Not talked about very much, though, is the in-between experience, that dark and quite deliberately woven coffin that houses the transforming creature while it grows its organs of flight. The chrysalis is a necessary stage, but from an observer's perspective, it would seem that the experience must be somewhat frightening. One day you're devouring milkweed leaves and the next day you're encased in a shell hanging upside down from the bush's branch. Quite a jolt; quite a change.
People go through chrysalis periods, too. Ours, however, are spiritual, not physical. When a change in circumstances occurs and familiarity disappears, we fret, we wonder and we wait until the new becomes familiar and we are comfortable once again. Handling the unfamiliar is that dark time of growth within the cocoon. We are unaccustomed to the new requirements of our lives and question our ability to function and succeed. We wonder how we're going to fly, not realizing that the wings we need will grow out of the experience of change.
People won't be growing wings anytime soon - unless those flying cars we've been promised for so long appear and bear us up! What we will be growing is whatever we need for the life we're going to live. Some of us will grow new skills, others new virtues, still others new perspectives. The point is that, just as when political commentators try to envision the future in terms of the present, we make a mistake if we look to our own futures while considering only our current capabilities and resources.
To say that "God will provide" is another way of saying that whatever we need in order to confront a change in our lives will be at our disposal at the time it is required. Just as eight year old girls don't worry about not having breasts to feed their infants, adults needn't worry about not having at present what may only be needed in the future. God doesn't load us down with tools we don't need. We lost our tails eons ago.
The story of the manna in the desert is a good analogy here. The Israelites had just left Egypt and were marching off through the desert to the Promised Land. The farsighted among them were probably worried about what they would eat once the food they'd brought along was gone.
How did they know that God was going to provide a new food that they had never seen? It appeared like frost on the ground each morning. God told them to gather only enough manna for one day and not to try to hoard a mother lode "just in case." Those who did found that it spoiled. Why not carry extra? God knew that a light army travels fast and someone weighed down would tire quickly and become discouraged.
As it turned out, when the meandering tribes no longer needed it, the manna no longer appeared. The Israelite's job throughout the forty years of wandering was to trust that the manna would be there and it was. Our job throughout our life is to believe that God will continue to provide for His people and to trust that whatever we need will be there to do the job assigned to us at the time.
The caterpillar doesn't seem fazed by its process of growth. It chooses to spin its cocoon, go into the dark and get busy growing its wings. When faced with uncertainty, perhaps we should do the same. Getting through the chrysalis is easier when we take time to sit with God, quiet our fears and remember how much we are loved. Who knows what we'll grow in the process? The one thing we can be certain of is that it will be exactly what we need.
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