Let me quote Honoré de Balzac today, “When the heart is full, the lips are silent.”
Unexpectedly, I came upon twin good news, like twin butterflies coming out of one chrysalis. And because the heart is full, there is no way my lips can utter a squeak.
That’s half true, of course.
I always blurt out every good news the moment I receive it. But this time, both news constrain me—one has been “embargoed” (that’s what the email said), and the other can’t be announced till the proper time.
So why am I even blabbing about them?
I want to honor the Creator of butterflies. As I asked in one of my books . . .
How can a squiggly, ugly worm morph into a beautiful, colorful flying wonder? Does this crawling misery know that one day, it will morph into epiphany? Does it realize it will transform into a new spectacular shape with exquisite design? And then when it flies freely, sipping sweet nectar from one lovely flower to another, does it not show the fullness of grace?
From worm to butterfly—this is what unexpected good news does, especially after having been barraged with bad news and thrown down into a dark, dunk place.
I am changing my header, in thanksgiving for the twin butterflies that doubly delighted me one dreary day.
“For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” John 1:16 (ESV)