One evening during our last week in Kosovo, the pastor and his wife invited us to their home. They just welcomed a new baby, so we went to meet him and to talk about our time with the church. It was an incredible evening of fellowship and they shared incredible testimonies of faith and the Lord’s goodness.
But for several days to follow, my heart was extremely unsettled. Our month had been great. We loved the community with the church. We had built incredible relationships. Ministry had been fruitful, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was off.
I realized our month in Kosovo was quickly coming to an end and our evening at Pastor Artur’s had really begun to drive that home. Kosovo ending meant our time in Eastern Europe was closing. Whoa.
At the end of the month, we would be done with one third of the Race; finished with an entire continent. That reality settled heavy on my chest.
We began having conversations as a team to help process everything that the last four months had been. We were getting ready to leave Kosovo, to leave Europe, and to have team changes.
One morning we sat together in the living room. Amber turned on some worship music, and we had listening prayer.
Reflecting back on this month and all of Eastern Europe, I was wondering and questioning if I had grown at all.
“Jesus, have I chosen in?
If I was going home instead of to Africa, would I still be the same?”
Almost immediately, I saw a picture of a caterpillar.
She’s olive green with vibrant rainbow colors scattered all over her body. She’s different and unique. In all of the Nat Geo shows I’ve seen, I’ve never seen one like her. As far as caterpillars go, she’s beautiful.
Then, she begins to make a chrysalis and encloses herself in it. A chrysalis isn’t pretty. They are ugly and drab and plain. But something beautiful takes place inside the chrysalis. While she’s in there, there is so much incredible change and transformation happening.
The chrysalis begins to open. The place where she’s been safe and comfortable is torn apart.
Emerging is a hard, messy process. She’s been folded up for a long time. She’s sticky and wet as she slowly crawls into the sunshine.
I can see she’s a butterfly now, but her wings are still goopy and wet. She can’t fly yet. She has to wait.
The sun beats down on her wings and, little by little, they begin to dry. Every time she tries to extend them, they open just a little more.
Finally, they’re dry and they burst open all the way. My breath is taken away.
The butterfly is the same color she was as a caterpillar. She’s olive green with vibrant rainbow colors. But now, the vibrant colors are brilliantly displayed all over her wings for everyone to see and marvel.
She begins to fly and flutter and the sun dances on her new wings.
I wanted that to be me.
Jesus gently reminded me that it is me.
It’s a process. Multiple times through, the caterpillar struggles with coming into the next step. And I need to be reminded that the struggle is part of growing. It takes time to learn to be a butterfly; how to fly, where to land, what to eat. But the butterfly is still just a more elegant, refined version of the caterpillar. She’s the same creation. Now she’s just grown into what she was made to be.
“If I was going home instead of to Africa, would I still be the same?”
The answer is no. Just like the creature wouldn’t still be a caterpillar when she emerged from the chrysalis. If I went home tomorrow, I wouldn’t look the same.
