By Rev. Dr. Harold Marrero
There are seasons in life when movement stops making sense. The answers that once felt clear begin to blur. The path that seemed obvious dissolves into uncertainty. We find ourselves suspended between what was and what will be. Something has ended. Something new has not yet taken form.
Over these weeks in our Metamorphosis series, we have been following the life cycle of the butterfly as a mirror for our own becoming. After the hunger of the caterpillar and the shedding of its skin comes a moment that feels almost impossible.
The caterpillar stops. It attaches itself to a branch and enters the chrysalis. From the outside, it appears motionless. Nothing seems to be happening. Yet inside, everything is changing. Structure softens. Form dissolves. The old self releases its certainty so that a new self can begin to take shape.
We know these moments in our own lives. Times when the world around us feels chaotic and overwhelming. When anxiety spills into anger, fear hardens into division, and people begin to turn against one another in their search for stability. From our neighborhoods to the global stage, we see how easily uncertainty can become frustration and fear of change.
In moments like these, our culture urges us to move faster. Solve the problem. Pick a side. Push forward. But the chrysalis offers a different wisdom. It invites us into stillness.
Across many spiritual traditions—Gnostic, contemplative, and mystical—there is a word for this space: Repose. Repose is not laziness or avoidance. It is a deep calmness of the soul, a place where we pause long enough to see clearly. In repose, the mind settles. The heart softens. The noise of the world quiets just enough for new possibilities to appear.
When we rest in this state, we begin to notice something remarkable. There is rarely only one path forward. Where chaos once looked like confusion, we begin to see choices. Where fear once narrowed our vision, we begin to recognize the many ways we might move through the world with courage and compassion. Repose gives us perspective.
Like the caterpillar hanging quietly in the chrysalis, we are invited to trust that transformation is already unfolding beneath the surface of our lives. Stillness does not mean nothing is happening. Stillness is where deeper work begins.
This weekend, before Sunday, I invite you to practice repose. Create a small pocket of quiet in your day tomorrow. Sit with your breath. Step away from the constant urgency of the world. Allow yourself a moment to simply be present.
And as you rest there, held by the quiet love of this community and the wider web of life, ask yourself: What might be emerging within me right now that I cannot yet see?
You do not need to rush the answer. The chrysalis opens in its own time. And when it does, the wings are ready. Remember, Metamorphosis is still unfolding.