Waiting for Transformation

The birds are chirping extra cheerfully this morning, my heart feels heavy though. It’s only 6:30am but the air is already quite humid and heavy. As I stroll down the sidewalk, I begin pouring out my heart to God. I feel desperate for him to speak to me in the midst of my brokenness. For 13 years now I have walked this battle with health problems that have brought me near death more than once. For some reason, this morning feels especially challenging as I face the prospect of another day. It just feels like too much to handle. How can I go on like this? How do I live the abundant life Jesus offers, when I am in continual pain and weakness? How do I care for my three little kids when I can barely make it through the day?

In the middle of my ponderings, a bright yellow butterfly starts encircling my head. I take note of its beauty and freedom. I envy its carefreeness. A few minutes later, I see the same butterfly swoop by my head and flutter in stride with me for a few moments. Once again I am drawn by its simple splendor and grace. I feel the stirrings of the Lord in my heart. It almost seems foolish, but I look to the blue sky, “Lord, is this from you? If you want to speak to me through this butterfly, please send it one more time.” 

As I am nearing home, the same butterfly once again crosses the path before me. Immediately the Lord brings to mind the picture of a cocoon. It appears such a dark and suffocating place, without promise. But it is necessary for the transformation from caterpillar to butterfly to occur. Like most processes, it is not an immediate change. If the cocoon is broken into prematurely, the creature dies. The caterpillar is enclosed within this cocoon for about 2 weeks before it transforms into a butterfly. In light of its short life span, this is a long wait.      Sometimes the suffering we are going through feels like a cocoon. It feels like a prison closing in around us, prohibiting us from living the life we long to live. 

Very often have I cried out with the Psalmist, “How long, O Lord?!” (Psalm 13:1). But, this cocoon is no prison. Rather, it is a place of beautiful transformation, if we are willing to wait for its completion. And we know that transformation is part of God’s plan for us, “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 3:17-18, ESV). God is in the business of making us like himself. Sometimes this process is called sanctification, and it’s usually not comfortable. But there is hope and expectation of change when we yield to God’s hand. He’s not going to leave us in the cocoon forever, though at times it may appear that way. No, we can be confident that Jesus will complete the good work that he has started in each of us (Philippians 1:6). 

A gentle breeze stirs the leaves above my head, and once again I see the butterfly. This time, soaring. I didn’t know butterflies could soar, but this one definitely was proudly riding the wind with the skill of an eagle. A little bonus. It’s just like God to give us more than we ask for. I wasn’t that butterfly yet, but I now had a picture of hope. In this cocoon of darkness, transformation is coming. Maybe not today or next month, but it is coming. 

Heavenly Father, help me believe that no matter how dark my circumstances may seem, you will eventually provide a way out. Please mold me and make me into the person that you desire me to be. I yield to your loving and faithful hand today. Give me faith to believe that you will work all things together for my good and strength to endure for your glory. In Christ’s name, Amen