The Deceitfulness of Sin...

Heb.3:12-13

Beware, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart 

of unbelief in departing from the living God;

 13 but [b]exhort one another daily, while it is called “Today,” 

lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.

The above verses and the butterfly below helped inspire today's poem

Yesterday I watched this butterfly waft from the pretty purple bloom

straight into a spider's web!

In a flash the spider's sting paralyzed its prey...

and instantly it proceeded to roll the butterfly

hopelessly, into its silky trap...

The butterfly flew into it innocently.

Unless we exhort one another daily,

honing discernment,

we too can get tangled in 'silky traps'

that seem quite innocent looking to the naked eye...

The problem with Deceit is,

it doesn't looks deceptive!!

Its pleasing-to-the-eye-attire appears so very nice

It caters to creature-desire and blinds Want to its price/vice

Its voice is oh, so pleasant, dear, it really seems okay

It soothes the prick of conscience clear, with ‘did God really say?’

Distracting us from love so pure with bait of Fleeting Thrill

It dangles the form of the lure before our waning will

Easing us, subtle charmer, with most arduous appeal

Daring discernment’s armor with pleasure of how-we-feel

Until we feel quite heady with fervor’s footloose delight

The tempter always ready with reasons that fit just right

He attracts our attention with most darling of disguise

Barters with Best Intention, ruthless ruin-er of lives

Promiscuous and licentious, discernment's evil twin 

Proud, pretty and pretentious; the deceitfulness of sin

© Janet Martin

The butterfly and spider reminded me of a poem

I learned as a child,

 from one of my mother's school readers.

The Spider and the Fly (1829)

by Mary Howitt

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,

"'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;

The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,

And I have many curious things to shew when you are there."

"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,

For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;

Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.

"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,

And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"

"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,

They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend what can I do,

To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?

I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;

I'm sure you're very welcome–will you please to take a slice?"

"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind sir, that cannot be,

I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise,

How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!

I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,

If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."

"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,

And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,

For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:

So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,

And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.

Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,

"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;

Your robes are green and purple–there's a crest upon your head;

Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,

Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;

With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,

Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue–

Thinking only of her crested head–poor foolish thing! At last,

Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.

He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,

Within his little parlour–but she ne'er came out again!

And now dear little children, who may this story read,

To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:

Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,

And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.