emerging

I have always loved butterflies. Not only are they beautiful and full of detail but the process they undergo is fascinating and relatable. What a wonderful parallel between this creature and the life of a believer.

caterpillar

Sitting outside one day I saw three caterpillars. As always, they caught my eye and I found myself admiring them up close.

I wondered, When will they go into the cocoon and change? What kind of butterflies will they become?

I thought about the change a caterpillar soon faces. It will be hard and scary, but once transformed from the inside, that little worm will see the world from a whole new perspective.

Thoughts flooded my mind at the way it views the world from this stage. How everything must be so difficult. To simply move from one place to the next takes every muscle in its body. It looked weak; with one wrong step, a person can crush it.

I found myself remembering my life before I knew Jesus. I viewed the world much like this caterpillar. As a young child, feeling small and unimportant, I remember looking around and thinking that I wanted something different. I didn’t know that there was anything different than what I had known, still I yearned for something—anything—beyond where I was. I saw the people around me so full of pain and sadness and I thought, There has to be more to life than this.

Yet whatever that life was felt far away and out of reach.

So, I settled into a dysfunctional life in the fractured world around me. I knew it well, as the caterpillar knows his own feeble, limited world.

Moving towards the small worm, I could so see the fear in its body as I picked it up. When I put it down again, it simply started right back on the path as it was. How awful that this little guy must succumb to fear each time a bigger being surrounds and overtakes it. It’s so used to the fear that it is barely disrupted or disturbed.

My life before Jesus looked painfully similar. Fear controlled me. I was always scared, but even fear became a familiar friend. I learned how to live with it.

the cocoon

I continued in my wonderings as I watched this little furry friend scurry about.

When will he go into a cocoon?

What does it feel like in there? … Anything?

Is he confused?

Is he comfortable?

Is it simply total darkness inside?

Does it feel safe or confining?

When I first met Jesus I felt different in many ways, yet my world still felt dark. It was a different type of darkness; I recognized things I hadn’t before. I strived a little harder because I started to learn that there really was more to life. However, no matter how hard I tried I always ended up exhausted.

Slowly I began to learn that I was safest when I would let go and rest in the covering around me. The years of the cocoon have been some of my longest years. I wrestled and wrestled but still felt trapped, eventually giving way to the belief that there was no life outside of the cocoon.

Recalling my life in the caterpillar stage prior, I thought, at least this is better … right?

Feeling as though God had buried me in a grave, I put Him in a box of His own. I concluded: this must be where He wants me. This must be all that He has in store for me. And so even in the cocoon, I started to get comfortable.

I have gotten the rare pleasure of literally watching a butterfly come out of its cocoon. It was one of the most intriguing processes to witness. As each day passed, the outermost part of the cocoon’s skin began to thin until it was barely even there, entirely translucent.

Suddenly it was gone.

The most fascinating part was that the butterfly did not instantly fly away as I was anticipating. It laid very still, slowly starting to move parts of its body. It had a shine to it as though it might stick to my fingers if I tried to touch it. It was covered in the substance of that innermost place of the cocoon.

This is the stage I most resonate with. The one my life currently reflects. This is where God has done the most work on me and in me.

While in the cocoon, I learned more and more about who God was, but I tried to make sense of Him in my mind. My brain would only allow Him to be so big. Though I underwent some intense changes, I still felt trapped in the walls around me. As I stopped trying to understand God in my head and simply allowed Him to lead me, the walls began to dissolve.

Now the walls are all but gone. Though I know that I am not the same, fear is still nearby, and with it hovers the desire to stay where I am.

A butterfly is never a caterpillar again, and I think that is a good reminder. I am worn from wrestling out of the cocoon, but I now know that people really can fly. That there really is such a thing as freedom. But the hardest part is believing that I can access that.

This is the stage of rawness. This is the stage of choice.

How can I feel so raw, yet not exposed?

Perhaps it’s in the rawness where true transformation can happen. I see light all around me, and as the wind blows I get a taste of the fresh air, suddenly craving more. This is the place where I forget who I think I am and choose instead to listen to God tell me who He is. At this stage, I must lay every part of myself down so that I am light enough to fly.

It’s here that I can almost hear Him whisper His own thought …

Are you ready to discover your wings?