Photo by Griffin Taylor on Unsplash
One ordinary day in July, I came home from work and was immediately greeted by my two oldest daughters. Jumping and shouting, they told me I had to come see something right then. I put my bag down, and they led me out the door to our front garden for the presentation. I was immediately alarmed by what I saw. A large (very large) spider had made a home in our vitex bush.
I have always hated spiders more than almost anything. But my daughters were captivated. They told me it was called a yellow orb spider and was actually very good for our garden. As I stood there, trying to look brave for my daughters and warm up to this creature, something about her bright colors, strange form, and intricate, uniquely-designed web began to fascinate even me.
For the rest of the summer, our front yard became a front-row seat to a live-action Discovery Channel special. Our daughters would check on Vivian (named after her vitex home) every day. They eagerly showed her off to any friends, family, or neighbors who would come by. They regularly drove Kristen and I to our phones with questions about her. We got to see Vivian do some fascinating (and sometimes hard-to-stomach) things like catch, trap, and eat various insects, meet a husband, and build a nest. Even I grew to love Vivian and began to check on her each time I left the house.
A couple of weeks ago, I came home to find Vivian hatching her babies from their eggs. It was truly one of the wildest things I’ve ever seen. There were hundreds of them. And one-by-one, each baby would spring forth and immediately swing away like microscopic spider-men. It was the middle of a busy day. But for those couple minutes I was all alone, in the peaceful quiet and sunshine, just watching this amazing thing happen with my own eyes. It was glorious. But I was also sad because I knew from Charlotte’s Web that our family’s little adventure was probably coming to an end. Sure enough, the very next day, Vivian was gone.
Why do I tell this story, at the risk of grossing-out or traumatizing some of my fellow arachnophobes in the process? Because the saga of Vivian’s web reminded me that little bits of glory like it are all around us all the time. They are the very handiwork of our Maker. Holy phenomenon trying to interrupt us for just a little bit and say, “Isn’t God holy? Isn’t God powerful? Isn’t God sovereign?”
“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no tongue, nor any language, that cannot understand their words. Their song goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world.” - Psalm 19:1-4
God’s song is all around us. But it’s easy for grown-ups like you and me to grow deaf to it. As another fall picks up steam, there is a renewed risk for our day-to-day routines to engineer us into thinking that the things most deserving of our attention are on laptop screens, in spreadsheets, between newsprint pages, or on the other side of the “Next Episode” button. I pray that God would make you and me a little more like my daughters. Always on the hunt for glory. And always ready to savor and call attention to what is found.
