How can I give someone a goat when I don’t have a goat?

My nephew is a very smart kindergartner. For Christmas, my husband and I donated money to World Vision in his name, and each month in the year 2010, he will receive a card from World Vision describing an animal he has given to a family in need. The concept has made little sense to him, and my parents, who receive the cards, have been charged with fielding question like, “How can I give someone a goat when I don’t have a goat?”

While I was on the phone with him last weekend, he asked me a similar question. I told him that we gave money to an organization that has animals to give away. We buy milk in a carton from a grocery store, but milk comes from cows, right? And not everyone has a grocery store from which to buy milk. People in other countries don’t have Walmarts. They don’t have grocery stores. If they want food, they must raise the food themselves. And they don’t always have money for food. So the money we sent buys the families the animals they need so they can have food.

“Don’t they at least have a Target?” he asked.

Like I said, my nephew is a very smart kindergartner. He is also an American. Milk comes from cartons. Chicken comes from McDonalds. Vegetables come from the produce section of the local grocery store. Without Target, where would we get food?

I’m an adult, and I ask the same sorts of questions he’s asking. I can tell you where we get milk and how chicken nuggets come to be. I can also tell you the basic process of how my clothing is made. How I get heat. How I wash my clothes. How my computer works. I know a little bit about all these things, but like most people, I don’t know very much. More than a five year-old, and less than I should.

I’m reading The Swarm by Frank Schatzing. It’s a science fiction novel about what would happen if the ocean started to fight back against the human population that was destroying its ecosystem. Scientists have created a simulator that gives a general idea of how the ocean works. Here’s a passage from the book:

“[The simulator] was a way of taming the ocean, albeit in miniature. Created by man from second-hand experience, the world inside it was an idealized copy of the real thing. People knew less about reality than they did about its substitutes. Children in America drew six-legged chickens because drumsticks came in packs of six, while adults drank milk from a carton, and recoiled at the sight of an udder. Their experience of the world was stunted, but it only fueled their arrogance. Bohrmann was enthused by the simulator and the possibilities it offered, but imitating life rather than analyzing it could make science blind. Understanding the planet was no longer enough for most people; they are intent on trying to change it. In the Disneyland of botched science, human intervention was forever being justified in new and disturbing ways.”

Stewardship of our planet is an idea I've circled in several recent blog posts. I haven’t really nailed down what stewardship looks like, and I suppose it’s because I’m not sure. The Bible is clear, however, that we are supposed to be taking care of the earth. It’s our responsibility. And you don’t have to be a Christian to believe that. The most vocal advocates for our planet are not Christians.

As Christians, we know the Creator. Should we be stepping up to defend creation?

I don’t save many things, but here are a handful of things I have saved:

1. In high school, my friend Sarah sewed me a white pillow with palm trees on it. I don’t use the pillow any more, but I can’t give it away because she made it for me.
2. In college, my roommate Melissa made me a small vase in her pottery class. I don’t keep in touch with Melissa anymore, but I still have the vase.
3. My mom sewed me the dress I wore to my high school graduation. I don’t have any clothes saved from high school except that dress.
4. My husband’s Aunt Debbie made us a boxful of knickknacks. I don’t have anywhere to display them, but I have them stored in a box in our storage closet.
5. I have pictures frames made by my friends Jennifer, Sarah, and Colleen that I still display.
6. For our wedding, my friend Jen painted a picture of me and my husband. I still haven’t found the perfect place to hang it, but it’s carefully stored until I do.
7. I have a book of photographs my younger sister took displayed as prominently as expensive coffee table books.
8. I replaced a very pretty Pier One tissue box with one featuring pictures my 2 year-old niece colored.

Like I said, I don’t save many things, but I will probably keep these things forever. I won’t keep them because they will be worth money someday. I won’t keep them because they are so important in the grand scheme of my life, marking monumental moments or special times. I will keep them because I know their creators. I love their creators. And because I know and love their creators, I feel compelled to respect and keep the creation.

If we know the Creator, and if this Creator has charged us with taking care of His creation, don’t we have a responsibility to do so? And conversely, if we draw close to His creation - if we do our best to understand, experience, and respect it - , won’t we then be drawing close to the Creator? Won’t we then be understanding, experiencing, and respecting Him?

Could our stunted view of creation be fueling our arrogance? Maybe we need to take several steps back and considered the sacrifices creation is making for our comfort. Maybe we need to remember that we are here to care for the earth, and if we don’t, we will eventually lose the resources we need to take care of us. And maybe, if we started to think more about where we really get milk and chicken and heat and clothes, our Creator could begin to strip away our pride.