At the end of each semester, students in the Doctor of Ministry cohort are required to write a 1000 word reflection of the past semester, focusing on our formation. It is not graded, but simply deemed ‘satisfactory’ or ‘unsatisfactory’.
(We’re required to write a reflection on an assigned book too, and I may yet make a blog post out of that too, because it was most thought-provoking.)
Do you think the Reverend Doctor who reads our submissions will mind that my reflection relates to the formation of a ladybird by the front door?!
Let me share with you the opening paragraph of my pondering.
As I prayerfully reflect on semester 2, 2024, I feel that the Lord gave me a picture of a ladybird struggling to emerge from its pupal case. Or perhaps it is simply that a ladybird is literally struggling to emerge by the front door as I type these words. The dichotomy between ‘a picture from the Lord’ and what is happening about one as one reflects is artificial. In any case, I shall frame my reflections in this document to focus on the need for struggle, hope and perseverance in various parts of life, just like that of the poor creature outside my door struggling to transition into life as a mature ladybird.
This? That? This and that?
It’s true. Of course. I did prayerfully reflect on the semester. Did I then get distracted by the wriggling, wrinkled blob by the door? Or did God draw my attention to it? Does it have to be ‘this’ OR ‘that’? Can it not be ‘this’ AND ‘that’? Or even 65% ‘this’ and 35% ‘that’?
I have been watching the pupal case for the past ten days and wondering when the ladybird would emerge. Earlier yesterday (when I wrote the reflection), I saw it arch back and forth. I’ve been back and forth myself between the home office and the front door ever since and taken about 60 photos with the macro lens. Fear not. I’ll only share a few here.
Fancy vocabulary and mushy brain
A ladybird larva, I’ve learnt, becomes a ‘pupa’. it doesn’t have a ‘cocoon’ or a ‘chrysalis’, but rather, the creature transforms into a ladybird inside the ‘pupal case’. The mature beetle eventually makes a little hole in the pupal case through which it climbs. All that I learnt as I searched online for the correct entomological vocabulary for my college paper.
‘Entomology’ is, of course, the study of insects (as opposed to ‘etymology’ which is the study of words), so I figure that ‘entomological vocabulary’ is ‘vocabulary related to insects’. My quite ordinary little brain is feeling like a mushy ‘no-longer-a-larva-but-not-yet-a-ladybird creature inside a pupal case’ by this stage of a busy semester. That description could also have formed part of my reflection on the past few months too, but I spared the Reverend Doctor from such a messy image.
Constrained
The ladybird-to-be must be SO squashed and uncomfortable in that pupal case. No wonder it keeps trying to stretch and break out. Up and down, up and down it bobs, its spiny little legs just visible if you look carefully. I want to help it. Perhaps if I were to start at the dried, crusty old end of the pupal case and make a little hole for it, it could escape its restraints. Yet I know that would mean certain death to this little creature, for it is not yet ready to emerge. In fact, I wonder if perhaps it needs the stretching and straining as part of its formation.
That’s a little like my academic studies this semester. I’m ready to research, and through that research, to impact the world … except that I’m apparently not. I am excited about the research proposal that is taking FOREVER to put together. The college allows me two semesters, but I had hoped to have completed it in one. Apparently the college knows what I need. My supervisor tells me that I’m far from ready to be released upon the world yet too, and I trust her, but really, is all this reading, writing and referencing necessary?!
‘An emerging scholar’ is how my supervisor describes me. Emerging?! I think of the ladybird in that pupal case by the front door. Yes, that feels about right. A mushy mess restrained by a crackly crusty shell.
Patience, patience. The time will come … eventually.
Perseverance
There is hope. All being well, the ladybird will emerge into the sunshine some day soon. But until that hope is realised, perseverance is needed, The forming ladybird needs to persist with its wriggling and straining. That is part of its formation. I wonder if ladybugs have muscles? They must, surely. Oooooh, there is an interesting avenue of investigation that I could pursue rather than persevere with the task at hand. What was I saying? Oh, yes – perseverance.
(Yes – ladybirds do have muscles. I just checked. Of course they do.)
Perseverance … that is what I was saying. Build that muscle slowly, slowly, slowly within the confines of the pupal case, little beetle. It’s somewhat like my slow, slow progress with my academic project proposal. It might not be ready yet, but with repeated rewrites, each time incorporating the feedback provided, it will get there. And then I will be ready. And then I can make a practical contribution to missiology in my field. And that is the hope that enables me to persevere.
Did first-century Rome have ladybirds?
The apostle Paul wrote something along those lines of persevering because of hope to suffering Christians in Rome too. Only he did not refer to ladybirds. He might have done so, however, had he thought about it. Surely they would have had ladybirds in the Middle East in the first century? But back to the point. This passage was quite special to me in 2015 during a particularly difficult patch of life, and I am reminded of it again now.
There’s more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we’re never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can’t round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!
Romans 5:3-5 The Message
Just do it
You may wonder if I submitted all this natter about beetles to the Reverend Doctor yesterday. I did not. I submitted a nicely written reflection that covered in a methodical fashion the past semester, and which was framed around themes of ‘struggling’, ‘hope’ and ‘perseverance’. I wanted to include just one photo, but alas, the system through which we submitted would only accept text. It’s probably just as well.
All that is to say, dear friends and family, that persevering through difficulties is not all bad. In fact, it is often quite good. That’s what I’m telling myself as I face a lot more reading and a rewrite of my methodology proposal over the coming weeks. Then the literature review. Then no doubt a rewrite of the literature review. And all that before I even submit my proposal to the powers-that-be, let alone defend it before a confirmation-of-candidature panel, submit an ethics approval request and then begin the research.
It’s good. It’s very good. I’m emerging. Just persevere, self. Keep going, one word, one paragraph, one page at a time.
And that is the end of this reflection on the semester past in a non-academic format. Thanks for reading along. I hope it was ‘satisfactory’.
One reply on “Ladybird, ladybird…”
Very satisfactory indeed!