There’s a story I NEED to share with you.

This is a story for those who are asking God questions and waiting for answers. It’s a story for those who doubt, those who search, and those who agonize in the stillness while God remains silent.

This is a true story. This is my butterfly story – “When God Answered.”

When God Answered

            I was mad at God, and I was going to tell Him about it. I walked to the back of our property to escape my family, back to the far corner where trees stand guard, the yard slopes, and the house disappears from sight. Mostly, I wanted to disappear from the world and all its demands, expectations, and pressures to find an answer from the only One who could tell me, the only One who could truly know:

            “Okay, God,” I said out loud. “What am I supposed to do with my life? Am I going in the right direction? What do you want from me?”

            Silence answered back, loud and clear.

            I began to pace, pulling my cold hands inside my thin jacket sleeves that drooped and flapped as I walked, talking with my hands. The evening sunlight peeked through the trees, huddling nearby, trying to keep warm. 

            “Do you even care?” I asked.

            I thought the silence would kill me, or maybe I wanted it to. I considered dropping to my knees and sinking into the earth, pulling the dirt over top of me so it could swallow me whole. This kind of pain was entirely new to me, and the deep wound in my soul wasn’t something that could heal from within over time. I hurt, and no one could help but God. Only He wasn’t talking.

            That’s when the anger changed, and the hurt grew much more terrifying as it merged dangerously with doubt. If God isn’t answering, then is He really even there?

            The thought was worse than a lifetime of silence.

            “Ok, God,” I said, speaking up. “I’m going to be like Gideon here. If you’re there and if you even care about me at all, let me see a butterfly.”

            And so, I waited. The trees chattered and creaked from the wind as if keeping time. I looked behind me at the yard, the grass staring back. I watched through the trees. No butterfly.

            I began to sob so hard my breath was gone, and I thought a part of me was going to rupture. But I didn’t care. I was absolutely heartbroken and devastated. Not only did I not get an answer, but I felt completely abandoned and alone. 

            As I walked back to the house, broken and defeated, I wiped my nose on my jacket sleeve. My hands were frozen, my feet were wet, and only one thought gave me the strength to keep moving:  He must have a reason. I clung to that thought when my husband met me at the door and asked if I was okay. What could I say? I wasn’t. I felt numb but excruciating pain at the same time. My faith was crumbling at my feet in a pile of doubt and blowing away from my own breath. And I had no idea how to fix it or if I should even try.

            A few days later, with the sting from my one-sided conversation with God still very present, I left for work.  As our church janitor, I needed to wipe the fingerprints off the glass doors, sweep the sanctuary, and keep things neat and tidy. Neat and tidy. Oh sure, I thought. No problem, even though I’m living in the aftermath of some sort of war in my spirit, and my mind is a chaotic and painful mess. 

            I gathered my cleaning supplies and headed outside to clean the front door. The air was crisp, and there was dew on the flowers planted under the windows. As I was about to douse the door with glass cleaner, I noticed a moth stuck in a spider’s web on the black metal frame.

            “Oh no you don’t,” I said to the spider, oblivious to whether anyone around cared to listen to the ramblings of a lone woman talking to a door. 

            Carefully, I lifted my finger underneath the moth’s body and gently pulled it away from the web, mindful of the spider’s whereabouts since I despise those creepy things and did NOT want one crawling up my arm during my rescue operation. But I didn’t see a spider. 

            What I did see, what I felt, literally made me gasp. I felt a tiny pop on the tip of my finger as a Monarch butterfly opened its dark, ginger-shaded wings for the first time. As I admired its glistening, damp wings, I finally understood I hadn’t rescued a moth from a spider’s trap but a butterfly from its chrysalis.

            And there it perched on my fingertip, this amazing gift from God, just for me. A surge of indescribable joy grew inside, bubbling up and overflowing, filling those dark and empty holes within, those I’d drilled the other day, or rather, those cracks when I let my guard down, and the enemy slithered right in to deliver thoughts of foolishness to my mind, doubting the very existence of God. It was a powerful lie that was sure to corrode my faith had God not transformed such nonsense into a tangible, magnificent display of His truth.

            I don’t know how long I stood there, but it was one of the most memorable moments of my life. I had asked God to show me a butterfly if He cared or was even there. But instead, He allowed me to hold a brand-new one. He wasn’t just giving me a glimpse of Himself or His presence; He was drawing me near, pulling me close, and whispering through the slightest vibration of a newborn butterfly’s wings:  I’m right here, and I do care.

            I believe Him.

A different butterfly but the same unchanging God moving in my life.

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As I reflect on that life-changing experience with God, I need to share another layer of this story.

Remember, I had asked God, “What am I supposed to do with my life? Am I going in the right direction?  What do you want from me?” Well, I’d been feeling the pressure from others (and myself!) to enter the ministry, and with so many opinions and options swirling around, I felt confused, frustrated, and angry that God wouldn’t take a seat right in front of me and tell me what to do. He’d called me at a young age to write, and I’d even had my Christmas Beginnings in writing. But I wondered, “Did I get it right? Am I going the right way? Is writing enough?”

I found out it IS enough when it’s God’s plan. And it was just like our amazing God to use this butterfly story to show me I was going the right way. (Don’t you love how He works?!) Look what doors He opened, blazing the path for me to see:

“When God Answered” was published in the January 2016 issue of “The Outreacher.” After it appeared there, I was asked to share my story on the radio, so I was interviewed by Jim Berni with WNPQ the Light 95.9FM. Later, I appeared live on PJNET.tv with Mark Prasek, where I shared, guess what? My butterfly story! There have been countless times I’ve relived this story at speaking engagements, during times of testimony, and while gathering with new friends who ask the same questions:

“What am I supposed to do with my life? Are you even there, God?”

Oh, my friend. If you’re asking those questions, believe God is there and trust that He will answer you. Cry out and wait for Him. Wait for His answer. Don’t allow the world’s expectations and pressures to pull you away from His plans for you. He has the best plan for your life.

Me? Writing is my ministry, and I will keep imagining, encouraging, crafting, and creating until I go home, where I might find a familiar monarch butterfly flitting around my heavenly room, waiting to rest on my hand or a string of Christmas lights hanging overhead.