Among the Leaves

My younger brothers are huddled near the window. There’s something new on the windowsill: a terrarium. It’s mostly made of fragile glass, but each pane is framed with strong copper. The rectangular base and triangular lid make it look like a small, transparent house.

               But it’s not the terrarium my brothers are looking at. It’s the Venus flytrap inside. Long spindles of green spill out of a pot of sphagnum moss.  At the end of each spindle is an open mouth lined with jagged teeth.

               “Can I touch it?” Gabriel asks.

               “No, it’ll hurt,” Isaiah says. He looks at me for confirmation.

               “You can’t touch it because that would drain the plant’s energy,” I say. “But it can’t hurt people. Just flies.”

               “Why would a fly ever land on that?” Gabriel asks. “Look at all of those teeth.”

               “The flies don’t land on the teeth,” I say. “Look at the mouth.” I point at the smooth center of one of the traps. It looks soft, almost padded, and it’s just the slightest shade of pink. “Each of those little mouths smells very sweet to flies. They think there’s food nearby, so they land on the trap. When the fly touches the mouth, the jaws close. By the time the fly figures out the smell was a trick, it’s too late.  Those teeth are locked tight, and the fly is trapped.”

               “That’s sneaky,” Isaiah says. “I kind of feel bad for the fly.”

               “I do too,” I say. And I really mean that. On some level, I can identify with the fly.

               Because the flytrap reminds me of sin.

               Sin is dangerous. But it’s also attractive. It draws us in by looking appealing and enjoyable. But the sweet aroma it gives off is only an imitation of goodness. And once we’ve opened ourselves to sin, it grabs hold. The jaws close. And getting free is no easy task.

               I’ve been there before. I’ve also been saved and set free by Christ. I’ve seen the power he has over sin.

               But I don’t want to wait until I’m trapped to recognize sin. I want to see it for what it is from the start.

               “Can we water the plant?” Isaiah’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

               “Sure. Let’s go get the watering can,” I say.

               As we leave the room, I look back at the terrarium. The plant inside is draped in an almost lazy fashion.

But I know that there is danger hidden among the leaves.