Tag Archives | paper butterfly

The Beauty of Hiddenness

At a quiet restaurant, during a night alone with no kids, I prop my elbows up on the table and confess to my man what God’s been showing me. “I have a really rebellious heart,” I tell him.

He leans in to listen, then sits back in his chair, long legs stretching underneath the tiny table we share. He chuckles lightheartedly, and quips back, “Really? You think?” I love this man. He keeps me honest in all the right ways.

Peter’s words to new believers in his first letter have uncovered a full-on rejection of authority in the deepest, most private area of my heart and mind.

Words like power and submission tumble around like weighty rocks.

Then I hear Emily Freeman, author of A Million Little Ways and Simply Tuesday, speak them just weeks later. Emily writes about a hunger for power, but in a familiar way that I’ve tasted. She talks about things like influence and longing for recognition, and the book that has been unraveling all of this for her.

I get my own copy and, days later, tears blur pages where someone has put into eloquent words the struggle God has unearthed in my heart through His Word. In The Way of the Dragon or the Way of the Lamb, Jamin Goggin and Kyle Strobel tackle this topic with grace and truth.

“In our pursuit to be more than, to transcend our weakness and frailty, we are reduced.”

The idea of hiddenness surfaces again and again as I read and mark up nearly every page of this paperback book. Peter uses the word, too, as he speaks about true beauty. All the while, God urges me to face my resistance to His way.

Let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious. 1 Peter 3:4

Hiddenness runs contrary to so many things I’ve been taught are important. Things like recognition and influence. Success. Yet, through this struggle, God is uncovering a longing in my heart. Somehow, I’ve assumed that recognition and influence will lead to connection.

Hidden is not the same as hiding.

My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Psalm 139:15

Every secret part of us lays open before a loving God. We can’t truly hide from Him, but we can wear ourselves out trying. While hiding prevents all connection, hiddenness in Christ provides the only path to authentic connection.

Goggin and Strobel describe two ways: “The way of the dragon is fixated on the spectacular, obsessed with recognition and validation, intoxicated by fame and power. The way of the Lamb is committed to worship, pursues God in the ordinary, and is faithful in hiddenness.”

In the personal, mysterious, and creative manner that God speaks, He weaves together His word, wisdom from others, and my own prayers offered in desperation into a visual that I finally understand.

Two simultaneous pictures flash through my mind one morning as I pray.

The Teacher tailors lessons to fit our time and place and wiring. Both images depict identical shades of rich orange and deep black, but only one has personal significance for me. A majestic tiger juxtaposed with a frail and fragile Monarch butterfly represents the deep power struggle in my heart that needs the salve of God’s loving truth.

The draw to power finds roots in a desire for control.

Yet, God has laid out His way, the narrow, small way where weakness wins and the last is first. Where surrender is daily and humility manifests through submission.

If I asked you which creature demonstrates power, you’d probably choose the tiger, right? Recognizing power in a delicate butterfly isn’t our natural inclination. “[James] tells us that the way from below masquerades as the way from above,” Goggin and Strobel point out.

We need God’s help to distinguish between the two.

Years ago, inside a breathtaking butterfly exhibit, with such intimacy I’ll likely never forget it, God showed me how He created me to soar as a butterfly. Speaking directly into my striving, my not enough mindset, He gave me a glimpse of the transformation He promised in my heart if I trusted Him to do the work.

Yet, here I am rejecting this way, longing for something bigger, something seemingly more powerful. God created us to be small and frail and dependent on Him for a reason.

A butterfly demonstrates a whole different kind of power.

Though ordinary, common, and often unnoticed, a butterfly displays God’s power to transform His creation. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. Colossians 3:3

Hidden is translated krypto, which means to escape notice or conceal (that it may not become known). We get the word Krypton from this Greek word. Krypton is an inert, monatomic gaseous element, found in very small amounts in the atmosphere and often used to light certain fluorescent lamps.

Powerless, small, hidden. Our lives are but a vapor, yet God designed us to reveal His power through our weakness.

God’s glory shines out of hiddenness.

During that same trip to the butterfly museum with my family, my oldest daughter asked if the butterflies would land on her. I told her not to get her hopes up, but secretly asked God to make this happen for her.

She walked around that whole blasted place with her arm held out, just hoping a butterfly would land on her teeny, tiny perch. And you know what? I wished I had earplugs with all her squealing and carrying on when a single, solitary butterfly in all its glorious smallness landed on her arm.

In this sweet, vivid memory, God etches His truth on my heart:

While a tiger can be admired from afar, only a butterfly is free to truly connect.

“Recollection is not merely remembering, but re-collecting the truth of oneself in Christ. We need recollection because we are prone to lose ourselves to things other than God in search of power and value,” Goggin and Strobel write.

Recollect us to You, Jesus. Teach us the way of worship and humility, and show us the beauty of our hiddenness in You.

Jesus loves you,

Kelly

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The Space Between Beginning and Completion

He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6

All good things must begin. Even so, beginnings are hard. The gap between beginning and completion can be daunting. Today doesn’t feel much like the beginning, but I guess in some ways it still is.

In the very beginning, God whispered two words to me. Just two. It’s taken my heart a long while to absorb them. As I held my week old baby girl, the words paper butterfly meant absolutely nothing to me. Not yet anyway. My heart stirred with just as much excitement as wonder, and I tucked those two words away and waited for God to explain Himself.

A few months later, I stood spellbound in the middle of the Cockrell Butterfly Center. I witnessed something sacred as I stood on the other side of thick, clear glass. Vulnerable butterflies fought their way out of dead, crusty casings which had kept them hidden. The struggle seemed familiar somehow.

Wings marked the transformation. Wet and flimsy, they were not at all what I was expecting. I assumed that once the butterflies emerged, they’d be strong enough to fly. I wasn’t expecting frailty or weakness; I was rooting for immediate transformation. After all, The Hungry Caterpillar makes it all look so simple and carefree.  Transformation is a process, a changing of character or nature.

www.carriedbylove.com

Transformation is always miraculous, yet never immediate.

The glass window was a mirror that day. God peeled back the veil and invited me to see how His love not only saved me, but is changing me. He demonstrated His love through Jesus, who struggled on my behalf and made it possible for me to escape death. He broke out of the tomb so I could break free from sin’s grip.

Without Jesus, I would still be dead; I would still be in hiding. Jesus gave His life so that I could spend the rest of mine being transformed by His perfect love. I realized that day at the museum a vast expanse of God’s love was left undiscovered in my own heart.

When we made our way in to the butterfly habitat, I was mesmerized by millions of beautiful creatures taking flight. No two seemed alike. Each had its very own flight pattern. It was peaceful and overwhelming all at once.

Only one snatched my breath away. While others flapped and flitted, this butterfly glided effortlessly. Others flashed striking colors, but this one had translucent black and white wings that allowed the sunlight to pour through. I was drawn to the way something greater seemed to carry it along. With outstretched wings, this butterfly rode the wind. No effort, no rush, no trying to be something other than ordinary.

The image of the black and white butterfly lingered long after we loaded the kids back up and drove home. I eventually learned its name. It was no surprise that the creature that mimics paper floating through the air is called a rice paper butterfly or paper kite. God began a conversation that day that led me to this simple discovery: We were made to soar, not strive.

www.carriedbylove.com

God never begins something He won’t finish.

This really isn’t even the beginning.  God has always known me, and He’s always known you. The space between beginning and completion can be a struggle. It can be messy, and it can be hard, but Jesus entered that space and dealt with the part we never could.

This in-between space is about discovering the One who thought of you in the very, very beginning. It’s about laying down everything you carry so that love—Love who sacrificed everything—can carry you, in His arms, back to the Father.

Philippians 1:6 says this: He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.  

This good work is the good news, and it existed before time began. It wasn’t just a solution to the world’s sin problem. The good news of Jesus Christ is an ever present expression of the Father’s heart toward you and me.

Jesus carried your burden to the cross; He carried all the shame and all the guilt; He felt the full weight of being separated from God. His last words were, “It is finished.”

Jesus longs to speak these words of completion over our striving, over our trying to be a little bit better than yesterday, over our working our way back to God. He is the only Way back, and He is the only Way out. He is the only Way to new life.

God is telling His story through our simple and fragile lives. Because this story is good and because this story is true, God can be trusted to carry us all the way through completion. I invite you on a journey you won’t ever outgrow. Let’s discover Him together. Let’s rest in the beauty of this truth . . .

We were made to be carried by love.

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