A Letter from the Future—A Wake-Up Call for the Present

In a world increasingly strained by the impacts of climate breakdown, it’s tempting to avoid thinking too far ahead. But imagining where our current path might lead is essential if we want to steer away from disaster. Today, I want to share a fictional letter from a possible future—a letter written in 2050 by a church leader in Leeds. I chose Leeds simply because it’s where I’m from, but the message holds relevance for us all. This isn’t a prediction but a heartfelt, imaginative exploration of what could happen if we don’t act with the urgency this moment demands.

This letter, though fictional, comes from a place of deep concern. It’s not meant to be a gloomy forecast but a prophetic call to action—a challenge for us to engage our hearts and minds with the reality we face. As Pope Francis said, "The climate is a common good, belonging to all and meant for all... We need an ecological conversion, a radical change of hearts and minds." His words remind us that we cannot afford to be complacent.

The future described in this letter is one where we failed to act when it mattered most, letting comfort and denial prevent us from making the hard decisions. It’s a sobering reflection on what might happen if we continue down this path—where we end up apologising for missed opportunities and the pain that could have been avoided.

Yet, this letter also serves as a reminder of the growing movement for change. Today, there are many individuals and organisations—churches, Christian Climate Action, Operation Noah,  Christian Aid, and Green Christian—working tirelessly for a more sustainable future. They are raising the alarm, advocating for urgent action, and providing a beacon of hope. To explore further how churches can respond to climate breakdown see Laudato Si and the course 'Climate Justice: Following Jesus in a World of Climate Breakdown.

Transcript

Letter to the Yorkshire Evening Post

August 23, 2050

To the Editor,

I write to you from the heart of Leeds, a city now shadowed by the collapse of our world—a collapse we, both as a Church and as a community, have failed to prevent. This letter is not just a message; it is an apology, a confession, and a plea for forgiveness.

In the 2020s, we declared a climate emergency. We stood in our sacred spaces, held up the banners of righteousness, and proclaimed that immediate action was needed. Yet, despite our declarations, we remained entrenched in optimism and denial. We continued as if the storm could be kept at bay by mere words and half-hearted gestures. We acted as though the apocalypse was a distant specter, rather than an impending reality.

Our church, which should have been a guiding light, was instead a beacon of inaction. We preserved our financial reserves as though they were a bulwark against the coming tempest, rather than tools to build a resilient, compassionate community. Now, with the collapse of the pound, those reserves are as worthless as our promises of change. The resources we clung to are gone, and we are left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret and the devastation we could have mitigated.

The storm of 2040 was our crucible. When the roof of our church caved in under the weight of that merciless tempest, it was not just our building that was destroyed—it was the illusion that we could continue to live in denial. We saw the damage, but we failed to see the larger truth. We repaired the physical structure, but we did not mend the moral and spiritual fractures within us. We continued to live in a bubble of comfort and denial while the world outside was falling apart.

Now, as we look around in 2050, we see the results of our negligence and misplaced hope. Our city, once vibrant, now grapples with food shortages, a disintegrated national government, and a rising tide of violence and fear. We should have used our resources to prepare emotionally, spiritually, and practically. We should have been a sanctuary in a storm, a community centre where compassion and justice reigned. Instead, we were too busy protecting our own façade.

We owe Leeds an apology. We failed to be the light we were meant to be. We missed the chance to prepare ourselves and our city for the challenges we now face. If only we had acted with the urgency and commitment that our faith demands, if only we had spent our energy on building a more compassionate community, we might have weathered this storm with more grace.

This is a time to own our failures and confront the harsh truths of our past. But even in this deep lament, there is a path forward. We cannot undo what has been done, but we can choose to change how we respond. Let us now be the Church we should have been all along—a place of refuge, a source of love, and a bastion of nonviolence in a world gripped by chaos.

To those who still read these words, let this be our call to action. Let us rise from our failures and build anew. Let us embrace the role we neglected and work tirelessly to be a true light in the darkness. It is not too late to transform our regret into action, our sorrow into hope, and our brokenness into a foundation for a better future.

In profound apology and renewed determination,

Rev’d Jeremiah Noah 

Leeds 

August, 2050 

(This fictional letter was put together by Rev’d Jon Swales with assistance from ChatGPT. Jon is reminded that Jim Antal did somethign similar in his book 'Climate Church/Climate World' and this had an influence on his own journey into offering a christian vocie on climate breakdown.