Spiders

I never liked spiders.

They are creepy and icky and nasty.

I feel like my response to spiders is fairly average.  If I notice one in its natural habitat (outside), I avoid it, keep my distance, or maybe use a stick to knock its web down if it's in my way.  But if the spider has invaded my space (inside), their demise is imminent.  If I'm feeling brave or if it's a particularly small spider, I'll deal with it myself with a tissue.  If it's of any decent size or if I'm just not feeling up for it, the appearance of the spider is meet with cries for assistance from whoever may be within earshot, particularly if there are any males in the house.

There was one particular occasion of note when I was able to coexist with a spider.  In the house where I grew up there was once a spider that built its web in the bathroom.  Since it wasn't too big, I tried to dispose of it myself, but it escaped into the crack between the counter and the wall.  This distressed me, since the only thing worse than seeing a spider is knowing that there is one nearby that you can't see anymore.  But there was nothing I could do.  The spider later rebuilt its web, but once again escaped my attempts to rid myself of its presence.  There was only one thing left that I could think of to do.  I named the spider.  Its name was Mr. Creepy, and we had an uneasy truce until Mr. Creepy disappeared a couple weeks later and was never seen again.

Fast forward many years to when Jesse and I were moving into our new house.  Well, new to us.  It's actually a very old house.  It has a lot of character, and it is already feeling like home, but one of the first thoughts I had when I saw it was that it was the kind of house that would have a lot of spiders.  I was right.  It doesn't help that it wasn't lived in for many months before we moved in, and it also doesn't help that none of the windows have screens, so if we want to let in any fresh air or try to cool things down in the evenings (it gets so hot upstairs when it's a sunny day!) we also end up letting in a lot of little critters too.

Our first few weeks in the new house involved my usual attitude of "death to all spiders", but something was brewing in the back of my mind.  You see, I don't particularly like killing things.  I'm not a vegetarian, but I have been struggling with the concept of animals being raised purely to be killed.  And I certainly don't support meat animals being raised in inhumane conditions like they so often are.  I also don't agree with animals being killed needlessly or for sport.

The problem with this was becoming evident: Where do you draw the line?  At what point is the creature small enough that its life doesn't matter anymore?  Why was I picking and choosing what was ok to kill and what wasn't?  I'd be very sad to crush a bumblebee or a ladybug, but why did I consider killing spiders to be ok just because they are ugly and scary?  It's still something I think about a lot.

So I decided to change something.  I stopped killing the spiders.  Some of the nastier ones I trapped and set loose outside, but others I just let be.  And a strange thing happened.  They aren't as scary now.  It's true, I still don't particularly like spiders.  I still think they are creepy and ugly.  But I don't freak out whenever I see one.  I don't automatically think that I have to kill it.  I have found that we can coexist.

I think that this is about something bigger than just spiders.  There is a lot of fear and hatred in our world.  Yes, people fear and hate spiders, but even more tragically, people fear and hate other people.  We fear those who are different than us, we feel threatened by their presence, and so we kill them.  Sometimes the killing is literal.  But for most of us it's much more subtle.  We kill their character, we gossip and slander, we label them and ostracize them, we deny our common humanity and forget that they are unique people, with their own story, made in the image of God.

The tragedy is that fear is a self-perpetuating cycle.  When we act in fear we reinforce that fear and make it even stronger.  Just as fearing spiders led me to kill spiders, which made me fear spiders even more, when we kill others (literally or figuratively) we become even more afraid of them and the cycle of fear and violence continues.

To stop the cycle, we have to stop acting in fear.  We have to stop supporting violence.  Violence can never cure fear, it will only promote it.  I know, it's hard not to act out of fear.  Fear is a natural response to danger that's designed to keep us safe.  But it becomes a problem when we are afraid of the wrong things, and when we respond to that fear with violence.  God has not called us to be a people of fear, but a people of love, like Jesus risking everything to welcome those who society fears and rejects and kills.

It's not an easy calling, to follow our Prince of Peace, but lately I have been encouraged.  I didn't expect to ever coexist with spiders, or have anything other than hatred for them.  Yet, all I did was stop killing them, and the change happened on its own.

Let's stop responding to our fear with violence, and perhaps together we can change the cycle of fear, hatred, and violence that we see in the world around us.