"Bruced!"

Robert the Bruce didn’t have a monopoly on spider meditation.

In common with countless other people, I hate the things.  I’m not really sure why, though; maybe it’s because they’re small and scurry so quickly to and fro.  Mice I can just about accept.  Once, before I moved to my present home, I watched one dashing back and forth on the kitchen worktops, before removing him for hygiene’s sake.  I recall thinking he was quite an attractive little character.  By contrast, spiders – with apologies to any arachnophile readers – are just plain ugly.

One day whilst standing in the bath, I noticed a tiny spider making a steady track across the ceiling.  As I watched it, I pondered.  Allowing for my many excursions, I reckoned that the spider probably spent more time in the flat than I did.  Would that rank him superior in occupancy, give him some authority over me?  Then I thought, if it wasn’t for me paying the rent, setting the heating and so on, he wouldn’t have such a pleasant time of it.

I compared the spider’s situation vis-à-vis me to mine vis-à-vis God.  I thought of God’s provision for us in this world that we laughingly call ‘ours’.  How different, for example, would our lives be if the sun were only a few degrees warmer or cooler?  This is far easier to imagine these days, with all the publicity about global warming, which could soon become a real threat to our accepted way of life.  I decided that this was a good illustration of the dependence of the small on the beneficence of the large, both in my flat and in the wider cosmos.

Then the spider made his big mistake, dropping on an almost invisible strand of web (just as I imagine the Bruce’s friend must have done in that cave all those centuries ago).  This one didn’t struggle to climb back up, however.  He just hung there, menacingly, at the end of the line: only a few inches in front of my face.  Calmly, I passed a hand above him, caught the web, and deftly dropped him down the plughole.  Goodbye, spider; hello, peace of mind.

Only … now I hate spiders even more for, after a praiseworthy lesson in divine provision, in his demise this little creature had reminded me of the horrible cruelty of my humanity, and how far we fall short of God’s standards: how much we deserve the fullness of His wrath.  The sixth Commandment says, “Thou shalt not kill.” (Ex. 20:13, KJV).  It is a teaching about the very sanctity of life, over and above the usual interpretation of ‘murder’.

Isaiah tells us, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out.” (Is. 42:3).  It’s a clear indication that God cares for the sick, the poor and the defenceless.  These verses refer to a ‘suffering servant’, and are generally accepted as a prophecy about Jesus.  They teach us characteristics of gentleness, encouragement, justice and truth.   Matthew quoted them immediately after Jesus had healed a man’s shrivelled hand in defiance of the Pharisees, whose view was that this shouldn’t have been done on the Sabbath (Mt. 12:18-21).

This is about far greater things than sparing the life of a spider.  Isaiah’s prophecy goes on to call all to serve God by many different sorts of kindness, to shine the light of His love on all around us (vv. 6-7).  But the death of that spider is a symbol of the way that we treat this obligation so lightly as we go about our lives of comparative luxury ... often ignoring it completely!  What chance of acquittal would we stand in the face of God’s judgment, if it were not for Jesus’ sacrifice to cancel out our sin?

Managing the Abattoir

I’m not a vegetarian.  I don’t think I could ever be one.  Although I love the magical flavours that a good veggie dish can offer, I wouldn’t like to be completely without the meat-and-veg option.  We are told that we are made in God’s image; on that basis - though it might be opening myself to a charge of blasphemy - I question whether or not He is a vegetarian.  That said, ...

Our home group has been following a Lent study that traces the history of sacrifice, as its title says, ‘From the Ram to the Lamb’.  It begins in the world of animal sacrifice.  Perfect specimens – ‘a male without defect’ (Leviticus 1:3 etc.) – were killed in a bid to restore men who had sinned to their place of fellowship with God.  

The sacrifices were based on the simple concept that behaviour contrary to God’s wishes was to be punished by death.  Such behaviour is what we call ‘sin’, and a good general summary is to be found in the Ten Commandments (see Exodus 20:1-17 or Deuteronomy 5:6-21).  In his letter to the Romans, Paul goes into great detail about sin and punishment, leading to his famous conclusion “the wages of sin is death ...” (Rom. 6:23).  It was this death, the death of the sinner himself, that was avoided by the animal sacrifices.

God didn’t want sacrifices.  The prophet Ezekiel was told to tell the Israelites, “I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live.” (Ez. 33:11).  The psalmist recognised the same truth. “You do not delight in sacrifice or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.  My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.” (Ps. 51:16-17).  But the people grew no more virtuous.  In some ways, it’s no wonder that they were afraid of God.  The priests had no time to explain the loving side of His nature: they were too busy managing the abattoir!

From what Jesus said, people thought that he wanted to throw out the Law that they had tried to live by for centuries.  As Matthew tells us, this was not the case; He hadn’t come to abolish the Law but in fulfilment of it (Matt. 5:17).  Yes, sin still had to be punished; yes, the price was still death.  Now, however, there was a new alternative.  Instead of an animal, and another animal, and another animal ad nauseam ... Jesus died – just once – to pay for the sins of all of mankind. 

Our course ends with that once-for-all sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross.  In his letter, Paul continues with a wonderful contrast.  Having spelled out the ‘wages of sin’, i.e. what we deserve for our behaviour, he explains that, instead of death, we can enjoy a free gift, Eternal Life (Rom. 6:23).  As a friend put it this week, “as a result of our acceptance that Jesus died for our sins (John 3:16-18), we are ‘in Him’; so when God looks at our sins, all He sees is the perfection of His Son.”

Later this month, you might be eating Easter eggs.  Before then, you could either eat or reject a roast dinner.  As you consider meat, spare a thought for those perfect animals slaughtered long ago, and remember the freedom you can now enjoy from the consequences of your sins.