Welcome! We’re wrapping up our series on embracing a life of becoming. If you’ve new to this series, I invite you to read the previous weeks if you want to catch up!Introduction Week 1 – Birthing, Part 1 Week 2 – Birthing, Part 2 Week 3 – Crawling, Part 1 Week 4 – Crawling, Part 2 Week 5 – Cocooning, Part 1 Week 6 – Cocooning, Part 2
We are all too eager to fly, are we not?
We stare at those who are flying with jealousy — wishing we too, could soar freely, letting the wind carry us. And as we watch — jealous and amazed and yearning — we don’t think about the process that brought them to freedom. We don’t think about their birthing and crawling and cocooning phases.
We just assume they’ve always flown — always only known flying — and that we’ll never be as free as them.
And really, we are thisclose to being as free as them. The only difference between us and them is that they chose to fly.
Choosing to emerge from the cocoon is hard. The cocoon felt safe and secure and cozy and warm…and even if it was a cocoon of testing and purifying, there was a sense of safety.
But the cocoon is designed to make us fly. Because that’s when butterflies undergo such a growth that if you surgically remove one wing, the other three will grow larger and it will still. be. able. to. fly.
It’s echoes what Job said — “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him.” (Job 13:15)
And coming out of that cocoon — transformed completely — requires everything different from us. It requires standing when we never stood. It requires stretching with limbs we’ve never known. It requires using all things new that were born out of our process…and that feels foreign and unfamiliar and lunky and awkward, to be honest.
And because it’s different from what we’re used to, we avoid it completely.
And we just. never. fly.
While flying is freedom and anticipation, it’s mostly uncomfortable and daunting. It’s an excitement and renewed hope — but it also requires action.
God cannot make us fly. We have to choose to fly all on our own, and trust that we will. (tweet)
And to fly, we have to be the ones to break out of the cocoon. And then we have flap those new wings back and forth and up and down to stretch them out and strengthen them and pump blood to the new bones.
And then, we fly.
The outcome of flying could be very different from what you expect because The One orchestrating our flight has ways that are higher.
And it’s scary and fun and uncomfortable and exhilarating, because we have not been this way before.
When we allow God to bring us through a metamorphosis, we are free to fly. And that frees us to be and do everything God has planned in advance for us to do. As ones who now fly, we, like birds, are free to:
- soar high above the earth in the broad expanse of sky (Genesis 1:20)
- find our footing after the storm (Genesis 8:12)
- bring food to those in a valley (I Kings 17:6)
- be known by God (Psalm 50:11)
- be freed from the net and the trap (Psalm 124:7)
- be kept safe by the Lord, like Jerusalem (Isaiah 31:5)
- soar like eagles (Isaiah 40:31)
- nest in the beautiful cedars (Ezekiel 17:23)
- not worry about food and drink for ourselves (Matthew 6:26)
- fly to our place in the desert (cocoon), and are cared for and kept safe from the devil (Rev 12:14)
So we fly in freedom and in purpose, and more — because we more important than the birds (Matthew 10:31). So we fly assuredly and confidently, knowing The One who painted our wings has also painted the skies we fly in. (tweet)
Embracing a life of becoming is to embrace the ebbs and flows of being in process. It’s to recognize what phase of transformation God you’re in, and to settle into it, allowing God to make you a beautiful, flying creature. It’s to stop striving so hard to move on from phase to phase, and to patiently trust that what God is creating is more important than where you are. It’s to recognize the purpose in your phase, and to realize you are not stuck.
It’s to recognize that while you are flying now, you’ll soon be crawling again, too. And to realize that’s not just okay, it’s normal.
Embracing a life of becoming is to flap your wings and take off into the unending sky — and fly.