By David S. Hogan

We all know the story—

Adam and Eve, a garden paradise, a forbidden fruit, and a flaming sword that keeps humanity from ever returning to the Tree of Life. But what if that sword wasn’t just symbolic?

What if we’re still carrying its edge… inside us?

🧬 The Uncomfortable Truth of Cancer

Let’s talk about the beast: cancer. Not fun, not friendly, and not foreign. It’s not a virus from the outside or a bacterial sneak attack—it’s us, turned against ourselves.

Cancer is our own cells doing what they were made to do—divide, grow, repair—except now they won’t stop. The brakes are gone. The self-destruct switch is jammed. They’re not evil; they’re just… unbound.

That’s what makes cancer terrifying. And fascinating.

And maybe even—necessary.

🕰️ Telomeres, Time, and Built-in Mortality

Enter the humble telomere—the protective cap at the end of your chromosomes. Think of them like the little plastic tips on your shoelaces. Every time your cells divide, those tips wear down a bit. Eventually, they get too short, and the cell dies or becomes senescent (zombie mode). This is one of the core mechanisms of aging.

But there’s an enzyme—telomerase—that repairs telomeres. It basically resets the death clock.

And in most humans? It’s tightly regulated. Locked down. Barely active outside of early development and a few specialized cells.

But guess who has telomerase active in almost all their cells?

🦞 Lobsters. They’re the crustacean Methuselahs of the sea. They don’t age the way we do. Their cells stay fresh and feisty. But even lobsters eventually die—not from old age, but from the wear and tear of life… or the biological tax of molting gone wrong.

🧨 The Cost of Immortality

So why can’t we just pump ourselves full of telomerase and live forever?

Because telomerase is a cancer accelerant.

Activate it too broadly and you’re playing Russian roulette with your genome. That same enzyme that could keep you young also lets rogue cells go full supervillain—dividing endlessly, invading tissues, and bypassing death.

We age because it’s safer.

We die because unchecked immortality invites destruction.

We grow old not because God forgot to make us better—but because He may have loved us enough not to.

🔥 A Flaming Sword in Flesh

Genesis 3:24 says:

“After He drove the man out, He placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the Tree of Life.”

What if that sword was more than symbolic?

What if, when sin entered, the very biology of mankind changed? What if telomerase was part of the Tree of Life’s blessing, and in being banished, we were cut off from its regenerative power?

What if the “flaming sword” now lives in our cells, embedded in every decaying telomere, reminding us we’re not meant to stay here forever?

📜 The Days of the Patriarchs

Before the Flood, people lived centuries.

Methuselah? 969 years.

Noah? 950.

Even Abraham lived to 175.

But in Genesis 6:3, God says:

“My Spirit shall not abide in man forever, for he is flesh: his days shall be 120 years.”

And after the flood? Lifespans drop. Rapidly.

Coincidence? Or did something fundamental change?

Maybe our genetic structure—our ability to repair, regenerate, resist decay—was diminished by divine decree. Not as punishment, but as protection.

🙏 The Gift of Mortality

As strange as it sounds, mortality is mercy. A broken world filled with immortal beings would be hellish. Imagine tyrants who never die. Evil that can’t decay. Suffering that doesn’t end.

Death gives life urgency. Meaning. A horizon.

And in Christ, death becomes not a wall, but a doorway.

Romans 6:23 tells us:

“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

You want immortality? Don’t chase telomerase.

Chase Jesus.

Our biology tells a story. A story of limits. Of loss. Of longing for Eden.

But we are not without hope.

The same God who closed the gate to the Tree of Life became the way to it again.

Through Jesus, the flaming sword does not bar us—it welcomes us.

Prayer:

Lord, thank You for the beautiful mystery of our design. For the wisdom in our limitations, and the grace woven into every strand of our DNA.

Help us not to fear death, but to trust in the life You’ve promised beyond it. May we live each day aware of our mortality, yet empowered by the eternal hope You give.

Let our aging bodies be a reminder—not of decay, but of the redemption to come. In Jesus’ name, amen.

This week, reflect on your own limits. Not with frustration, but with gratitude.

You weren’t made to last forever on this side of eternity—but you were made for forever with Him.

Live like someone who’s just passing through.