Today, despite brisk winds and 55 degrees, I decided to take a break from tax stuff, writing work, and errands, to spend an hour at the beach. After packing a bag, I leashed Jack, and off we went.

Just as I plunked my back pack on the sand and was reaching inside for a Coke Zero, a hopping black spider scurried up next to me. I didn’t want to share my patch of sand with him, but when I moved left, he did, too. When I went right, he followed. We were playing chicken over one square yard on a massive, empty beach.

“Really?” I said, looking down at him. “Can’t you go someplace else?”

As if mocking me, he jumped straight up and into my open back pack. Because its contents were a jumble of beachy things, finding him was going to be difficult. I unzipped the bag, laying it as far open as it would go, and spotted him nestled between my sun glasses and a granola bar.

“See the sun?” I said, holding the bag open. “This way out.”

He began climbing over pens, paper, and a chapstick heading for freedom, but as he stood perched on the zipper’s edge, he took a flying leap and landed on my hand. I flinched, and wouldn’t you know it, he jumped right back into the bag.

I decided to repeat my strategy but this time face the back pack away from me. Sure enough, in less than a minute he had again crawled as far out as the zipper, hopping to the sand from there. Then he made an about-face, ran toward me, and dashed up my pant leg.

I shook my leg, and watched him fall to the sand, where he stayed. Using both hands to scoop him up along with the sand he was sitting on, I tried to fling him away, but he hopped out first and landed at my feet. One quick stomp would have done him in, but I opted instead for a swift kick, sending him sailing toward the dune. When he landed, he headed back my way, but I bombarded him with sand until he was buried.

It occurred to me that God pursues us much like that spider, relentlessly wanting a relationship with us. He tracks us out of a pure love that wants what’s best for us, which of course is him. Sadly, just as I worked to get rid of the spider, we can work to push God away, too. And if we do it long enough, he lets us go-it-alone until we’re buried in troubles. Digging out after that is difficult, but when we do, he’s still there waiting, offering himself and his love once again.

Eventually my beach spider reappeared and scampered over to “love” Jack instead of me, which didn’t seem to bother him and was fine with me.

“God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made.” (Romans 1:20)