When I was in high school in Hendersonville, Tennessee (suburban Nashville), we lived next to Drake’s Creek. As part of the reservoir caused by Old Hickory Dam, it was large enough to have marinas. Sometimes chunks of styrofoam which helped support docks would become disengaged and drift away, some of which were quite large. One such piece found its way to the bank behind our house. I decided to take advantage of what could be a mobile message. I asked my parents what they would like to say to the world. (A very humble promise of publicity, I will grant!)
[Our dog Foxy nosing around at the bank of Drake’s Creek, 1983]
This was 1980, one of the more notable presidential election years. I affixed poster board to a wooden pole, creating my floating beacon of enlightenment. The message? “Forget Carter like he did our hostages. Vote Reagan.” It might have lacked nuance, but it expressed my outlook on things political.
Fast forward to my freshman year of college at St. Edward’s University in Austin, Texas. I had become an avid reader / disciple of Ayn Rand. I brought my copy of Atlas Shrugged to lunch in the cafeteria one day and asked a friend to “read us some scripture.” The guys who lived in the dorm room across the hall from me were staunch leftists. We had some interesting and lively discussions, but I thought of them as friends.
Little did I know that within a year and a half, I would join “their team.” I transferred to Middle Tennessee State University, and in an American history class, my professor identified himself as “a free spending liberal.” A metamorphosis was underway—if we want to point to certain events as encouraging such. My first thought regarding his comment was anathema. It wasn’t long until it became amity.
A couple of years later, I experienced a major metamorphosis—an encounter with the living Lord. That was a big-time change. I won’t go into details here. I have spoken of it elsewhere.
Still, finding faith in Christ really didn’t change me politically. Among my fellow Christians, I was often in the minority. At seminary, and after being ordained in the PCUSA, I was more in the mainstream.
I should back up for a moment and speak of a couple other major metamorphoses. While at seminary, I fell in love with she who would become my wife. Very important!
[darling Banu]
Also, I developed a brain tumor, which came to my attention via seizure. There followed surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. One truly devastating result was the loss of hair on top of my head! I began to think of it as BC and AD. (Before cancer and after diagnosis.)
And oh, by the way, I was reunited with my birth mother in 2018. That’s a pretty big thing! It has its own metamorphotic qualities. I’ve said a little bit about it.
And then, the whole world experienced 2020. Now that was and is rupture! We were closed down. We were sheltering in place. We were putting on masks. We were not touching each other. We were (are) being injected by experimental chemicals. Following the science involves asking questions, impartial testing, not following dictates from on high that it’s “safe and effective.”
I have been surprised and dismayed at how so many of my liberal friends have drifted into illiberalism.
Having said that, I don’t believe I am the only one who is experiencing metamorphosis. Be it first, second, third… whatever.
However, if there’s someone who really can speak to metamorphosis, it’s the apostle Paul. Perhaps you know his story in Acts 9. As he says to the Christians in Corinth:
“When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the testimony of God to you with superior speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. My speech and my proclamation were made not with persuasive words of wisdom but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God” (1 Corinthians 2:1-5).
Paul the educated, Paul the intelligent, forewent his use of human wisdom. He decided not to argue them into something (not even Covid-y kind of stuff!). Rather, he confessed his weakness, his fear, his great trembling. He decided, he determined, to see only in them Jesus Christ—and Christ crucified. And oh yes, relying on “a demonstration of the Spirit and of power.”
That is a true metamorphosis.
There are events in our lives we might consider watershed moments. We choose changes, or just as often—maybe more—we are chosen. For the metamorphosis to be complete, to take hold, we have work to do. We can embrace these realities or fight like the devil to resist them. Actually, fighting like the devil might work out for the best!
May we all be metamorphosized into discoveries of wonder.