By: Rev. Dr. Harold Marrero
Last week we reflected on the gift of repose. In a world that keeps pulling at our attention, repose can seem small or unimportant. But repose is not laziness, or avoidance. It is a sacred pause. It is the decision to slow down long enough to breathe, to listen, and to notice what is happening within us.
So much of life reminds us how little control we really have. We cannot force people to change. We cannot make the world more tender by worrying harder. We cannot keep others from disappointing us, hurting us, or failing to become what we hoped they would be. What we do have is our response. We have the quiet, difficult power of choosing how we meet the chaos around us.
That sounds simple, but many of us know it is not easy. We carry old hurts. Old fears. Old defense mechanisms. We live inside patterns that once helped us survive. Maybe they protected us when we were younger. Maybe they kept us safe in moments when there was no other way. But what once protected us can also keep us stuck. We find ourselves reacting to old pain instead of responding to the present truth. We stay loyal to versions of ourselves that were built for survival, even when they no longer help us live fully.
That is why repose matters. Like the caterpillar entering the chrysalis, there are times when we are called to step back from the noise and enter a different kind of space. The difficult and transformative space of our becoming. The chrysalis is a liminal place, the sacred middle between what was and what will be. From the outside, it may look still. It may even look like nothing is happening. But inside, transformation is underway.
This week in our Metamorphosis series, we turn to the mystery of imaginal cells. Inside the chrysalis, tiny clusters of cells begin to gather. They carry the blueprint of the butterfly. At first, the old system resists them. It attacks what it does not recognize. The emerging future feels like a threat to the familiar past.
That image lands close to the heart. When something new begins to rise within us, it often feels fragile. A new boundary. A new honesty. A deeper self-respect. A calling we can barely name. A courage that has not yet found its voice. And often, before that new truth can grow, something in us tries to shut it down. Stay the same. Do not disrupt things. Do not risk being different. Do not become too much. Do not become too real.
But the work of transformation asks something else of us. It asks us to protect what is emerging. What if the anxiety, fear, anger, shame, and grief we carry are not the end of the story? What if this inward journey is not about condemning those parts of ourselves, but about entering the chrysalis honestly enough that something new can begin to form? What if repose is not just rest, but trust in the slow work of becoming?
This is the invitation before us now. To be still long enough to notice what is taking shape. To become curious about the tender truth inside us. To nurture the part of ourselves that is just beginning to live in a new way.
So before Sunday, make a little room for introspection. Sit quietly. Breathe deeply. Ask yourself: What is trying to emerge in me? What part of me needs protection and encouragement? What old pattern am I ready to shed? What quiet courage is beginning to grow? The new self begins small. It does not arrive fully formed. It asks for patience. It asks for gentleness. It asks for faith.
Friends, be still. Metamorphosis is happening.