Coquinas and Butterflies

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