TRANSFORMATION

“And concerning the resurrection of the dead, have you not read what was said to you by God, ‘I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? He is not the God of the dead but of the living.”

Matthew 22: 31-32

Dew-soaked native grass saturated my boots as well as the bottom half of my pant legs with each step. I passed the small pond, stopping only for a moment to watch a few frogs dive for safety. But the promise of a new hunting season propelled me to slip in and out of the woods with haste. I wanted to check the trail cameras one last time even though I knew the lingering heat of summer would postpone my first bow hunt of the year beyond opening day. Still, the anticipation of autumn’s promises renewed the hope of what I might encounter in the woods.

Halfway to the first camera, while I watched the creek bottom for signs of deer activity, I stepped face-first into a spider web. After spitting and swiping and spinning to free myself of that creepy feeling a web leaves on your face, I chuckled. If a deer had been watching me, I am sure the hilarity of a man dancing with a spider (or the horror of it) would have sent the quadruped bolting for its nearest sanctuary.

After composing myself, I continued along the trail to the camera, which I had strategically placed on the other side of a marshy area requiring me to slosh through ten steps of muck and water. At one point, my boot stuck and I almost tripped into the mud. That is when a pair of white butterflies lifted from an unseen perch and effortlessly fluttered somewhere into the nearby branches where leaves twittered just enough to give the light above them a sparkle like that of a long lost treasure.

Later, after hanging a stand, I thought about the butterflies and the dew and the breeze. I thought about mortality and even questioned what it is my faith tells me about it. In the end, I have to believe in that which I cannot see. That or I do not believe at all. It prompted me to ask a question—a question we all have to face sooner or later. A question we sanitize and do everything we can to avoid.

“What is death?”

I suppose it is healthy that we do not dwell on it, but is it healthy to never question? To never explore why we are her? Ultimately, that is the question. A question we may never know the full answer to in this life. But the butterfly did not bring me to that question. It brought me to the question of death. Not why, but what?

Is it simply the end, as one of my atheist friends believes? Is it a quick ticket to Heaven in some sort of spirit form, but only for believers in Jesus Christ? Or is it a transformation like that of sublimation of H20 or the metamorphosis of a caterpillar or a frog? Or is it something reserved especially for the creature created in the image of God— something more like the Transfiguration. I know what my faith teaches me and I do believe it, but if we never question, how will we ever find the truth? God gave us things He gave no other creature, but He also gave us some of the same qualities of those other creatures. In doing so, maybe He has left us a few tiny clues to what He has planned.  

I am no theologian. But when I see a butterfly, when I see a cloud, when I see a tadpole, I see a process instituted by the ultimate scientist and the ultimate artist—the ultimate Creator.

I walked away from the woods that day with more questions than answers. Maybe it is better that way. God loves us enough to allow us the awe of discovery, the wonder of curiosity, and the beauty of mystery. He loves us enough to let us ask questions and to accept or reject the answers we do or do not find.

The next time I venture into those woods, I will be carrying a bow and will have a different focus. If it is God’s will, a buck will pass below my tree stand. I imagine the questions of death and life and purpose will probably provoke my curiosity once again. Until then, I will try to embrace the day given to me. It is good to seek answers, but true belief and true faith allow us to trust that God knows what He is doing and that whatever we do not fully understand or whatever trials we may encounter do ultimately have a purpose. If believing that allows us to see the glory of God in a butterfly and strengthens our faith, then maybe the mystery and fear of death will transform into the trust and hope which can bring peace to our hearts.

I guess there is only one way I will ever know for sure what death is. And that is okay. I do know I was once mostly dead inside and that God's grace is transforming. I also know when that grace begins to transform, we truly begin to live.