Three Lenten Anecdotes
On Becoming Like Spiders and Flies
As I knelt in prayer, I suddenly noticed the finest thread of a spider web stretching across the space between the wall and a piece of the marble altar. Though barely visible on a normal day, the shafts of golden hour sunlight gently illuminated this tiny intrusion in the house of the Lord.
A few days later, in a different church, a slight movement in the sanctuary caught my eye. Searching for the source of the movement, I finally spotted a tiny fly, flitting near the golden candlesticks.
Spiders and flies.
These are not noble beasts. These are not creatures fit for the presence of a King.
Rather, they belong in dirty barns, smelly dumpsters, deserted buildings, and dusty attics.
Yet in spite of the incongruence their presence had in the house of the Lord, I found my heart was greatly moved.
For what a blessing it is to dwell fearlessly in the house of the Lord!
Only something small like a tiny spider or fly can sneak into the holy closeness and hide itself in the peace of God.
And so, friends, we must become like spiders and flies.
Like the spider making its home in the marble altar, we must become small. Only by becoming small will we be able to find harbor in the heart of the Lord.
Like both the spider and the fly, we must be bold. Do not be afraid to run to the Lord, small and lowly though you may be. Perhaps we would be better fit to dwell in a compost heap, but instead, we must cast aside the false humility of hiding, and recklessly run to Him.
Like the spider persistently flitting around the candles, we must never be afraid of pestering the Lord. He wants us to fly towards Him. He wants us to gently buzz and draw the gaze of others into the sanctuary.
Yes, we must become like spiders and flies.
While in Adoration, I notice that in certain places the edges and backs of the wooden pews are worn down completely. In their current state, the stain is all but forgotten. But the worn-down pews do not seem shabby to me. No, rather, they are lovely.
They are a perfect example of the beauty to be found in simple things.
I do not want to pray at a perfectly finished and reupholstered kneeler. Rather, the battered and lowly pew connects me to other sinners. The faded and worn off finish reminds me that each of us are united in our humble request for mercy.
Rather than keeping me complacent in my self-righteousness, these simple pews call me to imitate the tax collector who boldly declares, “O God, be merciful to me a sinner.”
My goddaughter looks up at the brick wall in the rustic coffee shop, where two screws can be spotted, perhaps once meant to hold something up, but now seemingly forgotten.
Seeing the screws, she asks, “What are those?” I look up and say something like, “Oh, those are screws, they probably hung something up.”
Without missing a beat, she replies, “Oh, just like Jesus.” At first, I’m confused, but then I almost choke up. I respond, “Yep, they’re like the nails in the cross.”
Then, with the truthful bluntness of a child, she states in a matter-of-fact tone, “They pin Jesus to the wood.” Taken off guard, but greatly moved, all I can do is agree.
Yes, yes, they do.