Captive rats, I’ve learned, almost always die of cancer. It is an odd inevitability. Most rodents in the wild don’t live long enough to face such fates; the world is a gauntlet of predators waiting to snap them up. But in captivity, where no hawk or feral cat can reach them, something else seems to intervene.
Tumors bloom. Their tiny bodies betray them. Rats remain mortal, no matter how cozy the habitat.
I can’t help but find it poetic in a grim, cosmic way. Here are animals engineered for predation, born to sprint and scurry and outwit death at every turn. And yet, in the absence of chase, death finds another way in. Cancer, red in tooth and claw, becomes the predator that they can’t escape.
As we all know, humans aren’t so different. Long after we traded the fear of tigers and bears for the security of streetlights and locked doors, the same predator crept in—quieter, insidious, and woven into the fabric of our own biology. Cancer became the common denominator, stalking both man and rat with equal indifference. It doesn’t matter how much we’ve padded ourselves with modernity. In the end, both species find themselves facing the same invisible hunter, proof that no amount of progress can fully outrun death.
Despite the undeniable reality of death, humans continue to strive against it. A prime example is Bryan Johnson, a 46-year-old tech entrepreneur and millionaire, who has dedicated years to one singular pursuit: defying death.[1] To achieve this, he has invested over $4 million into a life-extension initiative called Blueprint, where he entrusts a team of doctors to make every health-related decision on his behalf. These doctors, using a vast array of data, craft a detailed regimen aimed at cheating death. His routine includes taking 111 pills a day and wearing a cap that emits red light to his scalp. While I’m neither a medical expert nor a prophet, I can confidently say that Bryan Johnson will die.
The Bible makes it clear that death entered the world through human sin, affecting not only Adam but all of humanity. Genesis speaks of this death as both spiritual and physical (Gen 2:17; 3:19). This makes death the ultimate certainty in human existence. Even if science finds a way to eliminate most terminal diseases, including cancer, death will still find a path, just as it did with my pet rats.
For Christians, our focus shouldn’t be on avoiding death, but on making the most of the time we have on earth. This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive to alleviate suffering or seek cures for disease—we should. But we must recognize that death, in one form or another, remains inevitable. Romans 6:23 reminds us that “the wages of sin is death”—that’s the grim truth of life in a fallen world.
Yet the Gospel offers us a greater truth: death is not the end. Jesus’ resurrection marked the first time someone rose from the grave never to die again. In that victory, Christ conquered sin and death, removing its sting (1 Corinthians 15:56). Because of him, we stand before God not condemned by our sin but clothed in the righteousness of Christ.
You wouldn’t expect rats to point us to the cross. But those small, scrappy survivors—never far from their predators, whether cat or cancer—remind us that no creature escapes death through effort or wit. The Christian hope is not merely in living longer, but in living redeemed—and in trusting that, on the other side of death, there is a faithful hand waiting to make all things new.
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