The Parable of the Butterfly

One day, I sat in the driveway of my aunt’s compound with her driver, waiting for her to join us as we set out for work. Usually, he would drop me off after dropping her at hers. On this particular morning, while we waited, I noticed a white butterfly fluttering restlessly through the green bushes, presumably searching for a place to bed.

As I watched, I silently rooted for it to find the only budded flower among the “yellow bush” hedge that lined the corner of the house. But as the seconds passed, I got lost in thought, kind of projecting my own state of mind onto the little creature’s struggle. Could it be, I wondered, that I have bloomed like this butterfly, yet not found a flower to rest upon? Could it be that I am in my season of beauty and maturity, but still seeking my place of purpose?

Scripture says in Romans 1:20,

“For since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made.”

In other words, creation is a living classroom. Through it, God speaks, reveals, and teaches us His ways. Creation is not just decoration; it is revelation. Through it, God teaches us about Himself, and often, about ourselves.Proverbs also echoes this mystery:

“I went by the field of the slothful… then I saw and considered it well; I looked upon it and received instruction.” (Proverbs 24:30–32)

That morning, as I looked upon that butterfly, I too received instruction. It struck me that this small creature had survived so many phases. It began as an egg, hidden and insignificant. It endured the slow confinement of being a larva, the silent transformation within the cocoon, and finally emerged radiant and free. It had every reason to be at peace, to rest in the beauty of what it had become. Yet at the very moment of bloom, it seemed lost: a perfect creature without a resting place.

And I thought about people, how many of us are like that butterfly? We survive the long seasons of becoming. We endure pressure, loss, stretching, and delay. We fight to grow wings. But when we finally bloom, we still feel displaced, restless, unseen. Could it be that we have focused so much on surviving that we missed the meaning of the season? Could it be that some have blossomed in the wrong gardens, existing in spaces that stifle their essence instead of releasing it? There are beautiful people living in restless motion, fluttering through jobs, relationships, and cities, yet unable to find where they truly belong. It’s not always because they are lost but sometimes, the environment simply isn’t right for what they carry. A butterfly may be perfect, but without a flower, it starves.

The more I pondered, the clearer it became that every butterfly needs a flower, but not every flower is appointed for every butterfly. In the same way, not every environment, friendship, or opportunity is assigned to your destiny. There is an appointed place for every purpose. The tragedy is not in waiting; it’s in settling too soon in a place that cannot feed your purpose.

As the butterfly flew away, I heard within me: You, too, have permission to change your position. We are not sentenced to remain where purpose cannot breathe. God gives us permission to shift; sometimes in thought, sometimes in geography, sometimes in identity. Migration is not rebellion; it is often a covenant step in destiny alignment. God is not static. He moves His people into appointed places, and in those places, He establishes them.

Scripture says, “Moreover, I will appoint a place for My people Israel, and will plant them, that they may dwell in a place of their own and move no more” (2 Samuel 7:10). That promise still stands. God doesn’t merely call us to grow; He calls us to be planted. When we follow His leading, He leads us beside still waters, makes us lie down in green pastures, and restores our souls. In the appointed place, when we go through dark shadows of valleys too deep for words to express, He is still with us and usually, that makes all the difference (Psalm 23).

So if you ever find yourself fluttering without rest, take comfort. The Gardener has not forgotten you. The flower appointed for you still exists, in the field He has chosen. And in time, you will find it, or perhaps, it will bloom right where you are, because the One who began your transformation will not abandon you mid air. He knows the field where you will find rest. And when He plants you there, you will finally understand that it was not just about flying; it was about finding home. A secure place.
And for the one who has wandered afar off, still searching for the place to land , the good news is, God is still coming for you. He is the Shepherd who leaves the ninety-nine to find the one.