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| Photo by Island Ecology |
As we strolled the beach last evening, my husband and I
were struck by the vast number of coquina shells at the water’s edge. These
tiny, colorful shells are often called butterfly shells because they are
bivalves with a wing shape, and when the two halves are still attached to one
other they resemble butterflies in flight, particularly given their pastel or
jewel-like tones and radiating patterns like the sun’s rays at dawn.
At first I was delighted to be collecting so many of these
intact specimens in all the colors of the rainbow. But then I realized that the
stretch of shore where these were spread out, like miniature brooches in a
jewel box, was the same stretch that we had previously nicknamed “Coquina
Beach” because many live coquinas used to burrow into the sand with each incoming
wave, only to resurface as the wave receded.
Shore birds, especially long-legged brown ones in the
plover family, love to feast on live coquinas, and we have often spotted them
fishing for their dinner and gobbling down their prey. But last evening, these
nearly tame creatures were curiously absent, except for one dejected loner poking
at seaweed with his long beak, apparently to no avail.
It made me wonder if the recent heat wave, with Gulf
temperatures of 100 degrees Fahrenheit bleaching out and devastating the coral,
was also taking its toll on the delicate coquinas. Perhaps that was why their
empty shells were so plentiful, while live specimens and their predators were
so scarce.
A saddening thought, and yet the shells we collected were a
lasting reminder of the beauty and creativity of God’s intelligent design. It
reminded me of the life cycle of the butterfly, perhaps an even greater example
of God’s signature in His creation.
A lowly caterpillar crawls along the dirt, often as drab as
its surroundings, until one day it spins a shroud-like chrysalis around itself.
There it remains, outwardly dormant for some time. In this phase, which
resembles death to the casual observer, the caterpillar completely digests
itself, and its molecules are rearranged into a nascent butterfly, still
entombed within the chrysalis.
But at exactly the right moment, the butterfly struggles to
free itself from the chrysalis. Good-intentioned humans, witnessing this
struggle, have sometimes cut the chrysalis to “help” the butterfly emerge, only
to find that their actions have killed the fragile creature. The struggle for
liberation is an essential part of the transition from caterpillar to
butterfly, as it pumps fluid into the nascent wings and strengthens them.
This metamorphosis is often used as a symbol of being saved
by trusting in the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ (1
Corinthians 15:1-4) as the only Way to Heaven (John 14:6).
While we are dead in our sins (Ephesians 2:1-5), we are base
creatures like the caterpillar, unable to lift our heads from the filth around
us (1 Corinthians 6:9-11). Before we can be born again (John
3:3-8), we must die to our fleshly sin nature (Romans 8:13; Colossians
3:5), much as the caterpillar destroys itself within the chrysalis.
But when the Holy Spirit has completed this process within our heart – often as we struggle to shed the old man (Romans 6:6)
and yield to Him-- we emerge as a new creature in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17),
capable of soaring to heavenly places in Him (Ephesians 1:3; 2:6).
We are then clothed in the beauty of His righteousness (Isaiah 61:10).
Our sin-stained garments are washed white as snow (Isaiah 1:18)
and replaced with the finest robe, like the one the Father placed on the
returned Prodigal Son (Luke 15:22).
The butterfly’s life as a beautiful, flying creature is
ephemeral at best, lasting only a short time and ending soon after laying eggs
that will hatch into caterpillars and renew the cycle. Hopefully, the live
mollusks that left behind the empty coquina shells also had a chance to
reproduce, so that one day, perhaps when the weather is more favorable,
“Coquina Beach” will once again be teeming with life, providing a nourishing
buffet for the shore birds.
Our life on earth as born-again Christians is nearly as
transient (James 4:14), perhaps even more so now as plagues,
famine, natural disasters, wars, and other labor pains of the End Times
increase in frequency and intensity (Matthew 24). But when we
die, we are with Jesus (2 Corinthians 5:8), and one day at the Rapture we shall have glorified bodies (1 Corinthians 15:40-58) more
magnificent than we could ever imagine! These bodies will soar through the
skies as we rise to meet Him and may even be able to instantly transport us to
another place or to walk through walls (John 20:19), as Jesus did
in His glorified body!
But in the meantime, may we too be fruitful, like the
coquina or butterfly. Some of us may be
blessed with children, a great gift from God (Psalm 127:3-5), and
even more blessed when our children accept Christ and we have played some small part in bringing them into God’s family.
Yet all Christians, whether or not we have offspring, can
be fruitful by doing all we can in our brief lifespan on earth as children of
God and joint-heirs with Christ. May we be good stewards of our time, talent
and treasure, to pray for and witness to others, to encourage and uplift the
saints, and to serve God wherever He places us until He brings us home or comes
again!
© 2023 Laurie Collett
