Spider Web Theology

We were eating breakfast on the porch the other day when a fluttering net of sparkling threads caught our attention in the back 40 (urban speak for the 40 feet between our back door and the alley). Transfixed, I promptly ignored my motherly mandate to not leave the table before a meal is completed and grabbed the camera instead. Scrambled eggs and toast can wait, but not so the angle of the morning sun.

How gorgeous, this dastardly trap. Some poor creature is sure to land on the wrong side of the breakfast table for one very delighted spider.

I, of course, believe myself immune to spider webs, giant creature that I am.


That very afternoon I was returning from the compost pile back to the kitchen when I walked FACE FIRST into a cobweb haphazardly strewn across the top of the swing set. I was too busy avoiding, uh, potential ‘puppy piles’ to pay attention to any other dangers. Dear Husband was promptly recruited to help remove the sticky strands from my eyeglasses and hair.

And then there was our camping trip to Spider Base & Boot Camp earlier this summer. A casual hike in the woods the evening we arrived quickly revealed Welcome Webs from an entire army of multi-legged, nearly invisible soldiers. Our flashlights were miserably inadequate to help us avoid the silent entrapments hanging from nearly every tree branch. Such a sight we must have been, thrashing and thwacking, flapping and flailing, all to no avail. How cunning of the enemy, to remain unseen.

There is theology in these spider webs.

...How quickly I become enticed by the promise of that which looks beautiful at first glance.

...How often I miss the dangers around me because I am too focused on avoiding the 'puppy piles' of life.

...How easily my human senses fail me in fighting dangers hidden in the dark.

And the spiritual counter-attacks to these sticky traps?

Know the truth.

Stay alert.

Don’t fight an unseen enemy with human resources alone.

These are lessons I am slow to learn, but they are good lessons, important lessons.

For interrupted breakfasts, good campfire stories, and lessons woven by spiders,