Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life because of me will find it. (Matthew 10:39)
Winter came to a close as sunshine warmed the soil after a rain shower. Moisture seeped into a dormant seed, and within days, a pale stalk pushed through the loam. In the night, the newborn plant was discovered by the eraser-of-a-nose on a young rabbit. Delicate whiskers twitched as the rabbit opened his tiny mouth, and chomped off the plant shoot.
A misty dawn found the rabbit still nibbling buds. In mid bite, a hawk snapped him into steely talons. The keen eyed bird was anxious to bring her prey to her downy eyas, frantic with hunger. But in her absence a falconer collected the chicks to train for sport hunting. He whisked them into the city, where his freckled son belted out, “I get the big one, I get the big one.”
It would seem for every creature, including man, that “the full exertion of all their faculties and all their energies is required to preserve their own existence and provide for that of their infant offspring” (A. R. Wallace). It’s the way of the food chain.
Jesus invites me to step out of nature, and forgo the struggle for physical life. He asks me to lose my life, sacrifice for others, and scorn personal advancement, so I can have life in the Spirit. He requires me to be more than an animal.
The true apex of the “Pyramid of Organisms” is where, by grace, my flesh succumbs to my spirit. And so, at the point where my old nature pushes through the loam, it must be chomped off, snatched up, and abducted. It must die, because my spirit only grows closer to God when there is death in the old me.
Prayer: Jesus, help me take my place at the head of creation by dying to self.