Tiger is our tabby cat. She’s old, but lovely. She snuggles on my lap when I read. She runs out to greet us when we come home. That is to say, she used to. Whenever we pulled in the driveway she was there to say hi, running up beside the car. Until one day… she ran too far and the Subaru liberty bumped as I hit her.

She cowered in the bushes as I leapt out of the car, then she bolted down the drain. She was clearly hurt, but we didn’t know how badly. That Saturday afternoon was especially long. We hoped for Tiger to come home, meowing for dinner, wanting a cuddle.

But the afternoon turned into evening. Occasionally I opened the front door and walked around, calling her name. But she didn’t return. Tiger was dead. I had killed her! She shouldn’t have run in front of the car. Just before we went to bed, I opened the back door and called, ‘Tiger. Here puss puss puss.’ And in she ran, back from the dead, past may legs and into the living room. She was alive.

Cats may have nine lives, but the Bible reminds us that we have two. One very brief life between our birth and our death. And one life that goes on forever. Imagine that every grain of sand on the beach is 100 years. The life we live right now is one grain of sand. The life after this life is the rest of the beach. How we respond to Jesus now determines our forever.

Ben Allen