The Animal in Me

If ever I was to believe in the way of nature over the way of grace it would be because of who I am. In my natural state, I am not much different than an animal. I want to kill, I want to copulate. There really isn’t much more to it than that. I sustain myself through consumption. I am alive only because something else dies — it really is a dog eat dog world — So is it not unreasonable to think that the human-created God as a means to prevent his own extinction? It is reasonable but it is also awful. I don’t want to believe this. The blunt book of time, chance and matter that culminates in ultimate meaninglessness has no room for transcendence or love, there is no chapter for longing or courage, no place for dreams or destiny, there is no page in this story for hope, eternity or any of the deeper things. Granted, these urges, these desires, these instincts, the rough deadly, & uncaring world that is our home makes way for brute nature as the only story to be believed, but could there be another, equally reasonable way of seeing life? Yes, it’s a glorious story of hope and salvation, love and longing, peace and eternity. It’s a story worth shaping one’s life around. Believe the Better Story.