We have been blessed to live here in this home for the past 13 years. We have had no direct instruction from God to move, and yet my spirit reels and groans to move forward. I feel my soul pressing, pressing against the sides of my dwelling place. Against the walls, and the floors, and the moments and the days. Pressing against something I can’t quite name or understand. The door has not yet been made, the opening not wide enough to pass through. And yet every day I can hear my heart pound out this request:
‘Deliverance- please, deliverance- please, deliverance-please.
I’m well aware of this journey that the Lord takes his children on, this journey of transformation, of waiting and change, from death to life, and sin to holy, from the earth to the kingdom. The journey is unique for each one. For me, it’s this house, a metaphoric cocoon, where I must wait. There is always something that God allows us to wait for, to be patient in, while he works and while we grow into who he has made us to be and the places he has purposed us to ascend.
Butterflies are beautiful, graceful, colorful flying machines. Who doesn’t stop at the sight of a passing butterfly and marvel for a split second? Who doesn’t take note of its nimble flight before their eyes on a summer day, or pause at a winged creature alighting on a nearby bush? Their migratory practices are fascinating, their faithfulness none can compare, as to their assembling together breathtaking. They are capable of turning their single weak presence into a heavenly host of strength, when congregating. They are one of few creatures which we see transform so dramatically during such a short period of time. It happens with most living things from infant to man, from a grain of wheat to the wheat itself, from an egg to a bird, from a seed to a tree, from dark to light. All of life changes, but none as quick and striking, perhaps as that of a butterfly.
Before they become what they are, they have to be who they were.
While hastening towards splendor they are born despised. A larva, a small maggoty, worm, burdened with the curse of the serpent who must crawl on its belly in the very dust man was taken from; how beneath us, yet upon completion of its journey rises far above what we could ever physically aspire to. They grow from disgusting maggots into fat and furry eating machines, before isolating themselves in a small tight package, which flails about and hangs itself with no knowledge of its soon to be new gift.
Several times I have seen this house as my cocoon, in heart visions. My past is that wretched creature I described, my future still unknown and not yet grasped. This house indescribably vitally important to and for the next stage of my life. It is here, perhaps my most important and hidden transformation is taking place. I saw myself within and I heard God’s tender voice gently pad on my heart,
“You’re going to have to pray yourself out.”
The butterfly pushes herself out somehow, through moving back and forth, jiving and struggling and swinging, and somehow pumping. This takes days, the cocoon becomes too small, too confined for what she has turned into. Her wings ache for flight, her body cramped and pressed. Her desire to fly takes over and she has one single objective…to get out. Once out she sits quiet and silent on her broken home, waiting still. Her wings still not quite ready. They need to be pumped, worked, the heavy body is filled with fluid which needs to be moved into her wings to strengthen them.
A butterfly’s wings are its main attraction as well as its purpose and function. Without them she remains insignificant and ordinary, but with them she is able to fulfill her life’s task.
I need to develop my prayer life, it needs to be worked, moved, and filled with power to lift me up and away. My one objective is to go, move, and fly. Still, perhaps I’m not quite ready to hold myself up. If I stay in the cocoon to long I will certainly die, if I leave to early I will fall and perhaps be crippled beyond repair.
Lord teach me, teach me how to pray, teach me how to do what I need to do to fulfill my function and purpose. Teach me to wait and be still. Teach me.
I heard a sermon yesterday by the spokenprophet, he highlighted something I had missed in the book of Genesis. His sermon was, BE PATIENT GOD IS WORKING IT OUT. When Joseph was waiting in the jail cell and had interpreted the dream for the chief cupbearer, he said, ‘Remember me, and GET ME OUT OF HERE.’
Joseph was in the land of his affliction, isolated for 13 years, waiting for his deliverance, growing transforming from an ordinary spoiled boy, to a man of great value whom the Lord used to ascend to heights no man in his line had reached, a ruler in Egypt, a savior to an entire nation, a man whom the Lord was with consistently.
I read in my devotion today:
“We have the fullest assurance that our God can and does guide his children in all things. He can intimate His mind to us as to this or that particular act or movement. Let us be quiet and wait. God is our light, those who have experienced that light can know that it will light us to our destination. Our lord Jesus can intimate his mind to his servant as to where he would have them go and what he would have them do.” – Streams in the dessert 2 – July 27
I am comforted considerably. One question answered. God has not left me, and he will instruct me… when it is time, and Lord help me to fill my prayer life with power, as the butterfly fills her wings so that I can rise up above all circumstances and every situation, so that I can dance in the heavenly places, and mountain tops and migrate to all the places you beckon me.