Transformation

The caterpillars have disappeared!  In their place are little blobby teardrops of shiny cream.  They are going through metamorphosis now, a messy process, according to biologists, where their insides are broken down and reconstituted into something quite different than what they used to be.  Not all will make it through this stage, and quite frankly, it sounds quite painful.  I bet if a caterpillar Jesus had spoken to them, or even Robbie for that matter, they would have said, “Too Much Information! I don’t want to know!  Thanks but no thanks, I don’t want to be a butterfly, I’m quite content to remain a caterpillar.”

The first time I remember someone giving me too much information about who I was and what I could become was in vacation bible school when I was about 10.  Every year, my parents would send us to camp at the big Baptist Church out by the highway and we’d happily play games, make crafts and sing songs.  It was the first time I ever saw a guitar played in church, which was a little scandalous for the times.  It was also the first time that I discovered that not all Christians think alike.  That summer I had to make a string art fish with the bible verse, “In God I trust, I am not afraid.  What can mere man do to me?”.  That, combined with some rather vivid descriptions of Hell where everyone who wasn’t a good Christian would go, gave me the message that I was missing a key to a safer life.  The grownups were constantly reminding that we had to let Jesus become our personal lord and savior and open our sin-filled hearts to be saved.  I’m not sure I understood all this saved business, but I let a grown-up tell me the magic words to recite to save me from Hell.  I desperately wanted the bravery and certainty the grown-ups promised.  I thought that if I recited the words, God would protect me from the kids who bullied me at school and I would never be afraid of them again.  Unfortunately, my new-found smugness at being saved did not help me make friends or calm my enemies.

There were other things I learned in camp.  How God was in control of everything and we would get whatever we prayed for, but the beautiful pony never did show up in my family’s back yard.  How the world was only 6,000 years old and dinosaurs were a lie made up by Satan.  That was hard because I loved coloring the left-over hand outs of ankylosaurus and brontosaurus that my dad brought home from his science classes.  I struggled with the idea that I could love God or dinosaurs but not both.

In the end the trips to Drumheller and the love I had for my dad won out over a God that promised miracles but couldn’t even muster up one decent pony.  I gave up on the bible and on the idea that God could help me feel brave when facing scary people.

Thank goodness for my United Church Sunday School teachers who didn’t see the Bible and Science as enemies or force me to pretend pterodactyls didn’t exist.  They encouraged me to see the bible as a place of great wisdom, especially in verses that suggest God is still teaching us, that Jesus couldn’t teach everything we needed to know, but would send the Spirit to keep educating us about our beautiful world.

We do ourselves and God a great disservice when we close our hearts and minds to new learnings and new guidance.  When we think we have all the answers.  When we quote scriptures to show our spiritual superiority.

Now, I don’t think there’s anyone here who does that.  Some of us are more likely to avoid the Bible for fear of being seen as old-fashioned, stodgy or judgmental, but that’s not necessarily good either.  Bouncing from one extreme to another isn’t the answer.

Truth be told, there are a lot of people who have been hurt by folks who told them how to think and what to think about God and the Bible, who don’t hear the idea that there is more to be learned about God.  They are afraid to come to church because they will be judged and shamed or taught something that seems completely archaic or superstitious or even irrelevant.

Yet I wonder if we buy into that discomfort too easily, not wanting to offend our friends and neighbors.  That’s where I hear a challenge in Paul’s letter reminding us that our faith and openness to God’s real presence in our lives does make a difference for us.  Paul talks about us having peace with God, being calm in times of misfortune, and knowing that our trials and suffering are not something to be ashamed of, but they can become times of transformation.

Twice I put a caterpillar on my desk trying to watch it spin a cocoon, but they just hung there.  The moment I left for lunch, they got to work and when I got back, voila, they were transformed.  In fact, I think there was no spinning involved, but maybe their skin shrank or something.  No idea how it happened, where their spiky black hairs went or their little feet.  It’s still a mystery to me. 

Paul sees our suffering the same way.  A transforming mystery.  There are certainly times where we need to walk away from suffering, when we are in an abusive relationship or tell the teacher when we are being bullied or ask for help if we realize we are bullying.  But it’s comforting to hear Paul tell us that we are also being transformed into brave, faith-filled loving souls capable of great things.  Such great things in fact that we too will share in the glory of God.  Wow!

Until then, let us keep learning as bravely as we can to listen to the voice of truth gradually transforming us into the very image of God.