Every neighborhood has its pests. Whether mosquitoes, mice, wasps, snakes, or centipedes, pestilence is a nuisance.

We once lived in a neighborhood beset with rats. Despite our great fondness for Mrs. Frisby and her NIMH friends, we are not rat fans. Scratching in the attic is the opposite of a soothing seaside breeze. When we first heard it, our immediate impulse was extermination. How hard could it be to bag a rat?

Such questions always lead to learning journeys. We set out by acquiring and baiting a conventional rat trap. (Think mouse trap, but bigger.) Sadly, our rodent was unbeguiled. We then acquired a beefed-up plastic edition you’d not want sprung on your own fingers. Think Jaws. In fact, we bought two of these beauties perchance the rat had a chum.

Chum or not, our rat didn’t even extend the courtesy of sniffing at them. He zoomed right by as if we’d released a cat in the attic. (Yes, by this time we had a camera up there to track our progress.)

Next came the sticky traps piled high with peanut butter and topped with chocolate chips. The packaging had us picturing a well-fed rat stuck to the tray. Right. It turns out that rats are the Mensa geniuses of the rodent kingdom. Ours simply piled our fluffy white attic insulation all over the tray so he’d have somewhere comfy to sit while enjoying his feast.

At this point, we were climbing the DEFCON scale from Level 5 toward Level 1. This round involved a five-gallon pail of water sporting a handy ramp to the rooftop buffet. The buffet table featured a handsome presentation of peanut butter and chocolate chips, tastefully arranged on a convenient shelf directly above a slide into the swimming pool. Whether or not our rat got wet while devouring our buffet we never knew.

With our spring-loaded traps ignored, our sticky traps bested, and our rooftop buffet vanishing as if it had evaporated, we realized we were no match for our rat. It was time to ask an expert.

In our case, that meant calling a sister who lived in the city. She immediately knew what to do. We acquired the necessary device, installed it next to the rafter most traveled by our rodent, and let it sit there for a day or two. Long enough to quell suspicion. Then, wearing gloves (since the scent of humanity spoils their appetite), we introduced a dab of their favorite dish deep inside the diner.

As I climbed the ladder and crawled through the insulation the next morning, my mind was already chewing on what else we might try. Unbelief is the pesky mosquito that preys on faith. It reminds us that the odds are not in our favor, and that conviction is just another word for naivety. But life doesn’t come down to “odds.” It comes down to trust, even when you can’t see the steppingstones from here to there. It comes down to believing in someone and acting on that belief. This is called faith, and here’s how it’s described in the Bible:

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7).

As with our city sister’s advice, Jesus’ wise teachings in the biblical books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John speak to the issues that keep us awake at night. He is the Prince of Peace.