Tangled Web

When my daughter was young, she was terrified of bugs of any kind. If she saw a bug, she would scream loud enough to shake the walls of the house. She was especially afraid of spiders ... big spiders, little spiders and in-between sized spiders. While I don't care much for bugs myself, I never had an over-the-top fear of them the way Meghann did. I say "did" because she's no longer afraid of bugs ... I'm not sure whether that's because she and her hubby now live in a small town that's sort of out in the country or because my son-in-law's lack of fear has rubbed off on her. Either way, I was amazed the last time I visited them and there was a large green bug of some sort on the concrete floor of the carport next to their house, and Meghann wasn't the least bit afraid of it (and I must admit, it was a big, weird-looking bug that creeped me out more than a little). I couldn't believe that my bug-fearing, screaming little girl just shrugged her shoulders and said, "It's just a bug, Mom ... good grief!"

Remember in my previous post when I wrote about finally caving in and telling a friend my biking and walking routes? To prove that God has a sense of humor and that He wants me to learn my lesson about relinquishing at least some of my stubborn will and independent spirit, something happened yesterday morning on my bike ride that came as close as anything ever has to making me call someone to come and get me. It was a cool morning, and I was cruising along at a pretty fast clip. I knew that I had a tough day ahead of me at work editing a massive technical document (about cow parasites ... and it ended up taking me 12 1/2 hours to complete), so I knew that I needed to ride to clear my mind before I headed to the office. It's staying dark longer each morning, and the sun hadn't even begun to rise on the horizon as I turned off the street and onto the trail to come home.

There's a little downhill section when I first hit the trail part of my morning ride, and by the time I get to that point, I am flat moving. I had my head down as I pedaled, watching the trail in front of me that was illuminated by the light on the front of my bike when it hit me. Or I hit it. Or we hit each other. No, I didn't smash a rabbit or a bobcat or a deer. I did, however, ride right into a massive spider web that stretched across the trail. And yes, I completely freaked out. Thankfully, I didn't go soaring over the handlebars ... but suffice it to say that my departure from my bike has left me quite sore and with a couple of gorgeous purple bruises on my hip. Had anyone been watching or listening to me as I rolled around on the grass trying to remove the sticky spider goo off of me as I screamed much like my daughter did when she was young, I'm sure they would have immediately called the police to come and take me away. For all the scenarios I've thought about in my mind of things that could happen to me while I'm out riding my bike in the dark, being attacked by a spider web was never one of them.

So here's the thing ... I haven't been able to get my web encounter out of my mind, and this afternoon it struck me ... that spider web came out of nowhere and wrapped itself all around me. Before I knew it, I was all tangled up in something that I couldn't even see ... something that caused a sudden stop in my journey ... something that was hard to get out of ... something that made me travel more cautiously for the rest of my ride home. There's a big, huge, gigantic lesson in getting caught in that tangled web, friends ... a big, huge, gigantic lesson. I think sin is a lot like a spider web ... sometimes it comes out of nowhere from a place I can't see, and it wraps itself all around me and is hard to get out of once I'm in the middle of it. Sin can take me from a peaceful, soothing journey to a sudden stop ... a stop that causes pain and wounds that can linger for a long while even after I've confessed and repented and started over. And if I'm smart ... if I pay attention ... if I look at the One Who will lead me home ... I'll travel more cautiously for the rest of the journey.

Help me to ride carefully, Lord ... tangled webs are stretched across lots and lots of trails in this life. Help me to look up and see You ... help me to ride carefully, God ... help me to ride carefully.