I’ve seen tarantulas down at the end of our drive.

I’ll spot one moving regally, queen of the arachnids, creeping towards supper through the tall grasses.

I’ll watch fascinated, grateful that a large spider doesn’t hunt me down for dinner.

But I have my own predators.

The fallen angel and his followers who prowl around the world seeking the ruin of souls.

For me, leaving a tarantula well enough alone makes sense and is easy since I am not its prey.

For me giving the fallen angels who seek the ruination of my soul a wide berth isn’t quite so easy.

In my human-ness I feel privileged to be covered by Christ’s redemption even as I fall prey to the enemy.

Sitting on my screened in front porch one evening enjoying a storm, I watched an unnervingly large spider  emerge from the eaves and crawl down the other side of the screen.

A tarantula whom I suspected lived in the black earth beneath my house foundation.


Perhaps she had placed her egg-sac under my roof for protection from the torrential rain or beating sun.

Perhaps he was lying in wait, like the highway patrolman at the end of the winery driveway on Saturday afternoons, ready to pounce.

She was moving down the screen slowly, a deadly, eight legged creature uncannily resembling a well made furry toy one would give to a child.

I watched, all at once menaced and awed as he joined forces with the night and melted toward an unwitting prey oblivious, in that instant, to its imminent danger.

She took her meal without a fuss and carried on downward.


I could not help but compare it to my own adversary

engulfing me when my guard is down…

Only, unlike the unsuspecting prey consumed by the spider,

I have a light that keeps me from the power of darkness,

Christ’s victory over death.


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2019-06-06 21:26:24 Reply

Oooooooooooo! Gross!

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