Toward the Light

Rosie Maple MothLast week was National Moth Week. Until I heard about it on the radio, I didn’t know there was such a thing. This year was the ninth annual, established by a handful of moth-loving people in an attempt to increase appreciation for the 160,000 different species of moths.

One of my children absolutely hates moths. When leaving the house after dark, Birgitta dashes through a multitude of fluttering wings on our front porch with screams of distaste and panic. “Get off me!” she shrieks, if one of them touches her.

Loving the light.“What exactly do you hate about them?” I said.

“Their furry bodies.”

“But aren’t they kinda fluffy-cute?”

“Absolutely not!” she said, shuddering.

Maybe the real reason moths are unloved is their nocturnal habits. They join bats, owls, and other scary creatures of the dark. Their butterfly cousins, flitting about in the sunshine, represent good luck and new beginnings. But moths? Tradition has them symbolizing “dangerous attraction leading to unhappiness.” After all, flying into fire to get close to a light is about as unhappy as it gets.

Toward the lightWhy would God program a moth to fly toward light? The answer is pretty interesting. Porch lights and fires weren’t his original intention. Instead, he wanted them to look up.

God gave moths the ability to calibrate their flight paths using the moon as their primary reference point. So the unsung moth should get a little appreciation for being aerodynamically sophisticated. But they get into trouble when they confuse porch lights or fires with moonlight. One expert put it this way: “A moth’s attraction to an artificial light or a fire could be related to orientation, which leads to dis­orientation since the moth wasn’t expecting to actually get to ‘the moon.’ Then confusion results.”

I think of how different this is from flying toward the Light described in Scripture. Jesus was and is the self-proclaimed “Light of the World.” The closer we get to him, the greater our benefits. Unlike a moth becoming disoriented by flying too close to a light, we become more clear-headed the closer we get to Jesus.

Light is light as far as a moth is concerned, and the one light God intended as their guide (the moon) isn’t always the one they follow. When they get burned, it’s too late. Watching this happen, we could take a lesson.

God intends for us to follow only one Light, too, but sometimes we become attracted to people or things that seem just as good as Jesus and his values. When we do that, we get every bit as disoriented as a zig-zagging moth.

Maybe National Moth Week is a good time to make an annual check of our light source. If we catch ourselves heading toward the wrong one, we could reorient ourselves toward the Light of the World and avoid getting badly burned.

Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12)

Caring and Sharing

People can learn a great deal from animals. For instance, today I read a news story about a dog being abandoned in front of an animal shelter on the 4th of July. The shelter was closed for the holiday, but a police officer saw a cardboard box and the small dog tied to a nearby pole, so he investigated.

Doggie nursing kitties

When he saw two tiny babies in the box he wasn’t surprised until he realized they weren’t puppies but kittens. The dog jumped in with them, and they began nursing from her. When the officer turned them over to a foster pet home, the foster mom promised to keep them together until the kittens were weaned. She also complimented the dog’s actions: “All she knew, she was a mother, and these were babies, and they needed her.”

This story appeals to us because we project human characteristics onto animals who are behaving well. Experts tell us dogs and cats operate on instinct not reason, but sometimes we wonder. This dog’s unlikely behavior blurs the line as she overcame specie-obstacles to feed and care for animals that weren’t “of her kind.”

Polite at the pan

I often see the same blurred lines between instinct and reason when I watch two of our family dogs, Jack and his cousin Sydney. To see them greet each other down a road or across a stretch of beach is to watch a demonstration of pure joy as they run together to sniff, lick, and circle. They don’t even balk at sharing the same food bowl, politely taking turns eating together, a fine example of sharing.

Syd and Jack

Humanly speaking, sharing with others isn’t always easy. We may offer something to another, but our heads might be thinking, “There won’t be enough for me now,” or “She’s taking the one I’d wanted.”

As soon as children can speak, one of their favorite words is, “Mine!” spoken while yanking a toy from another child. When we get older, we squelch our “Mines!” but oftentimes they’re rumbling just below the surface. Because of this, when my kids were young we memorized Hebrews 13:16. I needed it as much as they did: “To do good and share, forget not, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.”

Young children don’t especially care about pleasing God, but the rest of us ought to be thinking about that. It’s interesting that Scripture labels sharing as a “sacrifice”. God wants us to know he recognizes how difficult it is, and that, of course, is the whole reason our sharing pleases him well.

I don’t think the dog in the news considers it any big deal to care for those two kittens; she’s just genuinely happy to help. But strange as it may sound, I think she’s getting some special credit with God.

Paul wrote, “Just as a nursing mother cares for her children, so we cared for you. Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the Gospel of God but our lives as well.” (1 Thessalonians 2:7-8)