If you could have any super power you wanted, what would it be? Super strength? Telekinesis? Invisibility? Our answers vary wildly, but most of us know exactly what we'd want. But you always get that one nerd who applies realistic logic to unrealistic scenarios. "Well if you could fly faster than the speed of light, you wouldn't be able to see, since light reflected back at us is how we see".
As I sat at the bottom of my drive one night, I became one such nerd. As a wildlife photographer, it brought me great joy to learn that my street is frequently visited by a group of foxes. The problem is, they're both wild animals, and nocturnal. This makes the task of photographing them very difficult.
I am fortunate in that my house has a street light right at the top of my driveway, however, and so I formulated a plan. I began leaving food out, usually some form of meat like chicken or ham slices, in the hope they would not only visit my street more often, but would also come to associate my house, and more specifically me, with food. This has been moderately successful. I have identified four individual foxes, and have even given two of them names. This one is Osteen, who I named because he occasionally takes as much bait as he can fit in his mouth.
But as I write this, the foxes do not trust me. Osteen is perhaps the most trusting. He still flees if I reach for my camera, but he'll let me talk to him while he chooses which pieces of bait he wants. Other foxes, by contrast, will not even approach the bait if they see me, or if they do, they rush up to the bait, swipe it, and bolt.
One night, they were being particularly shy. Whereas I usually have to wait a maximum of 20 minutes for at least one to take a piece of bait, I was outside for nearly an hour and a half before I finally saw one peek around the corner. It saw the bait, but it also saw me, and without taking so much as a morsel, off it went into the night. So of course I got to thinking about the superpower question. Clearly, the ability to talk to animals would be especially useful right now. My mission to befriend and photograph the foxes would become a lot easier if I could tell them where the food is coming from, why I'm always watching it but never taking it (and occasionally throw it to them), and maybe even asking them what they'd most like me to leave out for them.
But the trouble with the power to talk to animals is this is about as far as the conversation would go. In fact, it wouldn't even go that far. They have no word for "chicken" or "ham", so how could they say "I like chicken more than ham"? I know more about their preferences just from watching Osteen choose an egg over a slice of chicken than I could know by asking them, in their language, what they like.
If I had the power to talk to animals, I could easily make the foxes realise I'm not a threat, but am a source of food. I could maybe even train them like I train my dog. But the reality is, I could not communicate anything to the foxes with the superpower that I can't already, nor could they tell me anything they can't already. The most such a power would do is increase the speed at which the message is received.
Now, why does this matter? What relevance could criticising a hypothetical superpower possibly have to the Bible? The reason it is relevant to Bible Brain is simply that it applies to all animals except one: Us. There is only one creature made in God's image. Animals are certainly capable of amazing things. Some of them have even been documented making tools. But none of them could sit down with us and discuss morality, or music, or Theism, or the meaning of life. They don't think as we do because they are not designed as we are. Foxes, dolphins, whales, parrots, magpies, apes, these are all very intelligent animals. But none of them are made in the image of God. We're special. That's why we can talk to people of different ethnicities, but not to animals.
Of course, this brings with it a certain amount of responsibility. The foxes are not morally accountable. They can get away with things I can't. For example, they frequently hop over my neighbor's walls into their garden without invitation or consent. If I did that, I could be prosecuted for trespassing. But it goes further even than that. Animals, put simply, cannot sin. In fact, even the worst things they do come down to us.
When God first created the heavens and the Earth, He set us down as the federal heads. "Then God said, “Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. Then God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it; have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”" (Genesis 1:26-28).
Because of this dominion, when we fell, creation fell too (Romans 8:22). Animals which were originally vegetarian (Genesis 1:30) became corrupt (Genesis 6:12). Death entered the world, and it soon became a horrible place to live out our temporary lives.
But it doesn't stop there. See, ultimately, the penalty for sin is separation from God. That is, Hell, which scripture calls "the second death" (Revelation 2:11; 20:6, 14; 21:8). But God did not design us for separation. Rather, He designed us for a close relationship with Him. Thus, rather than deliver us over to death the moment we merited it, He sent Jesus to live a perfect life, yet experience death on our behalf. Jesus died on the cross and rose again so that all who confess Him as Lord, and believe He rose from the dead, will not perish, but instead have eternal life. This offer is available to all who are descended from Adam and Eve.