The Ultimate Bug Exterminator

Disclaimer: this writer is not responsible for hysterics or broken computer screens that this picture may generate.

•••

It was the first week of school and our eighty-year-old dorm was airing out after having her doors shut for the summer.

I closed my textbooks and arose from my desk as anticipation mounted inside of me. My “favorite” time of the day had finally arrived and I would greet my beloved pillow once again when I saw it—

“It” was a creature of disproportional size, but known to brazenly roam territories unknown to mankind in the dark cracks and crevices of buildings all over the city.

“It” was the terror from the dark whose strategic surprise tactics are known—on sight—to evoke immediate shrieks of terror as unsuspecting damsels add “in Distress” to their title.

Yes, this horror of BH was none other than my first TUFW centipede who dared to dance on its fifteen pairs of hairy legs across our room floor.

Had I known the danger I was in my reaction might have been different, for I forever disgraced the halls of Bethany with a sigh of mild unconcern as the little intruder scurried behind the bookshelf.

A sudden faint instinct rose inside of me, and for a moment, I eyed its wooden refuge and contemplated whether I should attempt to kill it.

This uninvited visitor, however, posed no threat to my psyche or my life—and I confess that I have an aversion to killing bugs that, when squished, leave too much behind. So I decided against performing the execution with my ever-present intelligent reasoning:

It’s doing me no harm.

The following afternoon I was studying at my desk when two heroic bug exterminators on their dormly rounds showed up at our door with deadly weapons in hand:

“Got bugs?” one asked.

I had barely ended my centipede-sighting story before the two had entered and strategically sprayed the corners of our room.

I admit that I have nursed a suspicion that questions whether these bug exterminations—complete with glamorous puffs of chemical-laden mist—really work, or merely serve as a psychological soother to damsels awaiting distress.

My suspicions were verified that evening when a movement caught the corner of my eye and I turned from my ever present textbook just in time to see that intruder actually run out our open door.

I think I broke all codes of Damsels in Distress by laughing out loud as I strained to see if he was carrying a suitcase.

I have since been reprimanded by an anonymous former Damsel in Distress—a great lady who, on one occasion, took 40 minutes and a shoe to dispose of said terror from the dark.

I blame myself for what took place over the following nine months and wonder at times whether our history would have been different had I killed it. For this creep, with his numerous family members of varying sizes and leg lengths, haunted our halls for the rest of the school year.

It became a common occurrence.

It wasn’t winning the lottery or earning a good grade that brought girls running into the halls in hysterics.

Day-sightings punctuated the air with shrill blood-curdling screams of unique pitches. At night, stifled shrieks were heard through the walls as furniture scraped against the floor and a series of thumping and hitting followed as I imagined the damsel gingerly running after the fleeing long legs armed with that No. 1 Bug Killing Weapon of the Twenty-First Century: the Flip Flop.

Although I know several damsels who irrefutably believe that these centipedes are a result of The Fall, I can’t help but think about how these creepy crawlies can be compared to the presence of sin in my heart. I only wish I would scream as loud as my neighbors every time I see it.

Its presence is everywhere—hiding behind the bookshelves of my mind and creeping through cracks and crevices kept in disrepair by my unsurrendered sin.

But instead I grow dull to sin as our culture—even within “Christian” circles—accept and even promote the very conduct that God calls evil, foolish, vain, worthless, crude, and immoral.

Why? Why do I allow this in my life, my mind, my mouth, when I carry the Name of Jesus Christ?

I have grown careless, and in fateful moments of each day I reason myself out of taking action against my sin:

Perhaps this little sin isn’t threatening enough. Perhaps if I see a visible or immediate consequence then I’ll commit to do something about it. Perhaps I’m just too tired, too lazy to exert the energy, or too afraid of the mess it will make.

But unlike our own earthly and heroic bug exterminators who seem to succeed only in scaring away these terrors for a time…our Ultimate Sin Exterminator can smash them! Yes, it gets dirty, my friends, but we can have victory if we strive to wield our weapons surrendered to Christ!

“Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the Devil and he will flee from you.
Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” James 4:7-8