This morning Nelson and I performed surgery in the dining room. It qualified as an ordeal, and both of us are glad it’s over.

Since we live in the woods, bugs and beetles are a part of everyday life, but normally I don’t think of them as creepy. There is one that does qualify, however: the tick. And our woods are full of them.

Ticks can lie on a bush-branch for months without moving, but just let a warm body brush past, and zip! They hop right on. Since they’re not much bigger than a pinhead when they make the leap, they seem harmless. But once on board, their powerful pincher digs in and holds on, allowing them to suck blood much like a mosquito.

Over a period of days the tick grows and can quickly reach jelly-bean size. Today we thwarted a tick’s plan to stay fat, dumb, and happy on our Jack when we gingerly removed it from from his neck.

As Nelson cautiously grabbed hold of the disgusting bug, he was careful to pull slowly. A quick tug could leave the sucking head behind to do further damage. As he worked to firmly ease it out, Jack tried to get away. “Do you think I’m hurting him?” he said.

“I don’t think so. Just keep going.” But our normally patient dog continued to fidget. The tick held on with strength, and we had to give Jack several breaks during the long process.

When Nelson finally succeeded, he put the extracted tick on a paper towel to check for the head, and we saw that its pincher was tightly closed around a chunk of Jack’s skin. (No wonder he’d been squirming!) Nelson had done a stellar job, though, and the head was still attached.

Our next problem was what to do with it. Ticks are rubbery. If struck with a hammer or ground beneath a rock, they’ll walk away unfazed, and we didn’t want it to have a second chance at Jack.

Suddenly Nelson said, “Boy, ticks are just like sin.”

In a flash we were rabbit-trailing about Satan and his desire to attach sin to our lives much like a tick. Any warm body will do, and once it arrives, immediately it takes hold. It’s influence is tiny and even imperceptible at first but steadily grows until one day it dominates us. If left untended, it can suck the life right out of us, especially our spiritual lives.

Nelson and I agreed the best way to terminate Jack’s tick would be to burn it. He wrapped it in the paper towel, took it outside, and lit the whole thing on fire. Though we heard the tick sizzling, after the paper had burned to ash, there it was, still intact. It took a direct, prolonged flame at close range to do him in.

It’s the same with sin. Once we identify it in our lives, the only way to get rid of it is to take extreme measures, doing whatever’s necessary to kill it. That might mean switching jobs, moving, changing schools, trashing a computer. But if we’re willing to get tough, God is willing to pluck sin from our lives.

“I chased my enemies and caught them; I did not stop until they were conquered.” (Psalm 18:37)