David Butler

just some food for thought… . in this season of togetherness

just a thought i was having this morning . in this season of believing . the mark of what God calls good

i used to feel bad for them . and in a way i still do . mary and joseph . in that stinky manger . but when i read that story . about the long journey…in traffic no doubt . and the busy-ness of bethlehem . with all the bickering crowds . short on money . no room . no time . no peace . i actually start to envy the manger . a place to get away . a place where she pondered in her heart . a place where Jesus came . it’s where the angels sent the shepherds . not to the busy inn . but to the quiet of the manger . same city . different spot . “you will find Him” they said . perhaps they meant that as both a promise and a pattern . that during the busy of this season . with the crowds . and the traffic . and the “no room” for anything . go find your manger . go find Him

i won’t ever get sick of these…

i was tempted to not even be sad . cause it was his own fault . and i tell him six hundred times a day to clean up his stuff . and five ninety-nine of those he ignores . as if my voice is in a register he doesn’t process . so when i backed out of the garage . and ran over his football . i had my rebuttal ready . it’s your own fault dude . which it was . it was totally preventable . but that didn’t stop his crocodile tears from breaking my heart . and it made me think of me . and about God . and how often He warns . and warns . and warns . and i still do what i do . sometimes those things that bring tears . and He matches them with His own . even if it was preventable . even if i told you so is the right response . even if it was my fault

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in a way i miss it . but not really . cause taking little kids to church might be the worst . last week i sat behind a family with littles and i went through all the thoughts . at first i was nostalgic . then thankful . then i prayed good and hard for them . because God bless the madness . this particular family had a little boy . maybe 3 or 4 years old . with chubby cheeks . and a lively spirit . with too much curiosity crammed into that little frame to sit in one spot . and i watched him going back and forth the whole meeting . down the row . out into the aisle . behind the chairs . this way and that . observing and looking and taking it all in . and as i watched i noticed something . he always kept one hand on his dad . or at least reached back in his direction if his little steps took him too far . as if the dad were first base . and he didn’t wanted to get tagged out . and i thought to myself . that’s how i want to do life . curious . lively . this way and that . but always with one hand on the Father . checking in . connected . and safe . or at least reaching back if my steps take me too far

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like any good God would…

i finally popped the question . it was while we were boarding the plane home . “will you be my neighbor in heaven?” . she lives too far for this life . plus i chose the longer of the two . her fire red hair would make you think she was spunky . and she most definitely is . but behind the flare is one of the most tender souls i’ve ever known . and as we walked through the jungle . and rode on the bus . and sat at dinner . she told me story after story . i couldn’t get enough . some of them were funny . like laugh out loud without taking it to be nice kind . but some of them were hard . stories of loss . of fear . of terrible tragedy . i could hear her heart groan as she told each one . and under the canopy of a ceiba tree i expressed out loud my sympathy . “i’m so sorry” . and she looked back with tear filled eyes . it was hard… . but you know what . it is the price i paid to come to know God . it stunned me . and i haven’t stopped thinking about it since . the holiness that comes in heartbreak . the close connection between sacrifice and sacred . the stretching of loss that increases the capacity to love . i think God put all of the important things in the heart on purpose . love, desire, passion, curiosity, hope . but also hurt, aching, longing . so when the heart strings are pulled . like life so often does . it brings music to all of it . awakening each part . all tuned to a new song . maybe that is why the Savior kept a token of His sacrifice in His side . the one right by His heart . it is the token of intimacy . the price He paid to know us . as the hymn says . “that in His offering i have part and hold a place within His heart” . that’s what she taught me . can’t wait for more of those lessons . we will be neighbors in heaven after all

does anyone else remember this? . there used to be these ads that promised so much money . you would send a dollar to everyone on some list . and then somehow, magically, all of these dollars would be sent to you . i’m not sure why i believed it . i should’ve just listened to my mom . it’s too good to be true, she said . and she was right . but i did it anyways . and i still check my mailbox thirty years later . but i guess some things just are . too good to be true . money doesn’t come magically . and most pills don’t do what they say . and ads are designed that way . and free usually never means free . which is what makes sunday school all the more remarkable . cause who could imagine such a story . a king . who left his golden throne . and came down to this place . to live among liars and cheaters and stealers . and go hungry . and homeless . and be mocked, tortured, and killed . and save those who didn’t care . or didn’t know . and didn’t deserve it . all because of love . who could imagine a king so good? . how could there be a friend so true? . and a heart so kind . and a mercy so unfailing . for someone like me . sometimes i just can’t believe it . and i said that to someone i trust once . that it is just too good to be true . and he said back . then you’re on the right track . it’s got to amaze you . or it isn’t worth believing