Recently, my husband found a hornet’s nest being built in my father’s young maple tree. It was fairly close to eye level, and gave us the opportunity for inspection of its design in relative safety. The intricacy of the work in creating layer after layer was astounding. It looked like the strata of the Grand Canyon had been reproduced on a miniature scale and wrapped around a small orb. The resulting effect made the nest blend almost perfectly into the bark of the tree, allowing the hornets a “secret entrance” into their home.
I’ve been reading Crazy Love by Francis Chan. Early in the book he challenges you to see the majesty and grandeur of God in not only the large scale of the universe, but in the minutiae of life. That’s what I thought of when I saw this hornet’s nest. These small, nearly brainless creatures were given the instincts to create a home of incomparable design and beauty. But because we view them as “pests”, we rarely take the time to appreciate the intelligence behind their Maker.
I’m not saying we should begin breeding hornets or anything like that. My dad quickly dispensed of the nest the night after it was discovered; hornets are a danger to the children that often play in the area near the nest. But even things that must be destroyed can be appreciated and their Maker praised.
It makes me wonder what place these delicate creatures played before the fall of creation. How were they a help and not a danger? Or are they some form of mutation from something originally benign?
I can look at myself and ask the same questions. The mental issues that I deal with are most likely at least in part genetically wired into my brain. Certainly some form of OCD and anxiety in a person could be helpful in allowing her to complete tasks efficiently, be passionate about something, and deal successfully with dangers. But somewhere along the way, they got out of control and spiraled into something harmful.
What if I were to take a moment and appreciate the beauty behind the illness? What would I see?
I think about the counting issues first. Silly little numbers that get stuck in my head; like the 22 separate pieces of wood used to make the child’s rocker in the living room of a friend’s house, or the average of 18 spindles that are between posts on my front porch. I think of Noah and Joseph. They had to work quickly with numbers, and with the scarcity of paper at the time, I wonder how much information they needed to carry around in their heads to have available at a moment’s notice. I can see counting on impulse being used as a gift. That is, if it could be focused and controlled.
The need to have things in a particular order and to clean them “just so” would be a quality the Levites would have appreciated as they cared for the Tabernacle and the Temple. I know that this issue frequently reminds me how imperfect I am, how perfection can never be achieved, and the need for a Savior in my life. That can be a good thing, as long as I allow the thoughts to lead me to a deeper dependence on Jesus.
Like the hornet’s nest, parts of ourselves that we find ugly can turn into something beautiful when we take a moment to remember the One who is in charge of it all. He can take any part of your life and create a masterpiece out of it, if you are willing to allow Him entrance to your secret places.
“My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 12:9(NLT)
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