That spider web over there is so beautiful, so delicate and orderly.
Or at least it was when I could see it. The light has shifted, and now all I see is a couple of anchor cables, out near the plants where they’re attached. And I can see the spider. It’s in the middle and seems to be hanging in midair, all by itself.
The light shifts in my life also, Lord. At times I see Your beauty and order surrounding me and supporting me, and I feel at rest and safe. Then the light shifts, and I seem to be hanging in midair by myself, with no support. When I look, I can glimpse the foundational anchors, and I tell myself that the web is still there. But I see nothing.
There it is again. I see part of the supporting web–more of it–but not all of it.
But I know it’s there, Lord. The anchor cables are straight and firmly attached. Though I seem to be hanging out here, I haven’t fallen. And I know I won’t. I know You’re still with me, and underneath me are Your everlasting arms (Deuteronomy 33:27).