One of the books I’ve been reading during this time of trying to decide what comes next in my life has been ‘When the heart waits’ by Sue Monk Kidd. Recommended by a friend it contains lots of helpful ideas to think about, particularly for people in a period of transition or waiting. One of the key images she uses is that of a chrysalis, where a caterpillar lies seemingly dormant until they emerge as a beautiful butterfly. In her example the chrysalis stage seemed to last for months, and the changes in her own life took a period of maybe a year or more so I felt like I was perhaps rushing the book reading it a chapter a day, even though I was making notes.
Looking it up now, it seems most butterflies are in that chrysalis stage for about 10-14 days but I found more about black swallowtail butterflies which suggests they can be in a chrysalis all winter, up to 9 months or more. Returning to her description of the butterfly which emerges in the final chapter of the book, it seems to match this black swallowtail pattern, black wings with orange and blue dots. Rather different to my favourite blue ones.
After some enjoyable weeks travelling in Germany, Switzerland and Italy visiting more tourist locations at quite a rapid pace, I was glad to return to Switzerland for a more restful time. I’ve been staying in a prayer/community house between Bern and Thun for just over a month now and it seems like an ideal place to be waiting on God, praying and reading and researching as well as contributing to the life of the house with some leading worship, gardening, cooking and cleaning. I had been keen to travel to Canada but each month I’ve found that the borders are still closed due to Covid-19, and I’ve settled on Switzerland as a good alternative for now with lakes, mountains and a prayer community to join. I wasn’t keen to go to Canada for the winter – even the grizzly bears there hibernate from around November to April, waiting until the warmer spring weather to emerge from their cosy den. Maybe a lot of people are feeling like they are entering enforced hibernation during the winter lockdown; stocking up on essentials and not going out much.
I can’t say I feel quite like a butterfly or a grizzly bear but I do feel like I’m waiting for some sort of shift or revelation. I do feel like I have some ideas of what God is saying might be next for me, and it’s not so much a dramatic transformation as settling in to things he’s been saying for a long time. I am grateful to have some time to rest and take stock and eat nice food, without having to rush into a new job. It’s been good to have more time and space to pray, although one of the things from Sue Monk Kidd which struck me most clearly was about waiting with Jesus while he prays. She writes:
“The emphasis isn’t on what we’re doing but on what God is doing. Ultimately we don’t heal, transform or create ourselves. We posture ourselves in ways that allow God to heal, transform, and create us. The posture of sitting while Jesus prays reminds us that the Spirit is active and speaking. Our part is to learn to sit, yielding to God’s activity in us, opening ourselves to divine prayer, listening to the silent words. As Father Michael, monk at the Abbey of Gethsemani, said to me, “Ultimately, waiting is letting God be God.”” (p134)
So although there is more I could say about what might be happening, mainly I’m still waiting. The tension between waiting for it and going for it is a key theme within the musical Hamilton, with Aaron Burr singing that he’s ‘willing to wait for it’ while Hamilton is more keen to emphasise how he’s “young, scrappy and hungry and [he’s] not throwing away [his] shot”. Lin-Manuel Miranda managed to balance both of these necessities, to wait and to act in the commencement address he gave at his old Uni Wesleyan in 2015. The whole speech is great but I’ve tried to link directly to 9:29 where he makes the most direct comparisons, moving on to 14 mins where he explains “In reality, you’ll always be rushing and waiting at the same time”.
In these autumnal mornings, the mountain view from my windows isn’t often visible. I have to wait for the mist and fog to clear from the valleys, and some days I don’t see past the edge of the nearby wood. Other days the peaks are visible for a while, then the mist rises and clouds cover them again. Even when I can’t see them, I believe that the mountains are there, in the same way that I believe the sun is still there on a cloudy day and that God is still there even when I can’t see him. The sun will emerge from behind the clouds and the mountains will emerge again from the mists, and they are both worth the wait.
In Psalm 27, David talks about seeking God’s face, and asking Him to teach him His way and lead him in a straight path. He concludes:
I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. Psalm 27
Hearten Soul 