For the first day or so it was resting on the edge of the half-moon shaped window, too high above the bathroom sink to reach. Even if we’d climbed up on the counter, we would have been reaching high on tip-toes to get this lazy, perhaps even dying, wasp. We knew he was there, but we weren’t overly concerned because he wasn’t flying around.
On the second day, my allergic-to-bees-and-wasps husband picked up his towel, only to discover the wasp had relocated to the back side of said towel. There was shrieking and running and door-slamming as my husband emerged from the bathroom, placing the door between the wasp and him. As he caught his breath, he explained that the wasp could, indeed, fly. Well, he might have used slightly different words.
It was all fine that we were sharing the room with a wasp when it didn’t move toward us. But once it did, it was game on. Wasp was going down. And I thought two things.
First, should we have been a bit more proactive in eliminating that wasp on day one—especially knowing my husband’s allergy? Yes. The answer is yes.
Second, isn’t that exactly how sin creeps close? We see it over there, lying lazy on the window, but as long as it doesn’t fly toward us, we think that maybe we can ignore it. That is, until it’s all up in our faces and we’re waving clothing and shoes and stomping around to eradicate the very thing we knew was there all along.
What if we waved our hands against it as soon as we spied it?
What if we didn’t wait to address it until we’re dancing with it?
This won’t happen in our house again. You can bet we’ll be climbing up in that window as soon as we spy any unwelcome antennae or wings. May we do the same with those sins that lie quiet and low.
“…sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is contrary to you, but you must rule over it” (Genesis 4:7).
What a powerful illustration, Marnie! Thank you. (I hope you got that wasp!)