BitterSweetLife

I had this picture the other day of us humans as immortal creatures, who had maybe once had wings, who are having our faces rubbed in the dirt. In this instance, the dirt was time—or mortality, the count-down stopwatch of chronos time—notching off the seconds of our one day in the sun.

In my mind's eye, we were these strong, happy beings intended to live forever, steadily growing more at home in eternity, a world without loss. Instead, we're gasping for breath on this earth, a Dust Bowl that chokes out the immortality our DNA still remembers. As if Earth is our kryptonite.

As I was thinking about how this concept was fantastic enough to belong in a sci fi novel, I was also thinking that it's a fairly accurate account of where we find ourselves today. Which goes to show you that this world is simultaneously stranger and more beautiful than we typically realize.

This picture of us would-be immortals languishing under the weight of an alien landscape would be very pitiful, in a poetically tragic sense, except for one fact: We made our world the killing field it is. We're not suffering under the whims of a cruel Dictator. Rather, we're suffering the consequences of defying a kind Creator. And this changes the whole picture.

Rather than appearing as tragic heroes, we emerge as people who simply need to turn around and go make up with our Father. We can keep choking on the dirt of fallen Earth, or we can turn to Jesus and receive again the eternity we were intended to enjoy.

The picture is still epic, but the spotlight shifts from us, the confused and wounding immortals, to Jesus, the origin of our immortality, and the One who still stands at the gate of the Garden, offering to give it back.