ADAM'S CHOICE AND ADAM'S ROAD.
The human race has wrestled across the centuries with why we die. Some would argue, it's natural -- the cycle of life that brings birth, death, and rebirth. It's something to celebrate as part of the human experience. Still others see death as a grand foe. They wage a war against it with syringes or ointments or foods stripped of fun and flavor. But no matter what approach we take -- whether we explain death away or try to outrun it -- that yawning cave still waits for us at the end of our life's journey.
Humanity -- with all of its approaches to death -- understands, at least subconsciously, that death is unnatural. Something is wrong with a human body deprived of God's breath.
Death is not natural. The road we humans walk -- the one that always terminates in death -- was not the road God made for us in the beginning. When the trees of Eden still dripped with the morning's first dew, humanity was immortal. The Creator had fashioned our race himself, kneeling in the mud and shaping beings from the dust -- dirt lings, if you will -- to look like him. When that human's chest rose for the first time, it did so with a breath expelled from God's own lungs.
So humanity's road was established -- the road God wanted us to walk was never supposed to end -- and certainly not in death. It would win around the globe, beginning life and order and peace to every place it crossed, but it would not end. Death was not our destiny. Only life heaped upon more life.
And more than that, God wanted to walk that road with his new dirt lings. The first time we see him act after he rests from his days of making, he's come to walk with humans. To be with them. To enjoy their company in the cool of the day. The immortal God hand-in-hand with our immortal race.
Our experience of death and all the terror and trauma the life before it brings with it was never meant for humanity. Our genes, worn thin through the years that death is an enemy, not a friend. When the chest stills and eyes close and mouth parts to release one final puff of air, the very nature of humanness crumbles apart. We call it natural to ease our minds.
God never intended his divine race of representatives to grow weak and frail and return to the clay from which he crafted us. God gifted us immortality. But our first father and mother chose death.
In that day, our mother and father chose this road we walk. This road that takes the bright hope of childhood and flings it to the night sky, promising a place among the stars but really just snuffing it out in the biting cold of a winter wind. This road that grinds our feet, knees, belly, heart, and head to dust. So that, by the time we reach death's yawning maw, we crumble like the dirt lings we are.
This road is our inheritance. Willed to us by parents who thought they were choosing the better path. And we choose like them when we challenge God for mastery of this life. We try to build like our Creator, but fail like our father. We cannot kiss life into dust. The doors of Eden closed behind us, and we have only death to look forward to the end.
The human race has wrestled across the centuries with why we die. Some would argue, it's natural -- the cycle of life that brings birth, death, and rebirth. It's something to celebrate as part of the human experience. Still others see death as a grand foe. They wage a war against it with syringes or ointments or foods stripped of fun and flavor. But no matter what approach we take -- whether we explain death away or try to outrun it -- that yawning cave still waits for us at the end of our life's journey.
Humanity -- with all of its approaches to death -- understands, at least subconsciously, that death is unnatural. Something is wrong with a human body deprived of God's breath.
Death is not natural. The road we humans walk -- the one that always terminates in death -- was not the road God made for us in the beginning. When the trees of Eden still dripped with the morning's first dew, humanity was immortal. The Creator had fashioned our race himself, kneeling in the mud and shaping beings from the dust -- dirt lings, if you will -- to look like him. When that human's chest rose for the first time, it did so with a breath expelled from God's own lungs.
So humanity's road was established -- the road God wanted us to walk was never supposed to end -- and certainly not in death. It would win around the globe, beginning life and order and peace to every place it crossed, but it would not end. Death was not our destiny. Only life heaped upon more life.
And more than that, God wanted to walk that road with his new dirt lings. The first time we see him act after he rests from his days of making, he's come to walk with humans. To be with them. To enjoy their company in the cool of the day. The immortal God hand-in-hand with our immortal race.
Our experience of death and all the terror and trauma the life before it brings with it was never meant for humanity. Our genes, worn thin through the years that death is an enemy, not a friend. When the chest stills and eyes close and mouth parts to release one final puff of air, the very nature of humanness crumbles apart. We call it natural to ease our minds.
God never intended his divine race of representatives to grow weak and frail and return to the clay from which he crafted us. God gifted us immortality. But our first father and mother chose death.
In that day, our mother and father chose this road we walk. This road that takes the bright hope of childhood and flings it to the night sky, promising a place among the stars but really just snuffing it out in the biting cold of a winter wind. This road that grinds our feet, knees, belly, heart, and head to dust. So that, by the time we reach death's yawning maw, we crumble like the dirt lings we are.
This road is our inheritance. Willed to us by parents who thought they were choosing the better path. And we choose like them when we challenge God for mastery of this life. We try to build like our Creator, but fail like our father. We cannot kiss life into dust. The doors of Eden closed behind us, and we have only death to look forward to the end.
ADAM'S CHOICE AND ADAM'S ROAD.
The human race has wrestled across the centuries with why we die. Some would argue, it's natural -- the cycle of life that brings birth, death, and rebirth. It's something to celebrate as part of the human experience. Still others see death as a grand foe. They wage a war against it with syringes or ointments or foods stripped of fun and flavor. But no matter what approach we take -- whether we explain death away or try to outrun it -- that yawning cave still waits for us at the end of our life's journey.
Humanity -- with all of its approaches to death -- understands, at least subconsciously, that death is unnatural. Something is wrong with a human body deprived of God's breath.
Death is not natural. The road we humans walk -- the one that always terminates in death -- was not the road God made for us in the beginning. When the trees of Eden still dripped with the morning's first dew, humanity was immortal. The Creator had fashioned our race himself, kneeling in the mud and shaping beings from the dust -- dirt lings, if you will -- to look like him. When that human's chest rose for the first time, it did so with a breath expelled from God's own lungs.
So humanity's road was established -- the road God wanted us to walk was never supposed to end -- and certainly not in death. It would win around the globe, beginning life and order and peace to every place it crossed, but it would not end. Death was not our destiny. Only life heaped upon more life.
And more than that, God wanted to walk that road with his new dirt lings. The first time we see him act after he rests from his days of making, he's come to walk with humans. To be with them. To enjoy their company in the cool of the day. The immortal God hand-in-hand with our immortal race.
Our experience of death and all the terror and trauma the life before it brings with it was never meant for humanity. Our genes, worn thin through the years that death is an enemy, not a friend. When the chest stills and eyes close and mouth parts to release one final puff of air, the very nature of humanness crumbles apart. We call it natural to ease our minds.
God never intended his divine race of representatives to grow weak and frail and return to the clay from which he crafted us. God gifted us immortality. But our first father and mother chose death.
In that day, our mother and father chose this road we walk. This road that takes the bright hope of childhood and flings it to the night sky, promising a place among the stars but really just snuffing it out in the biting cold of a winter wind. This road that grinds our feet, knees, belly, heart, and head to dust. So that, by the time we reach death's yawning maw, we crumble like the dirt lings we are.
This road is our inheritance. Willed to us by parents who thought they were choosing the better path. And we choose like them when we challenge God for mastery of this life. We try to build like our Creator, but fail like our father. We cannot kiss life into dust. The doors of Eden closed behind us, and we have only death to look forward to the end.
0 Comments
0 Shares
29 Views
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek
हिन्दी