Entropy

I read a secular fantasy once in which the heroes battled not a villain, but entropy. Never meant to exist, brought into the world by a wayward being, it was the slow death of the entire universe. The heroes knew they could never stop entropy, but they continued to strive against it, hoping to slow it for a moment.*

Entropy. Energy to no energy. Order to chaos. Working to broken. Alive to dead.

My apiary was a scene of destruction on Thursday.

It always interested and saddened me how close that premise came to the truth while remaining so far from it. Yet I know that all of us, every day, wage our own wars against entropy. We grieve its effects, large and small. Sorrows as disparate as a broken toy, a garden taken over by weeds, or the death of a spouse or child, they all represent the entropy sin brings into our world. We rage against it. We wish that, even for a moment, we could slow it. That’s especially true when entropy seems to speed up and takes something from us before we believe it should—or if we feel guilt for helping it along.

A colony of dead bees--roughly 40,000-60,000 bees.

These were my thoughts as I surveyed the scene of destruction at my small apiary on Thursday. I only have—had—three hives, and two of them were gone. The beekeeping term is “dead-out.” It would have been a sickening sight under any circumstances, but more so because I knew I could have prevented it. The mites I had treated too late, combined with late winter weather and low food stores, had worked together to kill two whole colonies, and it was my fault for not reading the signs.

The bees of the remaining colony, a living reminder that life does go on.

Thursday was not a good day.

My mood was not much brighter yesterday. Good Friday—a day that is good for me, a sinner for whom Christ’s blood was shed, but also a day of shadow and introspection. A day of sorrow as we remember the sacrifice of the ultimate Passover Lamb before we prepare to celebrate His resurrection on Sunday. This year, with the world topsy-turvy, it has an added layer of shadow. Today our family will go to an empty country church to record an Easter service for those who usually gather there. To say it will feel odd is understating the situation drastically.

But we will go there, because Easter isn’t cancelled. Nothing happening in the world right now negates the power of Christ’s death and resurrection.

“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:38-39).

What was this love?

“…but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8).

We can’t stop entropy. We can’t stop death, disease, or decay. We can sometimes work to slow them, but the power of giving life is not in our hands. It is such a wonderful comfort to know it doesn’t have to be. Yesterday we remembered how Christ overcame sin for our sakes. Tomorrow we celebrate His victory over death.

“Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live’” (John 11:25).

Another reminder of new life--the new chicks we got Thursday. Appropriately, these chicks are Easter eggers.

*I'm referencing Diane Duane's work, specifically So You Want to Be a Wizard and The Book of Night with Moon.