[Image] Destruction and debris in Philipsburg, Sint Maarten, after the island nation was struck by Hurricane Irma—the first Category 5 hurricane to hit the Leeward Islands—in September 2017.
A reflection on my 2024 Eco-Justice Fellowship journey
By Kristoff Strachan
Kristoff Strachan is one of seven young adults named as a 2024 Eco-Justice Fellow, a program of The Episcopal Church “that seeks to strengthen a faith-based response to ecological repair among new leaders.” Here, he shares thoughts from his time in that role.
I knew I was deeply passionate about environmental issues and justice when I applied to be an Eco-Justice Fellow with The Episcopal Church. I had no idea, however, how transformative the journey would be for me. It transformed my understanding of climate change and its disproportionate impacts, and also my spiritual growth, personal patience, and my sense and appreciation of community.
As part of our fellowship, each eco-fellow must develop a local eco-justice project in their congregation, institution or diocese. My project focused on the disproportionate impact of climate change, particularly tropical cyclones and other extreme weather events, on communities of color. Rooted in my lived experience as someone from the Bahamas, the work examined the intersection of environmental justice, racial equity and faith-based advocacy. My project highlighted the role of churches in fostering community resilience through spiritual support, education and material aid. I created a survey tool to help HBCU students assess their climate-related challenges and needs, with the goal of replicating successful models of response across other parishes. The project also emphasized the importance of partnerships between churches and institutions like HBCUs to advance climate justice, civic engagement and intergenerational healing.
My project began with an urgency. With anything I do, I wanted to design something perfect, something sweeping in its impact and academic in its rigor. I spent hours researching, which was nothing new to me. I was completing my final semester of undergraduate work at the time. I scoured climate reports, social justice case studies and biblical resources. I wanted my project to be not only meaningful but extraordinary. I pored over data and tried to create the “perfect” initiative that would embody eco-justice in all its dimensions. It was exhausting, rewarding and, honestly, at times, overwhelming.
In that whirlwind of striving, something shifted. It took a moment of openness, one of those grace-filled pauses with one of our mentors, Michelle Dibblee, to realize that by trying to create a masterpiece, I lost sight of the beauty of simplicity. The work didn’t need to be grand to be godly. I began to embrace the reality that change, especially the kind that shifts mindsets, often begins with being open. It was then that I returned to the Scripture that anchored my project from the start: “The Earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it” (Psalm 24:1). It reminded me that everything is sacred. And if it is the Lord’s, then we are called not just to admire it but also to protect it.
A MORAL ISSUE
As someone from a small island developing state, I have lived experience with the realities of climate injustice. Hurricanes and rising sea levels are not abstract ideas in my mind. They are lived truths. I have seen firsthand how the most vulnerable are hit the hardest. It’s not just about environmental degradation but also displacement, loss of culture and systemic neglect. Marginalized communities of color, both in the United States and around the globe, often bear the brunt of climate change. My fellowship deepened this understanding.
The data confirmed what my spirit already knew: Climate change is not just an economic and environmental issue. It’s a racial and moral one. My project aimed to explore the intersection of faith and advocacy, specifically how the church can be a voice in addressing the disproportionate impact of climate change in marginalized communities. Through conversations with church leaders and engagement with university students, I worked to build a bridge between lived experience and faithful response. I wanted to shine a light on how the church could model environmental stewardship that goes deeper toward equity, justice and restoration.
One of the most impactful experiences during my time as a 2024 Eco-Justice Fellow was our in-person retreat in Raleigh. It was there, surrounded by a group of passionate, faithful and justice-driven companions, I found rest, renewal and connection. My cohort companions—Elizabeth, Lori, Mercy, Rylie, Shane and Will—all brought their own brilliance, compassion and vulnerability to the circle. They challenged and inspired me. Our mentors, Michelle, Phoebe and the Rev. Melanie, were guides and beacons of steady encouragement and wisdom not only during the retreat but throughout the entire fellowship. Their leadership, rooted in care and clarity, reminded us that eco-justice is not a trend but a theological commitment. There was something sacred about gathering in that space, being able to worship, laugh, cry and strategize with others who understood the deep emotional and spiritual toll of climate work. We spoke about climate grief, about burnout and about hope. We prayed for our communities and for the world. And in that shared space, I was renewed. I left that retreat with a sharper vision of what is possible when we work collectively for justice, especially when we allow the church to be the vehicle for that movement.
A SPRINGBOARD TO ACTION
The church has always had the potential to be a force for transformative change. But in the face of the climate crisis, it must become bolder. We must be willing to challenge systems of exploitation, stand with frontline communities and imagine new ways of living that honor God’s creation. This fellowship reminded me that the church is not just a place for reflection but a springboard for action. Through liturgy, preaching and meaningful action, we can reawaken a theology of creation care that’s deeply rooted in justice.
I also learned to extend grace to myself. As someone who tends to overachieve, I had to unlearn the idea that my worth, or the worth of my project, was tied to grandiosity. There can be holiness in simplicity. There is value in doing something with heart. Sometimes, the most impactful work is not what makes headlines, but what sparks quiet conversations, opens new perspectives or empowers just one person to care more deeply. This fellowship taught me that the work of eco-justice isn’t about perfection. It’s about faithfulness.
Looking ahead, I am happy to carry with me the lessons I’ve learned and the relationships I’ve built. I carry the laughter of late-night discussions, the soft prayers, the affirming nods during difficult conversations and the deep sense of shared purpose. I carry the collective dream we envision: a church that does not stand on the sidelines but walks boldly into the storm, offering shelter, truth and hope. To future fellows, don’t be afraid to plan big, but don’t be discouraged when things feel small. Your voice matters. Your story is powerful. And the Earth, in all its sacred splendor, needs your care, your advocacy and your faith. Let your work be rooted in love, anchored in Scripture and responsive to the cries of those most affected.
I am thankful to The Episcopal Church, and I offer this reflection as both a personal testimony and a call to more action. We are at a critical moment. The Earth is groaning, and the people are suffering. Though, hope remains, because we have the resources, the theology and the community to make a difference. Let us continue to rise to the occasion. I will remain forever grateful to the Eco-Justice Fellowship for opening this door, for allowing me to walk through it with intention and support and for showing me what is possible when we let compassion lead. “The Earth is the Lord’s,” and when we remember that, truly remember it, then justice, equity and healing are not just possible. They are inevitable.
Kristoff Strachan was a 2024 Eco-Justice Fellow of The Episcopal Church. Contact him via the communications department.
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