Genesis 1:26–28 has been a significant focus of enquiry into the place of humankind in creation, due in part to two Hebrew words: רָדָה [radah, to have dominion] and כָּבַשׁ [kabash, to conquer]. Critics tend to view it as a God-given authority to own and exploit. However, a more detailed examination revealed a grainy appearance. Radah is not in any space; rather, it exists in the context of צֶלֶם [tselem], the image of God, as discussed below. This language in the ancient Near East was royal, as kings were regarded as earthly embodiments of divinity who ruled not by brute power but by justice and order. Similarly, humanity, being the image of God, rules not as conquerors but as a kind of steward, a governor who rules as God himself.

It is not an ontological statement about sharing the essence of God but rather a functional statement regarding the fulfilment of a role. To be a carrier of the image of God is to be a ruler in the way God would rule, that is, through wisdom, restraint and care for the prosperity of the entirety. In contrast, the dominion mandate of Genesis 1 is limited by the nature of the One whose image we are created.

The latest eco-theological texts have viewed the imago Dei as not about domination but about relationship responsibility. Magezi (2024:5) claims that creation in the image of God is a commission from God to represent his caring sovereignty over creation (Magezi 2024:5). This perception is enhanced by Afro-ecofeminist interpretations of Genesis 2:4–24. African eco-spiritualities exhibit that the human role is considered highly relational in nature, based on the notion of interdependence with the earth, community and the divine (Juma 2025:6–8). To this end, the servitude [abad] and protection [shamar] of the garden are kinship (but not domination) (Lala & Lala 2025:3), include the fact that stewardship is a derivative of becoming representatives of God, not owners of creation. These views combined question interpretations that support exploitation. Instead, they recover Genesis 2 as an invitation to one another in the web of God.

Genesis 1 reinforces the concept and indeed, the use of intrinsic values without having to do with utility, through the repetition of the term creation good [tov]. God refers to creation as good even before the emergence of humans (Gn 1:10, 12, 18, 21, 25), which implies that the value of creation is a divine assessment, not a human application. In Genesis 1:31, the very good [טוֹב מְאֹד = tov meod] is a totality of the order created, the totality of humanity in the larger ecological system. This is a direct defiance of anthropocentric readings in which the value of creation is diminished for the benefit of people.

In Genesis 2:15, we have a counterpart point of view: The LORD God brought human into the Garden of Eden and tilled and managed it. The Hebrew words עָבַד = abad [serve, till] and שָׁמַר = shamar [guard, preserve] can be used to elucidate the vocation of humankind. Abad, which may also be translated as serve, implies that human beings should serve the garden and not merely exploit it. The term Shamar, often used to describe priestly care for sacred space (Nm 3:778; 18:7), suggests that Eden is a sanctuary that must be carefully managed. This image describes human as a gardener who works in the temple garden of God as a priest, taking care of God’s Garden.

Recent scholarship on this journal confirms that abad [to serve] and shamar [to guard] verbs represent a priestly profession, not just farming, as previously thought. Regarding the practice of taking care of a garden and maintaining it, Magezi (2024:5) argues that it ought to be viewed as a form of liturgical stewardship, a form of worship in a sacred space. This is reinforced by Dames (2024:5), who says that Eden is the first temple where mining is not done but devoted service. This interpretation is furthered by Juma (2025:6–8), who provides an African eco-spiritual interpretation of the meaning of abad and shamar, which are not the bosses of the earth but its kin. In this perception, stewardship is relational, based on the view that the land is a gift of life and is given to the people. Collectively, these visions validate that Genesis 2:15 redeems humanity, and that his perspectives are not dominated by God, but are to be revered in the sanctuary of God.

Theology is furthered in Leviticus 25 with the Sabbath and Jubilee laws. Agricultural land should take a rest every seventh year: But in the seventh year, there shall be a sabbath of rest unto the land, a sabbath of the LORD (Lv 25:4). It is because of this that ecological restrictions on productivity are a must to pop the bubble of infinite exploitation. Better still, verse 23: The land belongs to me, and you are nothing but a stranger and a tenant to me. This assertion makes three strings of truth: firstly, that the land ultimately belongs to God; secondly, that humans are only a provisional tenant; and thirdly, that those in charge of this provisional tenure bring with them a heavy burden. It is not a scramble to the statute but an earthquake in theology, shaking proprietary rights to absolute possession.

Modern eco-theological thought believes that Leviticus 25 breaks the myth of absolute human ownership of land. Dames (2024:7) advocate the claim that the statement of land is mine (Lv 25:23) is also resistance to commodification by God, that is, the earth turns from being a possession into being a blessed trust. Conradie (2024:8) also notes that the Sabbath year and Jubilee are not spiritual ones but structural interventions, a plan made by God to avoid inequality and ecological depletion. Pakpahan (2025:4–6) supports this reading by equating Jubilee and the Dayak tradition of Gawai and proves that the two stress the sacred relationship between human beings, the land and God (Pakpahan 2025:4–6). According to Fernández (2023:8–10), Jubilee is also described as the ecology of wholeness; it breaks the systems of accumulation and perceives creation as home (Fernández 2023:8–10). Such attitudes taken collectively affirm that Leviticus 25 is in the business of providing an alternative to extractive economic modes: divine property makes human ownership relative and ecological ethics cannot be considered apart from the notion of distributive justice.

The connotations are even more than individualistic. Jubilee and sabbatical beats transcend individual holiness. This is because the Earth rests every 7 years. It cancels debts after every 50th year, frees enslaved people and gives back the land of an estate to natural families. These are not charities but restructurings, God-designed revolutions, which are to be made to see that poverty and power are not established. Notably, ecological and social justice cannot be distinguished in this context. In cases where the landlords are not cultivating the land, the land rejuvenates its soil, and low-income people harvest the wild crops. He is the one who heals the earth and keeps the weak alive.

This all-encompassing approach stands in sharp contrast to contemporary paradigms that perceive environmental concerns and social justice as two aspects of existence (Messias 2024:68; Ngwena 2024:3–4). The scripture has not been split this way. It is the same God who owns the earth (Ps 24:1); the world is the Lord’s, and all in it, who heals the groan of the landless and enslaved people. However, to tend to creation is never merely a matter of trees or rivers, but a matter of justice, memory and the power not to allow that piling up to obscure compassion. This statement contextualises the notions of worship (Ps 24:3–6) and divine kingship (Ps 24:7–10), showing that awareness of God as the owner of creation is a prerequisite for appropriate worship and recognition of divine sovereignty. Claims to hold land by human beings are relative to the ultimate divine ownership, which creates a theological foundation for environmental stewardship as an act of responsibility towards the Creator.

It is a significant break with a few present-day paradigms that tend to separate environmental protection and social justice into two different entities. Schlosberg (2013) noted that mainstream environmentalism has been known to favour conservation of the wilderness to the disadvantage of the voices of the poor, a dualistic nature that Leviticus 25 directly questions (Schlosberg 2013:42). In contrast, Messias (2024) endorses the fact that ecological care circulated in the statement of the Laudato si does not separate care of the earth from care of the marginalised, but finds a common home in which the idea of ecological justice cannot be segregated and similarly social justice (Messias 2024:68). Another incorporation, according to Ngwena (2024), like in African indigenous epistemologies, is land, community and divine sovereignty as one (Ngwena 2024:3–4).

However, the Biblical scripture does not represent such a bifurcation. It recognises the same God as that who possesses the earth (Ps 24:1); the Lord is the Lord of the world, and there is nothing in it and listens to the groan of the landless and the slave. Therefore, working on creation can never be just a process of taking care of trees and rivers; it is the question of justice, memory and denying the accretion of compassion. Such a vision puts current conceptions of biblical worship (Ps 24:3–6) and biblical god-Kingship (Ps 24:7–10) into context, which shows that the mindfulness of God as the sole owner of creation is a preconditioning factor for true worship and trustworthy management.

Instances of humans claiming the rule of the land are temporary, since they are vested under divine property. This value is what environmental responsibility stands on as a covenantal duty to the Creator.

Romans 8:18–25 introduces the topic of creation [κτίσις = ktisis] as a subject of suffering and anticipation of freedom. According to Paul, creation anxiously anticipates the revelation of the children of God (Rm 8:19). This humanist figure transfers agency and expectation to the creation of places and opposes more strictly instrumental perspectives. The subjection of creation to futility [ματαιότης = mataiotes] did not happen of its own will but on the part of the one who subjected it, presumably the outcome of human sin in Genesis 3. This confirms that ecological degradation is caused by human defiance, not divine will.

The culmination of the passage attests to this: the creation itself will loosen the chains of corruption and receive the freedom of the praise of the children of God (Rm 8:21). This connects the liberation of creation with the glorification of humanity, and the redemption of human beings and healing ecology are inseparable. The created order is also meant by redemption, not just the souls of humans. The imagery of groaning and labour pains (Rm 8:22) reflects the suffering at hand, along with the hope of new birth, the reality of the new present environmental crisis, and the hope of change that will come in the future.

Paul incorporates adherents of the moaning of creation: we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, moan inwardly as we wait for the adoption, the redemption of our bodies (Rm 8:23). This unity of humanity and the world challenges dualistic spirituality, which undermines the material world. Not escapism with physicality, but the inclusion of bodily resurrection and cosmic renewal is contained in the concept of redemption in the novel. The presence of the Spirit as first fruits [ἀπαρχή = aparche] assures future consummation and encourages current environmental interaction as being involved in God’s redemptive work.

Recent eco-theological literature ascertains that Paul did not have an escapist vision in Romans 8 but an earth-affirming one. Masengwe (2025:7) also claims that creation itself is an object of redemption, which groans in sporadic expectation of redemption with the rest of humanity. Dames (2024:6) state that the first fruits of the Spirit enable believers to enter into the redemptive work of God in the present world. This eschatological hope is associated with green responsibility, and groaning is the motivation behind being a steward and not a despairer. Cinjee, Schaap-Jonker and Smit (2025) also stress that the desire to create is the foundation of Christian climate care, whereas Ibita (2025:7) relates it to eco-anxiety and ecopedagogy, pointing to its contribution to ecological conversion (Cinjee et al. 2025:229–231; Ibita 2025:7). Together, all these voices bring in Romans 8 cosmic solidarity: creation, humankind, will fall into bondage along with futility, will be freed along with Christ. Redemption should not be theorised as a process of retracting, but as an actual process of genuinely co-suffering with an ecologically inappropriate planet, thus redefining discipline as the healing process and the expression of environmental justice.

Colossians 1:15–20 explains cosmic Christology that endorses the work of Christ in creation and reconciliation. He is the personification of the unseen God, the firstborn of every creation; in him everything in heaven and earth was created (Col 1:15–16). The combination of the words all things [τὰ πάντα = ta panta] means the whole cosmos, establishing Christ’s universal importance. The fact that everything was created in his name and around him (Col 1:16) suggests that the cosmos exists not to benefit humanity but to glorify Jesus Christ.

The climax of the vision is in verse 20: God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things on earth or in heaven by the blood of his cross, making peace. The phrase all things [ta panta] is not a figure of speech; it is an intentional repetition of verse 16, which speaks of the same all things having been created in Christ and in his name. There is no difference in the scope of creation and reconciliation: that which is not under the redemptive arc of Christ does not exist. This is because ecological healing is not an appendix to the gospel; instead, it is embedded in the gospel itself. The cross, however, is not just about the guilt of human beings but also about a more profound discontinuity at the very centre of creation, what Paul elsewhere refers to as bondage to decay (Rm 8:21).

An increasing number of theologians insist that faithful ecological responses can no longer be limited to personal practices such as recycling, driving less or even eating less. According to Jenkins (2013), the systemic causes of planetary destruction that Christian ethics must address are economies based on unlimited extraction, political systems that postpone justice and cultural myths that present consumption as a guarantee of prosperity (Jenkins 2013:52). Antal and McKibben (2023) amplifies this, asserting that genuine climate ethics would be impossible without destroying institutional frameworks that prioritise profit over people and the planet (Antal & McKibben 2023:20).

Remarkably, this vision resonates in Leviticus 25. Sabbath and Jubilee are not personal spiritual practices but collective new structural practices ordered by God: land rest, debt relief and emancipation of enslaved relatives. They are not charity but measures intended to prevent the entrenchment of inequalities and ecological degradation, which are immediate threats to the dogma of the unrestrained expansion of capitalism.

This study adds to this discussion by making the Sabbath deep-rooted in the doctrine of the imago Dei. When human is made in the image of God, we ought to ask ourselves, what does God do? The answer is so deep in Genesis 2:23: God rests. Divine identity is characterised by termination, pleasure and faith in the goodness of creation. Therefore, bearing God’s image is not about maximum output at whatever cost, but being a part of the work and rest rhythms that respect the boundaries of creation.

In this way, the Sabbath becomes a form of theological resistance: it denies the myth of the Earth as an endless warehouse and the value of human beings as connected to productivity. Thus, climate action requires not policy adjustment or technological transformation, but cultural transformation. We need to know how to view sufficiency as grace, rest as faithfulness, and limits not as failure but as Godly wisdom in a finite world.

Horrell (2015) and Lowe et al. (2023) confirm that eschatological hope, including the one Paul saw in Romans 8 of liberation of creation, drives current action and is not related to escapism (Horrell 2015:170; Lowe et al. 2023:7). Where Horrell emphasises solidarity with the groaning of creation (empathy as motivation), this study focuses on responsibility (stewardship as accountability). They work together: one of them gives an emotional push, another a theological foundation.

Northcott (2013) is critical of technological optimism as an idol, arguing that innovation is not the solution to crises caused by overconsumption and addiction to growth (Northcott 2013:32,125). He resorts to the Sabbath as a counter-witness, which is repeated in Leviticus 25:23: The land is mine. If the planet is in the hands of God, then no amount of green technology warrants infinite mining.

This is supported by Lynch et al. (2025), who insist on change not only in behaviour but also in spiritual, social and structural principles (Lynch et al. 2025:6,11,14). Technology exists, but it must be the servant of life and nothing more so. The new world revives this world; hence, it is theologically imperative to look after it.

Biodiversity ethics emphasise the value of non-human animals as objects to be treasured, not as mere resources, but as species that transcend utilitarian paradigms. Bauckham (2009) argues that creation theology, as presented in the Bible, reflects a community of creation in which every creature has theological meaning to God, regardless of its usefulness (Bauckham 2009:30). Based on Imago Dei (Gn 1:26–28), the imperative of stewardship aligns with the character of God, not his dominion, when considered in the context of God taking care of animals (Gn 1:22) and his joy at the presence of wild animals (Job 3:4; Ps 104) (Pasaribu, Sipahutar & Hutabarat 2008:152; Putri, Sembodo & Prabowo 2022:11).

This study builds on Bauckham’s argument that intrinsic value is based on cosmic Christology (Col 1:1520). All things are created through Christ and to serve Christ, which makes the purpose of creation Christological and not anthropocentric. The loss of biodiversity is not only a form of ecological deprivation but also a hindrance to Christ’s reconciling mission (Col 1:20). Therefore, the conservation of biodiversity is a theological requirement that overrides practical interests (Okoh & Majimre 2024:6,10; Olajide 2025:8).

Van Wolde (2017) supports this view by showing that the Hebrew word for create, namely, the verb ‘bara’, is used only in the form Hebrew God as the subject of the action, which highlights the fact that creation is a gift of God and not an object of human ownership (Van Wolde 2017:8,13). This linguistic argument is underpinned by a stewardship ethic based on humility and places humanity in the role of recipients, but not owners.

Conradie (2024) highlights the Noah story (Gn 69) as a covenant with the entire living creation, stating that God is committed to biodiversity in itself, not just to provide humanity with an opportunity to survive (Conradie 2024:7,10).

Today, this call is urgent. According to scientists, we are experiencing the sixth mass extinction, and species are dying 100–1000 times more rapidly than the natural extinction background (Ceballos, Ehrlich & Raven 2020:13597). Scripture, in its turn, provides a solid theological rationale of biodiversity ethics founded on three interrelated pillars: first, the inherent goodness of creation proclaimed by God in Genesis 1, when the world had not yet manifested itself; second, the Christological telos of all things, which Colossians 1:16 holds when it states that creation is created through and by Christ, not just to serve human needs; third, the inclusion of all living creatures in the covenant made by God, which is evidenced in Genesis 9, when God forms (Lewis 2025:8).

The combination of these pillars is that anthropocentric utilitarianism is deconstructed, and the Church is forced to adopt a theologically oriented, emphatic ethic of biodiversity, that is, considering each species as witnessing the glory of God and part of the redemption narrative.

The issues of creation are directly related to the concerns of humanity. The academic literature on environmental justice has confirmed that the phenomenon of ecological injustice, as shown by marginalised groups, particularly low-income individuals and people of colour, is a systemic effect rather than an accident (Carmichael 2023:107; Furio 2025:8). This can be compared to the teachings of the prophets of the Bible, who warn of the need to tread on the needy (Am 8:4) and emphasise imperative justice, mercy and humility (Mi 6:8). These teachings also integrate ecological, social and indivisible levels.

This integration is also demonstrated by Leviticus 25: the required rest of the land and the right of the poor to harvest are the elements that do not recognise the modern divide between the so-called environmental and social issues. According to the text, the earth is not owned by human but by God (Lv 25:23), and the jubilee disrupts this accumulation process. Thus, the entire text criticises the uncontrolled accumulation and extraction methods that contribute to worsening climate change and inequality in the region.

The conceptual framework of the climate crisis proposed by Moe-Lobeda (2016) is that of climate debt, stating that historical emissions by the Global North create a moral duty that goes beyond the scope of emissions reduction and encompasses reparative justice through the use of finance, technology transfer and support for adaptation (Moe-Lobeda 2016:125,132,185). This view is in line with the structural overhaul of the Jubilee and the limits of ownership imposed by God.

African theological structures also improve this paradigm. Mokoena (2022) and Terblanché-Greeff (2019) view Ubuntu as an alternative epistemology to Western individualism and consumerism, emphasising the superiority of the group over the individual, along with sufficiency and relationality as its principles (Mokoena 2022:6,8; Terblanché-Greeff 2019:4,6;). This perception is like Acts 2:44–45 and Leviticus 25:23, in which the assets are communised to the sovereignty of God.

Romans goes further and gets deeper into the theological stakes; creation is not a passive thing but rather is groaning in unity with humanity and awaits redemption for both (8:19–22). In turn, ecological and human well-being are enclosed in each other; therefore, environmental degradation is a theological but not a policy failure.

While critics such as Holden (2020) suggest that the Bible is unaware of contemporary frameworks such as global capitalism, this paper argues that the Biblical framework of some of the core concepts of the Bible, such as divine property, Sabbath laws, prophetic justice and cosmic reconciliation, offers open theological advice (Holden 2020:218). Their revolutionary quality is achieved not in the abstract but via application in context, based on local knowledge, such as Indigenous and African wisdom, and sensitivity to particular ecological and structural forms of injustice.

Hence, true environmental justice must be globally solid and rooted in the locality, driven by Scripture, contextually constructed and morally urgent.

Putting biblical convictions into practice requires careful navigation of the various waterways of personal practice, church practice and public advocacy. Personal: Individual consumption and sustainable choice. Ecclesial: lamentations and liturgy about the loss of biodiversity, sermons linking justice and climate, and renewable energy in churches. People’s: taking a more community-based approach to climate policies, standing up for Indigenous peoples and taking on corporations.

This study agrees with Hayhoe’s ‘Creation care is part and parcel of Christian discipleship, far from foreign ideology’. Genesis 1–2 summons human stewardship, Leviticus 25 commands rest for the soil, Psalm 104 praises biodiversity, Colossians 1 makes creation Christocentric, and Romans 8 ties human and ecological redemptions together. This is not peripheral but central to the biblical faith.

The transition from principle to practice is complex. The scripture provides a vision, not a blueprint. The hermeneutical task is not to look for a correspondence between the old and the new but to discover the principles of the former in the latter (Hays 1997:4,6,118). Leviticus 25 does not prescribe climate policy. However, the principles of the Book of Leviticus – limits on accumulation, mandatory rest and divine possession of the land – challenge systems that regard creation as an infinite resource.

Akoto (2025) and Dames (2024) are of great significance. Akoto believes that a transformation is needed that changes worldviews and economic systems, rather than just individual behaviour, to tackle the climate crisis (Akoto 2025:6; Dames 2024:8,11). Extractive and unequal systems are such that recycling and meatless Mondays are not enough. Discipleship is personal, political, spiritual and structural. Anything less is not consistent with the biblical vision of binding human flourishing to the flourishing of creation (Clemence 2015:152).

The Bible first states the idea of a Sabbath for land rest using Leviticus 25 (Lv 25:4–5). This puts limits on the limitless exploitation of the land and treats the land as a covenant partner, not a commodity to be extracted to the fullest. Proper engagement implies system participation. This means engaging in a struggle against making renewable energy changes, supporting climate reparations in countries of the Global South, and challenging an economic system that is profit-driven and does not focus on the welfare of the planet.

The church’s role is not automatic but irreplaceable. When it comes to congregations, they have a specially designed place to lead worship, teaching and institutional life. Among others, liturgies of lament and creation resilience, sermons about how the weeping heart of Amos is reflected in modern climate refugees, churches powered by renewable energy, fossil fuel-divested investment portfolios, and land as a sacred trust and not real estate. These are not peripheral; they are manifestations of discipleship.

Churches have lean budgets, conflicting priorities and theological differences. There are people in the church who do not desire the politicisation of faith, and others who lack confidence in climate science. These are practical impediments that must be met with patience, teaching and prudence.

Christians go to the marketplace; it is not that doctrine imposed is on them, but rather that they have a just cause. This includes the promotion of climate policy in favour of vulnerable populations, supporting Indigenous communities struggling to defend their territory, and holding corporations responsible for the destruction of the environment. The church is not an isolated haven of refuge but a healing place. However, this requires going beyond rhetoric to actual action, which is difficult but must be done.

Questions are raised as to whether religious communities can participate in environmental issue resolution in the case of historical complicity. In this study, we agree with Conradie (2024) that it is not a question of the failure of faith communities but rather the availability of resources for renewal, which can be found in biblical theology (Conradie 2024:3204). The answer is yes.

Modern research on biblical cosmology shows the pressing topicality of biblical teachings for ecological ethics. With its articulation of eschatological hope in Romans 8:22 that creation is ‘groaning and will be restored’, eschatological hope is a strong motivator towards action, making each act of healing meaningful. Sabbath wisdom interrogates the ubiquitous idolisation of free market growth. Therefore, it is a question of ecological crisis as well as theological transgression that the loss of biodiversity erodes the intrinsic worth of creation that is recognised in Genesis, Job, Psalm 104, and the teachings of Christ. Prophetic literature explicitly links environmental decay to systemic injustice, thus setting the interrelations of polluted air, poverty, deforestation and displacement. In this Biblical paradigm, there is neither a clear-cut environmental problem that exists in isolation from human dignity nor a clear-cut human dignity that exists in isolation from environmental issues.

There are three levels for principle adoption, namely:

The numerically strong Church of the world, with 2.4 billion practising believers, as demonstrated in the encyclical of Pope Francis, Laudato Si, has extensive moral and practical influence. Whether Scripture is pro-creation care or not is the focal point, but will modern believers revive this vision with a sense of urgency and boldness? It is not an add-on task but one of the core responsibilities that needs to be truly faithful to Christ in a world that is groaning without recession.

Future scholarship will be interested in the context of intelligibility of Proverbs, the enclaves of morals outlined in the prophetic books of Isaiah, Hosea and Jeremiah, and the vision of restoration in the book of Revelation.

A palpable outcry of voices emerges from the Global South as Christian groups implement ecological doctrine in the face of compounded climate crises and socioeconomic deprivation. These movements involve Indigenous congregations in the Amazon, Pacific Island assemblies, and African theologians who combine Ubuntu philosophy and Sabbath practices as resilience strategies. These stakeholders must provide information for the development of global ecological theology in a participatory manner, as opposed to documentary depiction.

What is also necessary is the operationalisation of scriptural vision, which is operationalised in the form of lament and gratitude liturgies, ecologically oriented hymnal compositions, pedagogical curricula of Sunday schools, and visually compelling prophetic artefacts, which enable ecclesiastical organisations to speak the truth to authority at the municipal and international negotiation tiers. This means that theological praxis must involve the translation of text into embodied action in the environment as a form of scholarship.