I have a problem that’s completely beyond my control. It taunts me daily from behind the glass, motionless yet powerful. It’s a caterpillar in a cocoon, and I don’t know if it’s ever going to emerge.
The reason that’s a problem is because I have an inquisitive almost-five-year-old who regularly asks me about it. Just this week, he asked me pointedly: “Dad, what happens if it doesn’t turn into a butterfly?”
It’s beyond my control. I just don’t know. Despite my greatest efforts or most earnest prayers, I can’t make that inch-long caterpillar that we harvested off the dill in the backyard and so tenderly took care of complete its metamorphosis and turn into the brilliant Eastern Swallowtail butterfly that we have so longingly hoped for. It was supposed to emerge about six weeks after it entered its cocoon, the internet says, but the internet also says that sometimes they overwinter without explanation. All of our hope is suspended in that papery brown sarcophagus.
17th-century pastor-theologian Samuel Rutherford famously said that “Grace grows best in winter.” The Scottish winters were certainly dark and long. In Niagara, too, we feel constrained by an arctic grip. We look desperately for signs of spring, wishing the wintry weather away in exchange for green grass and brilliant blooms. We wish our winters away.
Whether that caterpillar ever emerges or not, of this I can be sure – God does his best work in the dark. In this Lenten season, whether we enter the wilderness willingly or if it comes upon us, our hope is that God’s grace is always at work, and it seems especially when we perceive it the least. When the ground is covered in a blanket of snow, and the sun hasn’t shone for what feels like an eternity, what’s true is that the earth is still stirring and brimming with life. Beyond our sight, there is all sorts of microbiology that is coordinating to burst forth with new life at the first feel of thaw. Grace is always growing.
I believe that there is a caterpillar transforming into something entirely new in that cocoon, but even if there isn’t, my hope is in the grace of God that is always leading me into new life. This grace will lead us home.
Grace and peace,
Pastor Alexander
















