How Butterflies Earn Their Wings...
Hope For A Season Of Discomfort
““He has made everything beautiful in its time.””
I am convinced that there are very few human sensations that are worse than not being able to breathe through both nostrils. Laugh at me if you want, but after almost a week of nonstop nasal congestion and all of the icky, gooey, disgusting-ness that comes with being sick, you couldn’t convince me otherwise.
Lets’ not forget to mention the fact that I haven’t been able to find the right temperature; it always seems to be too hot, or too cold, or both! Oh! Or the fact that everything tastes like cardboard except the cold medicine I’m taking; which for some odd and cruel reason I can taste perfectly.
To say the very least, I have been uncomfortable.
While I know that I am now at the tail end of this road to recovery, I have still found myself frustrated as I’ve endured the symptoms of discomfort. I found myself asking, “God can’t you just heal me?“, “Why do I have to go through this in the first place?”and “Why can’t this healing process be sped up?”These are questions we have all asked for one reason or the other.
You see, as a “doer” (and a true New Yorker) it is very seldom that I take time to just be, to rest and relax. I have found that God often remedies this jink in my character by allowing me to become sick; where I have no choice but to pause. When this first began to happen a few years ago, I’d be extremely irritated, until I realized a pattern where God had been trying to get my attention. It was in my discomfort that I was able to stop, and look up to Him.
The uncomfortable place often feels like the place where we are forgotten, left behind, overlooked, the place we were sent to die whether figuratively or literally.
But, I assure you…
There is something miraculous that takes place in the process of discomfort.
As I’ve laid in bed this week I realized that even though I feel sick, my body is actively fighting to defend itself. I’m also aware that when this is said and done I’ll never be able to become sick from this specific strain of virus ever again because my body would have created a defense against it. So, in more ways than one I will come out of this week; stronger. That train of thought led me to think about what discomfort produces. As a result, I began to research the process of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly. What I found amazed me…
From the very beginning of their journey caterpillars already possess all the hormones and cells that are necessary for them to one day become a butterfly (read that again). However, these attributes remain dormant until the appointed time.
When the time is finally right they release these hormones and begin to shed their own skin. It is that very skin that creates a hard shell called a chrysalis (famously mistaken for a cocoon). The caterpillars live within the chrysalis for weeks as their body’s deform and reform, dissolving it’s own muscles and cells to form something greater. To create a butterfly…
Can you imagine your body tearing itself apart? Can you imagine your cells actively disintegrating? Can you imagine the darkness of the chrysalis? The anguish of the process? Can you envision the discomfort?
What surprised me most was that research has proven that butterflies actually remember the process of their days within the chrysalis… just like us. The process that they endure is hard, long, painful and grueling. Yet, in the end; worth it.
I remember a time not too long ago when life seemed to be caving in. I cried out to God in pure desperation; willing Him to change my circumstances. He responded, but not the way I imagined. His response, was a simple question that rocked me to my core;
Who are you becoming while you wait on Me?
Our seasons of discomfort produce the fruit of who we were created to be. A caterpillar cannot fly. A caterpillar cannot pollinate flowers. A caterpillar is merely meant to be a rest stop on the journey to becoming a butterfly.
Friend, from the outside of the chrysalis it may look like an insignificant blob of cells, or it may just look gross. It may appear as if it serves no purpose at all. From the inside it may feel like your very life is falling apart; it may feel dark and hopeless.
But from the eyes of the Gardener, the One familiar with the process of becoming, the One who knows your end from your beginning; it looks like purpose coming to life.
From God’s point of view your season of discomfort simply looks like a butterfly earning their wings. So rest in your season of discomfort knowing that one day soon you will fly.
