboration between finance and nature.

 

This reflection explores whether finance and nature conservation are truly in conflict, or whether they can work together to address today’s environmental crises. Drawing on the history of environmentalism, modern economics and Christian theology, it considers how systems built around profit have often neglected nature – and how new models might better value both people and planet. It asks what it would take to build a truly regenerative economy grounded in stewardship, justice and the flourishing of all creation.

Key ideas 

  • Modern environmentalism emerged partly in opposition to industrial capitalism, highlighting how profit-driven business practices and chemical-intensive industries were damaging both people and the natural world.
  • Over time, finance became increasingly focused on maximising shareholder profit above all else, often ignoring environmental and social costs. This led to economic systems that treated nature as an “externality” rather than something essential to human flourishing.
  • The article argues that environmental movements have sometimes framed business and finance as enemies of nature, but meaningful ecological change requires collaboration with investors, companies, and economic leaders
  • Although ideas like carbon credits and biodiversity markets attempt to account for environmental damage, truly regenerative economic systems remain underdeveloped, and many current financial approaches still fail to protect nature at scale.
  • From a Christian perspective, the article makes the argument that human flourishing and care for creation should not be seen as competing goals. Biblical ideas such as shalom, long-term stewardship, generosity, and “the community of creation” point toward economic models that value both people and the wider living world together.

"Are the two worlds of finance and nature conservation mutually exclusive or, in these crisis times, are there new possibilities for a fruitful collaboration?"

Are the two worlds of finance and nature conservation mutually exclusive or, in these crisis times, are there new possibilities for a fruitful collaboration? If so, some history on both sides needs to be acknowledged.

When the modern environmental movement began in the 1960s it followed a text-book tactic: name your enemy to gather your friends. Among others, Rachel Carson’s pioneering work and her influential book Silent Spring, first published in 1962, made it clear that the rapid growth of big business had effectively been poisoning the world. Pharmaceutical companies which had been involved in weapons production during the second world war period pivoted to manufacturing the key ingredients for the new weapons needed for the industrialisation of agriculture. DDT [i] was one of the first products to be identified as particularly harmful but over following decades the dangers to human health and the wider environment of increasing numbers of chemical compounds became more than obvious. The pollution that rapidly growing industries were visiting upon the world began to percolate into popular awareness, and that was before a realisation of their contribution to climate change had begun to be better understood.

Meanwhile, influenced by neo-classic economists such as Milton Friedman [ii], both industry and its investors were becoming increasingly focussed on financial return as the single metric of success.  Friedman introduced his theory in a 1970 essay for The New York Times titled “A Friedman Doctrine: The Social Responsibility of Business is to Increase Its Profits” [iii] arguing that a company has no social responsibility to the public or society; its only responsibility is to its shareholders. He did introduce the caveat that serving the shareholder was to be done ‘within the bounds of law and ethical custom’ but one could argue that the damage was done. In a political context of de-regulation, other considerations of wider values that encompassed more comprehensive understandings of the social and environmental vocation of business were abandoned.

“Furthermore, one of the bigger failures of the market... was its inability to value nature or to price in the cost of environmental degradation."

The emergence of more powerful communications media meant that public relations criteria pushed further towards brand protection rather than substance when it came to investing. The markets demanded a straightforward calculation of ‘money in and money out’ whether the medium for growth between the two was the planet or people. To satisfy those demands complex financial instruments were designed that simply used finance to create finance with ever more ephemeral products. Rapid globalisation of trade and events such as the subprime mortgage crisis of 2008 both created a context and demonstrated finance’s increasing detachment from the economy of the real world, accelerating a process that had its origins as far back as the beginning of the industrial age. Furthermore, one of the bigger failures of the market, even on its own terms, was its inability to value nature or to price in the cost of environmental degradation.

So it was not surprising that those who could not regard the physical world around them as merely an externality, or a necessary casualty for a closed financial system, became hostile to those who were responsible for creating the trading system itself. The narrative of the emerging environmental organisations and their conservation partners was “You may be wrecking the world, but we will save it.” In their influential and controversial 2004 essay “The Death of Environmentalism” [iv] Michael Shellenberger and Ted Nordhaus characterised that messaging as fatally flawed, asserting that it had restricted environmental concern to a largely wealthy constituency. They posited that the very change makers who needed to re-imagine economic activity as a force for care of ‘the earth and all that lives on it’ as Psalm 24:1 has it, were excluded from the conversation and treated as enemies. However, financial and industrial leaders were precisely those whose engagement was needed if any systemic change was to come about. Rather than those changes being the business of the green brigade who would then live off philanthropic scraps from the corporate table, or merely the result of consumer pressure dragging reluctant industrialists towards ‘sustainability’, a comprehensive effort was necessary that would involve every actor in shaping the world of human endeavour.

Recent times have seen a far greater understanding of the inevitable relationships within the human economy that must all flourish if nature is to survive [v]. The data of destruction and decline and its impacts is unarguable and is evidenced not least in the plight of the insurance industry. Even so, it is only to a far lesser extent – if the deployment of investment capital in both private and public sector is to be believed – that there is a growing understanding of all the natural relationships that must be maintained if human flourishing is to be achieved. In that regard, the money tells the story which is that we are very far from discovering how financial investment can prosper at scale without depleting or damaging nature [vi]. The emergence of carbon and more recently bio-diversity credits has seemed to some to at least have the advantage of recognising the costs to planet and people of our current way of financial and industrial life. But both the methodologies and the metrics remain contentious at best while to their critics they are merely an exercise in smoke and mirrors or ‘voodoo economics’. [vii] So it could be said that for now the possibilities and aspirations of a truly regenerative economic system remain unrealised.

Recent times have seen a far greater understanding of the inevitable relationships within the human economy that must all flourish if nature is to survive."

So how might a Christian perspective be found amid these competing claims and voices?

Firstly, Scripture maintains that the flourishing of people and nature should be possible even in a fallen world. It should never be a zero-sum game where human communities and the web of life that sustains them are set against each other as irreconcilable enemies. The idea of Shalom or comprehensive peace, as envisioned by Old Testament prophets such Isaiah and Jeremiah, is one in which both are blessed. While we wait for the Kingdom of God it is incumbent upon us to work within its commitments and to expect to see signs of its coming even in such times of distress. The orientation of the Kingdom is not intended to be merely aspirational but practical.

Secondly, because the biblical analysis is that the world is broken, the work of reconciling the apparently competing needs and interests of people and the wider creation will never come naturally nor be easy to achieve. However, if those who are creating wealth continue take an adversarial approach towards nature and, as for the most part they are currently doing,[viii] [ix] run blindly towards and beyond the real limits which are intrinsic to our finite planetary life, then current catastrophes will amplify towards increasingly disastrous outcomes [x].

Finally, and I am grateful to Nina de Souza Jensen for these insights, one of the major issues in reconciling financial and ecological perspectives is the issue of time. The former, with the exception of pension funds and sovereign wealth management, operates overwhelmingly on short-term perspectives and returns. However ecological time frames are necessarily long-term. So those who embark on investment over extended time frames such as forest restoration or tackling plastic pollution will need to be generous, and to acknowledge that they are not in control. Both are qualities that are inherent to the Christian view of the world and so can give inspiration to those who endeavour to deploy capital faithfully.

"The orientation of the Kingdom is not intended to be merely aspirational but practical."

While considering Christian approaches we have to admit that many efforts which seek to align biblical values with investment neglect to consider what the theologian Richard Bauckham has called ‘the community of creation’ [xi] and are instinctively anthropocentric. Traditional interpretations of Scripture over recent centuries in the western world have been highly influenced by the individual and deeply personal perspectives of successive cultural movements from the Renaissance onwards. All that is relevant for people has been exclusively highlighted at the cost of the more biblical, creational framing which gives human existence its dignity and its meaning. There is no doubt that the global church has a way to go before it becomes second nature for us to consider creation when designing outcomes of blessing.

For these and many other reasons A Rocha has been exploring how investment might be applied to some of the really difficult situations we are seeking to address around the world and we invite anyone reading this to be in touch if they feel they wish to be involved. So far we have launched modest efforts in consultancy and aligned eco-tourism but long to scale up further. And we applaud organisations such as North Star Transition and one of their founders Jyoti Banerjee who is exploring creative and collaborative ways forward inspired by their Christian faith. He and North Star understand that in a created reality everything must inevitably be connected to everything else and so take an intentionally systemic approach. They practice hope that even the most entrenched opponents may come to realise that enduring solutions can only found with the engagement of everyone involved. Most of all they and everyone who is working in this kind of way now need examples at scale of true economic growth measured by criteria that include the wellbeing of every element in the God-given creation that we hold in trust.

References

[i] Dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane, a synthetic organochlorine insecticide developed in the 1940s

[ii] Milton Friedman (1912-2006) from the Chicago School of Economics

[iii] Read about The Friedman Doctrine of businesses.

[iv] Read about The death of environmentalism.

[v] Among others Pavan Suhkdev’s work on The Economics of Ecosystems and Biodiversity (TEEB) was an early attempt to get some of these externalities onto balance sheets.

[vi] Read the UN State of Finance for Nature

[vii] The principal problem with carbon trading is the logic: in order to grow the offsetting at scale there need to be greater emissions. The problem with biodiversity credits is fungibility: can there really be an equivalence between what is lost in one place and what might be added in another.

[viii] Read how businesses face extinction unless addressing nature.

[ix] Read about ipbes.

[x] Read about planetary boundaries.

[xi] Richard Bauckham The Bible and Ecology Darton, Longman and Todd 2010

Picture of Peter Harris

Peter Harris

Peter and his late wife Miranda founded A Rocha, a family of conservation organizations in over 20 countries working together to live out God's calling to care for creation, in 1983. The A Rocha story is told in Peter’s books, Under the Bright Wings and Kingfisher’s Fire. A Cambridge graduate and Anglican minister, Peter has served as Adjunct Faculty at Regent College, Vancouver and Au Sable Institute, Michigan. Since losing Miranda in a car accident during a work trip in South Africa in 2019 he has continued to support the growth of A Rocha around the world and to explore possibilities for innovative financing of conservation projects through investment and philanthropy.

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Anchored to the rock

Federica Marsi

Anchored to the rock

An A Rocha story of redemption.

A journey from loss, loneliness, and doubt to faith, belonging, and hope through discovering community and the unexpected anchor of Christ.

I first reached the white sandy beaches of A Rocha Kenya feeling like a shipwrecked person –looking for firm land under my feet and something to quench the thirst.  

Then, in February 2021, my life had just been through a year-long storm.  

A long-term relationship collapsed under a pile of half-truths and deceits, just as the global pandemic confined me into an empty apartment in Milan, Italy. 

With travels suspended, my freelance journalistic work in the Middle East ground to a halt. In the first days of the pandemic, when northern Italy replaced China as the epicentre of the outbreak, I went out reporting from overwhelmed intensive care units and improvised field hospitals.  

But in a few weeks’ time, the news cycle had moved on and newspapers started slashing budgets amid global economic uncertainty. As work dried out, loneliness crept in. So did self-doubt, and shame for my 34-year-old single, unemployed self.  

One year into my solo lockdown, I resolved to find myself a lifeline. I will never be able to piece together how I came to book a one-way ticket to Nairobi in the midst of a pandemic, beyond that I was craving nature and had come across a documentary on Kenyan wildlife.  

"One year into my solo lockdown, I resolved to find myself a lifeline."

Upon arrival, I signed up for a safari and then set out to explore the country all the way to the coast. On a booking website, I spotted an accommodation advertised as a “Christian conservation centre”. Nature conservation work sounded just right for me, but the Christian part made me hesitate. I certainly did not want to risk my sunset beer.  

I resolved to stay only three nights. But as I was given a brief tour of the environmental field study centre at A Rocha Kenya – or as Kenyans call it, “Mwamba” – I had a strong feeling of being in the right place. Such foreboding does not go unnoticed when you’re someone who second-guesses every decision, so I asked if I could stay as a volunteer.  

Community life came as a gulp of water. Gathered around the same table were people from the four corners of the world whose love for nature made any land their home. Over a shared meal, I would learn about the resilience of pocket-sized birds as they fly intercontinental for thousands of kilometres or learn what turns bright-coloured corals a pale, ghostly white. Most of all, I relished in the shared sense of purpose, the awe-fillness of every discovery, the selflessness with which everyone offered to wash my dishes, and each and every soul-nurturing word of kindness.

Among them was Amanda, a British woman about my age who was volunteering alongside her husband. We had little in common and our interactions remained sparse and polite, until the day I noticed her sitting alone, visibly flustered.

Tears ran down her face as she confided in me that her marriage was falling apart. The storm of sorrow and grief that roiled inside her felt all too familiar.

"At A Rocha, I had hoped to find myself but found much more."

But something was oddly different in her turmoil. I sensed no self-deprecation, guilt or shame. Albeit disoriented, she had what struck me as an unrelenting hope for the future.

Her anchor in the storm, she said, was the God of Christianity, and I — rather mercilessly — proceeded to question her belief system from what I considered to be a rational standpoint.  

Whenever she didn’t have an answer — or, perhaps, was running short of her bountiful patience — she would simply reply: “that’s a good question, why don’t you go and look it up?’ And so I went down the rabbit hole of research, as fast as only a journalist can.  

Three months in, on one of my last days at A Rocha Kenya, I received the news that my grandmother had died. As I mourned, I joined the service held by Colin Jackson, the founder of A Rocha Kenya.  

Colin stayed behind at the end of the gathering to listen to me as I wrestled with my doubts on life after death, on good and evil, on my own existence — and, ultimately, the existence of God.  

He shared his own life-shattering sorrows and how God had walked with him through them. It was there, as he spoke words of truth on a rooftop overlooking the sea, that the veil dropped and I came to believe.  

At A Rocha, I had hoped to find myself but found much more.  

I found a community, which I have been back to visit twice. Once, in 2023, with Amanda, who baptised me in the Indian Ocean alongside Colin. The second in 2025, shortly after marrying the love of my life, Giuseppe.  

Most importantly, I came to know Jesus, to know I am loved, and that I am enough. He’s been my anchor ever since.  

Federica Marsi

Federica is a news producer with Al Jezeera and a journalist covering migration and environmental issues.

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Glimpsing the sacred in wonder

Picture of David Gregory

David Gregory

Glimpsing the sacred in wonder

Playfulness and communion.

An invitation to deeper attentiveness: exploring how science, faith, and the natural world reveal wonder, humility, and responsibility – calling us to live with care, gratitude, and hope within Earth’s fragile, interconnected community of life.

Cycling along a stream that runs through the parkland and forest of Milton Keynes, the UK city where I live, I came to an abrupt halt. Something wonderous had caught my attention. A Kingfisher sitting on the branch of a tree. Still, attentive, hanging over the waters. Stillness and attentiveness that connected us. A sacred moment, all too quickly over as perhaps are all sacred moments. A flash of blue glinting in the sunshine, it swooped fast and low over the stream, quickly lost to my view among the trees.

The Kingfisher is well named, capturing its behaviour and vibrant splendour. In the Bible God invites Adam to be attentive to the natural world. Bringing the animals before him ‘to see what he would name them’ (Genesis 1:19). Attentiveness connects humans with the Creator and a wonderous world that God declares good. 

Humans have deepened their attentiveness to the world around them through God’s gift of science. New windows have been opened to the splendour of the cosmos, near and far, large and small; of the beauty and complexity of life among which we live – beyond Adam’s knowing, even beyond our naming. Attentiveness evokes a louder, deeper ‘wow’ that responds to the wonderous garden that the Earth is: a good place, with a just right atmosphere and just the right temperature, just the right magnetic field and moon; interweaving factors allowing life in its splendour to flourish through the long journey of the Earth. The imaginative creativity of human science meets that of the divine artist, giving glimpses of the signs of God’s grace through the wonder of it all. Leading to humility?  And gratitude? 

Attentiveness connects humans with the Creator and a wonderous world that God declares good.

Today through God’s gift of science, we see the wonderous diversity of life in wider, deeper ways than our ancestors did, inviting us to encounter divine purpose and shaping of the world as we understand the role evolution has played in bringing the world to be. In the Bible, a troubled man, Job, is taken by the God on a tour of the wonders of the natural world. Just as we are awed by the stunning images of nature documentaries, he too was captivated. Yet is our response the same as his?  For at the end, Job declares, ‘My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you’ (Job 42:5). Our view is wider, deeper, higher, broader. Yet can the same be said of our attentiveness. Our thankfulness? 

The world in which we live, and the life we share it with is shaped by God through the life of the Son of God, Jesus. ‘For in him all things were created … created through him and for him … in him all things hold together’ (Colossians 1:16,17). The beauty and glory of nature hints at this divine shaping. But what of the brokenness and loss seen in the long tragedy of life, remembered as fossils that reveal equally wonderous ages now long past? We still find and experience pain alongside beauty in our world. For while the Kingfisher is well named for its splendour, what would the fish in the stream name it?   

Beyond beauty, perhaps God is glimpsed within the loss and hope of it all. In the catastrophe of mass extinctions, life falls yet rises again in new and imaginative forms. This is a story of life held long in hope by the pattern of Easter. Death and resurrection, revealing the love of God for the world within its chaotic dance between order and disorder; his deep sharing in its suffering, his continual creative Spirit at work bringing it towards life and hope.  

Into the dance of the world, stepped the one who gives it life. Jesus, the divine, became ‘flesh and made his dwelling among us’ (John 1:14). Affirming the value of all forms of life, each part uniquely expresses God’s creative imagination, fitting within his purpose in ways that we do and do not perceive, affirming One from among the vast menagerie of life – One whose creativity, expressed in many ways including science, reflects that of the Creator. Jesus sees our world and the cosmos more fully and deeply than our satellites and scientific instruments allow. Yet he comes and sees the wonder of life through our eyes so that we might see it through his.  

"Beyond beauty, perhaps God is glimpsed within the loss and hope of it all."

Jesus lived as one of us, a sign of the connection between the divine and all that is living, the divine being attentive to that which is created in a new way and inviting us to attentiveness and to our part in the purposes of God. Too often we attend to our needs and security before those of our neighbours’, ahead of the community of life with whom we share the Earth.  

Too often we use our science and technical abilities to take for ourselves rather than delight over the divine wonder they reveal. In the Bible, humans were expelled from the Forest of Eden by their own folly. Now, by our continued folly, we expel others too. Long ago we named ‘the birds of the air and all the beasts of the field’ (Gen 2:20). But how might the animals name us in the world we are creating? 

The Bible’s story ends with a ‘river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing … down the middle of the street of the city’ (Rev 22:1,2). As future generations pause by the stream winding through my city, will they have a chance to be attentive to the Kingfisher, a sign of the wonderful creativity of God in which our, and all life on Earth, is woven? Held in hope by God through falling and rising, it faces death yet is pulled towards fulness of life through divine presence: ‘When you send your Spirit they are created, and you renew the face of the Earth’ (Psalm 104:30).  

That same Spirit is at work in our lives, inviting us to share with God in bringing hope to people and the community of life with whom we share the Earth. Turning from lives that increase the disorder of the world, let’s live in ways that collaborate with the Creator to bring peace to the Earth. Now. And for the future. 

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David Gregory

David is a Baptist minister with a background in meteorology and climate science. He serves as Baptist Missioner for Science and Environment and convenes the Baptist Union Environment Network. His recent book, Divine Windows – Seeing God through the lens of science, was published by the Bible Reading Fellowship in July 2025 (https://www.brfresources.org.uk/) and explores how God might be glimpsed in the imagery of science through themes of wonder, play and communion. He is also the writer and presenter of the four-part film series ‘God Saw That It Was Good’ (www.gstiwg.co.uk), soon to be shown on the TBN UK TV channel. The blog was adapted from the last episode, ‘Life’.

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From inherited faith to living hope

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Sylvia Muia

From inherited faith to living hope

Rediscovering faith and wonder through creation.

A reflection on moving from inherited belief to lived faith—finding resilience, purpose, and hope through Christ, and rediscovering creation not as a source of anxiety, but as a place of wonder, presence, and renewed trust in God.

For a long time, being a Christian was more of an identity chosen for me by default, having been born into a Christian family. You start with Sunday school, learn Bible songs, graduate to teens’ church and eventually reach adulthood. It is then, I think, that the real question pops up: Why am I a Christian? 

For me, it all came back to how my relationship with Christ held me through some of the toughest parts of life – unemployment, brokenness, heartbreak and illness. Through it all, He was there. Even in the darkest moments, there was joy, as Psalm 16:11 (NIV) says:
‘You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.’ 

Living in a secular world made this connection deeply relevant and kept me sane practically, but it became much deeper once I began working with A Rocha. It felt like I had been walking through life zoomed in, only seeing what was right in front of me. I cared about the environment, but I had never fully regarded it as God’s creation – never fully zoomed out to recognize the hand of the Creator in every boulder and lake, each curved into its unique shape. 

When I worked as an environmental journalist, attending meetings and reading scientific reports, my mind was constantly crippled with anxiety, wondering what we would do once the climate clock ran out. It was a never-ending cycle of bad news. Most of the time, I would look at nature and immediately pick out what was going wrong, becoming a very negative environmentalist. 

Nature is calming and beautiful, and it has always been one of the places where I felt closer to God – but my anger blinded me from appreciating it fully. 

Nature... has always been one of the places where I felt closer to God - but my anger blinded me from appreciating it fully.

I recently finished my first year at A Rocha, and I am happy to say that this worry no longer looms over my head. One of the greatest lessons I learned early on was that we cannot care for the world without involving the Creator. Being reminded that the world is God’s, and everything in it, helped lift a burden that had been crushing me. What a relief!

I also have the privilege of being part of the first cohort of the A Rocha Conservation Certificate, alongside amazing people from all over the world – those actively caring for creation and others simply curious about it. One of the theology-based modules explored how God is not only the Creator of the world, but also deeply present within it. In pre-colonial times, many Indigenous communities in Africa and Latin America respected nature and its elements so deeply because of how they reflected God. 

Our first encounter with God is through creation, as Romans 1:20 reminds us:
‘For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.’ 

One of my favourite parts of the Conservation Certificate is the weekly awe and wonder time, where people share both the glorious and wondrous, and the destructive and terrifying parts of creation they experience, whether in New Zealand or Hong Kong or elsewhere. In all of it, we are drawn back to look up to the Creator in reverence and worship, continually amazed by the wonders he orchestrates. 

 

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Sylvia Muia

Based in the bustling Nairobi city, Sylvia connects A Rocha to the world through creative writing and social media posts. Sylvia is a trained journalist and has a degree in Corporate Communications and Management. Sometimes, she can be spotted knitting, painting or baking cottage pies if she is not catching up on her favourite show.

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Advent: The drama of light and darkness

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Debbie Wright

Advent: The drama of light and darkness

How the light of salvation overcomes darkness.

A reflection on Advent as a season of light in darkness – exploring how hope in Christ transcends place and season, inviting us into active waiting, renewed life, and a deeper awareness of God revealed through creation.

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” – Isaiah 9:2

These words from the prophet Isaiah resonate so much with us during the season of Advent. It is a treasured verse that points to Jesus as our great light who overcomes darkness in its many guises. 

I write this in London as our planet wings its way to the winter solstice on 21 December and to our shortest day of light – Advent and the promise of Jesus’s return brings comfort and symbolises a longing and hope within us.  We light candles, put up fairy lights, arrange Christmas walking trails – and take in the twinkly wonder of displays adorning trees and buildings and shop windows. In other parts of the world Christmas comes at the height of summer and Advent is bathed in sunshine.  

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.” These words were recorded in a  time of great turmoil and darkness for the Israelites. They faced both threats from the Assyrians and internal strife. Isaiah foretold that a “great light” would dawn, symbolizing the coming of the Messiah, Jesus Christ, who would bring hope, salvation, and guidance to a people lost in spiritual and moral darkness. There would be a new era of light during which the spiritual “shadow of death” would be overcome. 600 years later the prophecy was fulfilled and Christians started celebrating the birth of Jesus under another oppressive Empire, the Roman Empire.   

Christmas was formally celebrated on 25 December in Rome from around 336 AD, a date likely chosen to coincide with existing Roman winter festivals, marking the birth of Jesus alongside the pagan “rebirth of the unconquered sun”. Many traditions, like gift-giving, feasting, and bringing evergreens indoors, have roots in these ancient Roman celebrations. The Victorians embraced and elaborated Christmas creating a time of festivities and merriment during deep winter and now the source of many of our current traditions.  

“Advent is an active waiting!”

The word “advent” comes from the Latin adventus, which is about a coming or an arrival. The Latin translation of the New Testament uses adventus to describe God the Son arriving on Earth, born in Bethlehem.  But throughout Church history, Advent has more traditionally referred to Jesus’ future arrival, when he comes to complete his work of restoring all creation in the second coming.   

But what of our friends and fellow Christians who celebrate and mark Advent in the southern hemisphere, where the sun is at its peak and the summer solstice with long hot summer days coincides with Jesus’s birthday and the Christmas season? 

A pastor in Buenos Aires in Argentina reflects: 

“As I consider what I am waiting for this Advent, I think of new life. Jesus, the Good Shepherd, tells his disciples in John 10:10, ‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I have come that they may have life and have it to the full.’ Advent is an active waiting! Both Isaiah and John the Baptist proclaim the Advent of the Messiah by teaching the people to prepare the way, make straight paths, and produce fruit in keeping with repentance. This active waiting implies engaging in the new life that Jesus brings. Yes, we wait in hopeful anticipation for Jesus’ Second Advent, but we also live into and experience the fullness of new life offered today. 

“So, the new life of spring and summertime in Buenos Aires will once again be the lenses through which I engage in Advent this year. Our community serves among families living in poverty, including those who live and/or work on the streets. I seek to be an instrument of the Advent themes of hope, peace, joy, and love in the lives of my community by desiring to seek and live this newness of life in Jesus that stands in contrast to the things that steal, kill, and destroy. Advent for me is actively waiting in newness of life!” 

“Here in New Zealand the truth is represented in amazing light that lasts hour after hour, reflecting off water and sending luminous colours onto the hills.

And a Christian writer who has moved to New Zealand writes:

It can be challenging to develop a sense of inwardness, patience and contemplation when the Earth is on its outward breath, where we experience summer in its heat and intensity. The length of the days, and the brightness of the light, speaks to me about the Light who has come into the world in blazing abundance, reflecting the glory and wonder of heaven. And we can view the incarnation as a glimpse of the amazing glory of God, here with us on earth. What if we were able to see into heaven for a few minutes, knowing that in Christ the full glory of God is revealed? What if one of Jesus’ names, the Light of the World was demonstrated to us in blazing, abundant power at Christmas? That’s how I perceive the long days and the beautiful light at Christmas in New Zealand. 

“’What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it’ (John 1:3-5.)  In the Northern Hemisphere people see this verse represented in candles shining in cozy rooms and candle-lit churches. Here in New Zealand the truth is represented in amazing light that lasts hour after hour, reflecting off water and sending luminous colours onto the hills. This blazing light lifts my heart with its glory and abundance and speaks to me of the overwhelming wonder of God’s glory, brought to us in Jesus.”  

Whatever climate or hemisphere we are in during Advent, creation speaks of God. May God feel near this Advent. May the light from candles or the sun remind you that Jesus is the Light of the world. May God give you peace and hope in your hearts because the Light has come into the world in Jesus. 

Picture of Debbie Wright

Debbie Wright

Previously a Producer and Director for BBC Education and Science, Debbie now writes creatively about her passions for local church, creation care and arts & media. In her spare time she is a marmalade connoisseur and fair-weather birdwatcher, whilst she lives in London with her husband and youngest daughter of four girls.

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Migration

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Dave Bookless

Migration

Facing migration with wonder, worry and welcome.

From Arctic Terns crossing the globe to millions of people displaced by conflict and climate change, migration is one of nature and humanity’s defining stories. This reflection explores the wonder of migration, the growing threats faced by both wildlife and human migrants, and what a Christian response might look like through three themes: wonder, worry, and welcome.

Through this year, we’ve been looking at the natural world from micro to macro, from tiny organisms to global ecosystems. Migration is a theme that links both. Butterflies cross continents; songbirds weighing a few grams fly thousands of miles. Some of the statistics are extraordinary:  

  • Arctic Terns Sterna paradisaea regularly fly 90,000 km per year between the Arctic and Antarctic, which means in a lifetime they may fly the equivalent of to the moon and back three times![i]  
  • A satellite-tagged Bar-tailed Godwit Limosa lapponica entered the book of Guinness World Records after flying 11 days nonstop from Alaska to Tasmania, a distance of 13,560 kilometres.[ii] 

Another kind of migration has also been in the news. Humans have always migrated, locally and globally, driven by conflict, economic and environmental factors. The biblical people of Israel remembered, ‘my father was a wandering Aramean’.[iii] Yet today, we live in an era of unprecedented human migration. The number of international migrants within the Americas alone grew from 34.8 million in 1990 to 78.7 million by mid-2024.[iv] Environmental changes, particularly human-induced climate change, have become ‘the great displacer’. Predictions of climate refugees and migrants by 2050 vary hugely, with some suggesting over 1 billion. A median estimate, based on multiple studies, suggests over 170 million migrants within regions – not including intercontinental migrants.[v]  

“On a changing planet, with increasingly unstable ecosystems, both human and nonhuman migrants are suffering.

I’ve been reflecting on how migrating birds and butterflies cross national borders with impunity whilst human migrants face political barriers. Yet, on a changing planet, with increasingly unstable ecosystems, both human and nonhuman migrants are suffering. More than 30,000 people drowned trying to cross the Mediterranean between 2014 and 2024, with at least another 12,000 missing, presumed drowned.[vi] The western race of the Monarch butterfly has lost an estimated 99.9% of its population.[vii] The latest estimate of the annual Wildebeest migration in the Serengeti-Mara is under 600,000, less than 50% of previous estimates.[viii] Migratory birds face huge challenges with increasing desertification, extreme weather and changes to phenology (the flowering dates of plants).[ix] 

So, as Christians, how should we respond to migration? I want to suggest three simple ideas that perhaps relate to both human and wildlife migration. 

The practical result of wonder and worry is welcome.”

WONDER 

As a bird-ringer (bander), I have the privilege of holding tiny warblers that have navigated across oceans, mountain ranges and deserts to return to their breeding grounds. Even the most hardened atheist can have moments of awe at the miracle of migration. Let’s reawaken that childlike sense of joyful wonder. Let’s also reflect on the dangerous, desperate journeys made by those whose crops have failed, whose land is flooded or dried out, and who seek a better life. 

WORRY 

The statistics on wildlife migration are deeply disturbing in a world of habitat destruction, chaotic weather and changing climate. Worry may not be the best word, but we should lament and mourn at what our human choices have done to God’s world. Surely, we should also be deeply concerned at the suffering of vulnerable refugees and asylum seekers and the very real political challenges caused by mass migration? Words written thousands of years ago still speak to us: ‘The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself.’[x] 

WELCOME 

The practical result of wonder and worry is welcome. We are called to create spaces and communities where migrants can thrive. Jesus said, ‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in.’[xi] I like to apply those words to both nonhuman and human migrants. Our little London church faced this very recently when our newest member, an Iranian refugee, was suddenly made homeless and needed very practical help. Whether it’s putting up nest boxes for Swifts, planting for pollinators, protecting overwintering sites in Mexico or Congo, or supporting A Rocha’s critically important projects and research, we are called to create a welcoming home for all. 

Finally, the prophet Jeremiah wrote: ‘Even the stork in the sky knows her appointed seasons, and the dove, the swift and the thrush observe the time of their migration. But my people do not know the requirements of the Lord.’[xii] This somewhat unfavourable comparison with migratory birds should challenge us to seek God’s heart for all migrants, whether insects, birds or our fellow human mammals. 

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Dave Bookless

Dave is Director of Theology for A Rocha International, where he works to embed creation care into international Christian organizations, theological institutions, and mission movements. His past roles with A Rocha include being an International Trustee and the co-founder of A Rocha UK (with his wife Anne). He has a PhD from Cambridge University on biblical theology and biodiversity conservation, and has contributed to many books and articles, including Planetwise, available in six languages. Born and raised in India, Dave has a love for Indian food, Indian culture and Indian Christianity. Dave is also a qualified bird-ringer and loves birding, islands, running and mountains.

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Around the table

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Jo Swinney

Around the table

Connecting hospitality, food, faith and creation care.

Beginning with a century-old table at the heart of A Rocha’s community, this reflection explores the deep connections between hospitality, food, faith and creation care. Through personal stories and practical questions about what we eat, it challenges us to “join the dots” between our daily choices, the wellbeing of people and planet, and our relationship with God’s creation.

In 1986 my mother, Miranda Harris, was tasked with furnishing the first A Rocha field study centre, Cruzinha. She spent a huge proportion on one item, a beautiful, dark chestnut refectory table, at the time already 100 years old. The table is still there at the heart of the house, drawing people into community over lovingly prepared and gratefully eaten meals. And community remains at the heart of A Rocha.  

In October 2019 Mum died in a car accident. She had wanted to write a book about hospitality, community and food for years. Although she had begun work on it, she didn’t live to see it finished. It was my privilege to become her co-author. The following is an extract from our book, ‘A Place at the Table’. 

[Note: Miranda’s writing is in italics] 

An important part of preparing to offer hospitality is procuring the ingredients for the food you plan to serve. This might seem simple on the face of it – make a list, go to a shop or log on to your supermarket of choice and get the items you need. But there are many constraints and choices to be made and, far from being simple, shopping for food is about as morally and intellectually complex as it gets.  

"[Miranda] led us over the seldom-crossed chasm between farm and fork, and with knowledge came responsibility."

Money was tight for our family while I was growing up and more often than not there were many more than the six of us sitting down to eat. Until a certain point, however, we ate a varied and abundant range of foods. Then came the day someone made the mistake of giving mum a book: The Food We Eat[i] – or as we came to call it, ‘The Food We Used to Eat’, by investigative food journalist Joanna Blythman. In it she made a compelling case for considering not just price but the well-being of producers, the skill and care taken over how food is grown, reared or caught and the impact of what we eat on the soil, air and water. She led us over the seldom-crossed chasm between farm and fork, and with knowledge came responsibility. The holder of the household budget now knew the desperate plight of the attractively priced battery chickens. We would henceforth only eat the happiest of birds and only on the rare occasions we could afford them. Mum became equally enlightened about beef, pork and a seemingly ever-growing list of other consumables from chocolate to kiwis, eggs to pasta. I hold Joanna Blythman personally responsible for the abomination that is ‘Shepherd’s Beany Pie’ which made its unwelcome appearance at far too many of my childhood dinner times. For a while we ‘suffered with vegetarianism’ – a phrase I discovered recently while googling whether my newly veggie daughter could eat Turkish delight (yes, it is indeed suitable for those suffering with vegetarianism, the website earnestly informed me). Meat was back on the menu in less-straightened times, but always formerly happy meat.  

We talk a lot in A Rocha about ‘joining the dots’ – the ongoing exercise of connecting facets of life that live artificially segregated: prayer from work from worship; money from soil from flavour; humans from nature from God. Perhaps we need reminding that the business of food shopping is profoundly spiritual and imbued with relational consequence. 

Community includes not only the people around us, but also the creation itself. We all live in creation and handle its raw material every day. We didn’t even have our own day in the story of creation. We arrived on day six along with ‘livestock, creatures that move along the ground and wild animals’ (Genesis 1:24). We are part of creation, not outside it or over it or above it. 

"Community includes not only the people around us, but also the creation itself."

We can’t opt in or out of creation care or take it up as a hobby, like gardening or golf, if we aren’t too busy. We are doing it already – badly or well, living our relationship with God’s world like his children who love him, or like people who don’t know that it was made with infinite care, love and delight.  

Care begins with noticing. Anything God makes deserves our attention. Careful observation leads to wonder, worship and giving thanks. Our task is to find a place within creation and to worship the one by whom, through whom and for whom it was all made (Colossians 1:15-17).  

When my niece Jessica was three her parents took her to see cows being milked. She watched, entranced, as the huge, placid beasts stood patiently in a row while the milking apparatus throbbed rhythmically up and down on their udders, carrying white fluid through various tubes and eventually out of sight. Finally and thoughtfully she said, ‘Are they putting it in or taking it out?’ Sometimes we become disastrously separated from creation. We all recognise the white stuff in our lattes or on our breakfast cereal but fail to connect it with anything other than a plastic bottle or carton.  

Here is a suggestion for consideration: that to the extent we are able, we seek out the very best ingredients to prepare and serve up – the ones with the fullest flavour, the most vibrant colours, brought to market by people who care for the earth; that we savour the experience of peeling, chopping, mincing, slicing, mixing, roasting, frying, steaming. That we do not begrudge the extra pennies, the extra minutes, the burden of care, but offer them up from generous, full hearts, a sacrifice of praise. 

Picture of Jo Swinney

Jo Swinney

Jo Swinney joined A Rocha International as Head of Communications in 2020. Alongside this, she is a writer, speaker and editor.

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protect a forest

How do you protect a forest?

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Anna Radkovic

How do you protect a forest?

Faith, conservation and conflict in Kenya’s forests

In Kenya’s Dakatcha Woodlands, protecting biodiversity is far more complex than drawing boundaries around nature. This reflection explores the realities of conservation amid climate change, land insecurity, poverty and human conflict, asking what it means to care for both people and creation in a fragile landscape. Through the challenges facing A Rocha Kenya, it considers how faith, justice and environmental stewardship can coexist in an increasingly pressured world.

How do you protect a forest?

That’s the question A Rocha Kenya is wrestling with in the Dakatcha Woodlands on the coast of Kenya. That’s the question facing the world as our planet undergoes a global biodiversity crisis with over one million species at risk of extinction.[1]

How do you create resilient landscape where biodiversity and people can thrive together?

In Australia, it was relatively straightforward. I worked for a few years with Cassinia Environmental; as long as we had enough money, we could buy land with good quality habitat, change the legal status of the land to conservation and, with a bit of weeding, that would be that. That land was now protected in perpetuity for conservation. Provided there were no natural disasters or anarchy we could pretty much set and forget. We could trust the legal systems and government structures and community attitudes to property ownership to protect the biodiversity of that property.

No so in Kenya, it’s an altogether different story!  Protecting land in Kenya is complicated. A Rocha Kenya has been purchasing land to create a nature reserve since 2014. However, the government has not yet issued land titles for any of the property we have purchased. We can only buy the right to own the land – an agreement witnessed by a lawyer – not the land itself. A risky business. The alternative is doing nothing so we take the risk. More challenging, we’re not buying from one land owner in one clean deal, but from hundreds of landowners with complicated family dynamics and disagreements about who owns the land. After hours and days and weeks of conversations with cousins and brothers and village chiefs we finally locate the official owner of the land. They might own 100 acres but only want to sell 10 acres at a time to manage their finances. Instead of one deal to secure the 100 acres, we need to strike 10 deals. This increases the time and human resources needed, increases the risk of land degradation before we can complete the purchase and increases the price for every portion of land. Sometimes, when a price has been agreed on for the land but before the process is finalised, a cousin or nephew of the landowner will hear about the deal and cut down all the large old trees to sell for timber or charcoal for a bit of extra cash, undermining our original intent for purchasing the land.

"Protecting our forest is complicated."

Finally, A Rocha Kenya owns the rights to the land, the community recognizes the land ownership and we can begin managing the property for conservation. The complications continue. In a cash-poor economy, a forest is a big temptation for any young lad with a chainsaw and a motorbike to earn a bit of extra money. We have had to employ a team of 12 to regularly patrol our land for illegal activities. Every day they spread out across our Reserve, preventing poachers from helping themselves to our resources. We even have to protect our grass.  In Kenya, livestock are grazed across the landscape. The world is their oyster. Anywhere there’s a spare bit of grass, you’ll find a goat or cow chomping away. These guys don’t even know what fences are. For the local community, we don’t mind them grazing in our reserve. We’ve got good relationships with most people and the herds are only 5-15 head of livestock. Low impact grazing is not a problem and we’re happy to share our reserve with the local community – as landowners we are now part of the community, after all.

However, word has got out that Dakatcha grass is good. From 2020, thousands of livestock started moving into our Reserve. Sheep, goats, cows and camels bulldoze through the landscape, demolishing community crops and protected biodiversity alike. Dozens of herders from the north now bring their livestock every year to graze in this green space we have preserved. Climate change means that the north of Kenya is growing drier every year so the herders and their livestock hit the road in search of food. Increased privatization of land, a growing population and no national land use strategy means that there aren’t that many spaces left for the herders to go. Their traditional way of life is becoming increasingly difficult. Conflicts with other communities kept them moving in search of feed for their herds. And now they’re in our home. We have tried to meet with them, talk with them, explain to them they’re trespassing but they don’t want to listen. They don’t want to go. The community are frustrated, and the situation is becoming increasingly tense and violent. Last week we recruited 32 police officers to remove 16 different groups of herders and thousands of livestock from our Reserve. Where will they go? We don’t know, but the consensus is that they can’t stay here.

“How can we be people of peace and love and generosity?"

Protecting our forest is complicated.

It is not easy to steward this land we’ve been entrusted with. It’s a messy patchwork of threatened trees and endangered animals and vulnerable people. What does it look like for A Rocha to protect this forest? As conservationists, yes, but primarily as Christians who care for nature and for people. How do we love our neighbour when our neighbour comes with thousands of hungry livestock? How do we defend the cause of the local community and the threatened trees AND the herders – all of whom are at risk and fighting for survival but whose interests seem at odds with one another. How can we be people of peace and love and generosity? How can God’s kingdom come in Dakatcha, on earth as it is in Heaven? How can we protect our Reserve and offer it as a blessing to others? What does it look like for the risen saviour Jesus to be Lord of Dakatcha? What does it look like for us to be His people in this place.

Pray for us as we protect our forest. We protect it for the Sokoke Scops owl to have a safe home. We protect it for the community to have a landscape with healthy ecosystem services. We protect it for the African coast to keep its original, God created habitat. We protect it for the world to have natural spaces that reflect the glory of God. We protect it to worship Christ, who made it, sustains it and redeems it. From hungry cattle to no formal land protection and increased desertification from climate change, the micro to macro challenges feel weighty and far beyond our control. Pray that we would trust all the challenges of every size into God’s able hands and do our bit as His people to protect His forest.

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Anna Radkovic

Anna works with A Rocha Kenya to make Christ known by caring for his creation. She helps the leadership to support and empower the staff. She is also continuing to learn Swahili and some Giriama.

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