I pondered this great feat for a few blocks, seeking to come
up with my own theory of construction. I
knew somehow the spider got assistance in the construction of this tight rope
of a web. Did it climb to a high point
on the tree and jump? Did it attach one
side of its thread to one side of the tree and then make the long journey down
the trunk, across the path, and up the other side? Did it hitch a ride on a host who unwittingly
aided the spider in covering the distance?
All these seemed implausible to me. I did not believe that a spider could jump
that far, or maintain the pristine condition of its web while dragging it down
one tree and up another. I knew it had
some form of assistance, but did not believe it hitched a ride on a bird, squirrel
or human. After much consideration, I
came to the conclusion whatever the answer was the wind hand to play a role.
When later I checked the internet I found out that I was on the
right track. A spider relies on the wind
to carry the filament across great distances.
The spider will form the protein structure using its spinnerets. It allows this to be drawn out by gravity and
the breeze and it is allowed to blow in the prevailing wind until it attaches
to another point. This process is called
kiting or ballooning, and through it a spider can span distances much greater
than the ten feet my web was stretched.
Some species of spider are able to build these bridge threads, as they
are known, across rivers. This tread then
becomes the anchor point for the web the spider will spin.
I couldn’t help but marvel at how great of a distance the
spider is able to cover with very little effort. How much toil and danger it has avoided by
relying on the wind, rather than its own effort or the help of an unsuspecting
host. All this was possible because it
was willing to release its thread and trust the wind to carry it where it
needed to go. In doing so, it also
releases control to the breeze, relying on it to land its silk wire in the appropriate
spot.
How much we could learn from the spider. How often, when we find ourselves in the
position of needing to cross a great span in life, do we find ourselves toiling
to control the process or make it happen?
How unwilling we are to release control, trusting the Spirit to lead us
to the right place, in the right time.
Because we are unwilling to trust in the process we expend
much more energy than is necessary and find ourselves engaged in activities
that do nothing more than tire us out. This
expended energy, often has as it byproduct of worry, anxiety, and stress. While we are called to rest and trust, we find
ourselves living in a state of exhaustion that is given birth in a deep suspicion
that God will not come through.
I have a feeling the spider is not stressing out over the
process. In fact, if he spins out a
bridge thread and it does not attach somewhere he may ingest the thread,
recycling the proteins, and then spin out another thread, again asserting his trust
in the fact the wind will carry it where it ought to go.
What would it be for us to live like this? When we cannot see how the distance will be
bridged, or when it seems like what we were counting on did not come through, what
would it be to renew our trust in the power of the Spirit to move on our behalf
rather than trying to manipulate the outcome in our own strength. What would it be to reprocess our
disappointments into another strand of trust which we offer up to the Spirit to
do with as he sees fit?
I think the people around you would wonder what is going on
in your head. They might raise questions
regarding the wisdom of your actions, and make comments which reveal how
foolish they think you are.
I think you would have your own doubts and fear that it
might all lead to nothing. What if you
trusted and God did not come through? Where would you be then?
I do not know what it is like to be a spider, but I do know apart
from the wind, there is no physical way an arachnid can span such great
distances. It is useless for it to toil
in its own efforts. In some sense, when
it comes to spinning its web, apart from the wind it can do nothing.
It is the same with us, apart from the power of the Spirit,
we can do nothing. This reality is
masked by our ability to busy ourselves trying to make things happen and
control the circumstances of our life. All
this effort leads to nothing in the economy of the Kingdom of God. It is useless to toil in our own effort.
Still, many of us are unwilling to stand still long enough to
allow the Spirit to carry us to where we ought to be.
How it must feel, as a spider, to have trusted the wind to
carry your bridge line and to find that it is anchored securely in a place you
never could have gone in your own strength.
How wonderful it must be to find that your trust has not been broken and
your hope has not been in vain. What
must it be like to enter into this kind of rest, to lay down your toil, and yet
find yourself doing more than is possible in your own strength? In this place there is no anxiety, worry, or striving. There is only the power of the wind and
willingness.
Oh how I long to live this life. My wife and I currently find ourselves in a
place where we can exercise this capacity.
We will allow our bridge line to be drawn out by the circumstances of
our life and caught by the prevailing wind of the Spirit. We will trust that he will anchor it in just
the right place, somewhere we could not in our own strength. In the process, we will find our trust has
been well placed, and our hope is indeed secure. We will learn what it is in rest to do far
more than we ever could in our own effort.
What other choice is there?
Just like the spider, this is how we were made to live.
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