Welcome to Theologia et Vita: Where Doctrine and Discipleship Meet

On Sharks, Spiders, and Mosquitoes: Random Thoughts 

J. Neil Daniels 

If we’re being honest, sharks, spiders, and mosquitoes feel like the leftovers of creation, those things God might have made on day five or six and then paused for a moment, tilted His head, and said, “Well, they’ll serve a purpose… trust Me.” Sharks glide through the ocean with a grin that seems entirely too smug for a fish, as if they know every surfer out there is silently humming the Jaws theme. Spiders spin silk masterpieces that no human loom could rival, and then have the audacity to drop from ceilings unannounced like tiny assassins. And mosquitoes (those whispering vampires of the night) exist mainly to remind us that paradise has not yet come.

Theologically, though, their existence is almost comforting. They’re like footnotes in the book of Job, living proof that God delights in creating things beyond our preferences. Sharks keep the seas balanced, spiders keep the insect population in check, and mosquitoes—well, let’s be honest, they mostly keep us humble. If nothing else, they remind us that Eden’s perfection was shattered and the world is groaning for redemption. Every itchy welt is a little sermon about the fall: sin entered, and suddenly mosquitoes found a niche.

There’s also something to be said about fear. Sharks are terrifying, yes, but they’re also a reminder that we are not the lords of the deep. Spiders test our trust in providence every time we put on a shoe. And mosquitoes, those masters of irritation, test the fruit of the Spirit—especially patience and self-control—on hot summer nights. God could have filled the world with only butterflies and bunnies, but He gave us these unnerving creatures to remind us that discipleship is partly about living in a world that pricks, bites, and occasionally swallows you whole.

So maybe the question isn’t “God, why sharks, spiders, and mosquitoes?” but “God, what do You want me to learn from them?” Perhaps He whispers back: courage, attentiveness, endurance, and the hope that one day “they shall not hurt or destroy in all My holy mountain” (Isa. 11:9). Until then, we laugh at ourselves swatting and shrieking, and we marvel that the same God who designed the rose also dreamed up the tarantula. Which is to say, creation is stranger, wilder, and more instructive than we’d ever imagine.