The man, the myth, the legend: Joey Butler

     This past Sunday, our pastor Joey Butler passed away from a two-year battle of cancer. We were told the news at church that Sunday on God's perfect timing. I was surrounded by my Gateway family and was able to process the news the way God intended.
     Joey was a lot of things to a lot of different people. He was a devout husband, a proud father, Joey was a friend, a mentor, to some he was a coach, but to most of us--to all of us Joey was a shepherd. He was a man that used God's spiritual giftings on his life to lead other's to Him and make disciples. When I look at the all the titles Joey proudly upheld, I think of his first and most important one: Joey was a follower of Christ, and an obedient follower at that. He went where God took him, sat where God told him to and allowed God to speak through him to reach so many souls whose callings were shaped because of the words God spoke through him.
     When I found out about Joey's cancer I remember sitting in church that Sunday in December and I prayed for healing. I prayed that God would save lives, I prayed that He would perform miracles. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that God did just that. In these past two years, I've witnessed miracles, I saw those lives saved and I saw more healing than I could have ever asked or imagined; far more better than physical healing. God used something so ugly to bring glory to Him and Joey was His obedient tool.
     I look at my community, my church family, even here at school in Springfield and I can see Joey's ripple effect wave over. What most excites me about Joey's life is that he was a tool used by God until the very end. He was worthy of His calling and so am I; so are you. I pray daily that the example Joey gave us isn't left without void, that we don't strive to just be more like Joey, but we all strive to look more like Christ.
     Tonight, at Joey's celebration of life, God will continue to use Joey to draw us close to Him. My prayer is that we look towards God and submit to His plan for our life as an obedient follower, just as those who have gone before us.

"All of my life, in every season
You are still God, I have a reason to sing
I have a reason to worship" -Hillsong
    

Survival of the Youngest

     Last night, I had the pleasure to witness child after child dressed up in costumes that their mother slaved over for months. Either by sewing some adorable astronaut outfit by hand or by using the 21st century mother approach of working, which will buy her child an outfit for a ridiculous amount of money that he or she will only wear once. I saw monsters from movies and race car drivers, whose names no one knows. Every little kid proudly announced whom they were aspiring to be and every mother's face glowed as she knew she played a part in her child's excitement.
     Personally, I don't really like kids and I've never understood holidays, but this year, one of my roommates wanted to decorate our apartment. Although I was reluctant at first, I saw how happy it made her, so it made me happy. I cut coffee filters and Gatorade bottles alongside her to make ghosts and glued colored cotton balls to toilet paper until we had the perfect mummy-spider ratio.
     I'm someone who is known for their cynicism. I just don't really understand other's excitement over lame stuff. Maybe it's pride, maybe it's maturity, but it's definitely a buzz kill and a sin that keeps me from encouraging.
     Last nights costumes made me think of one thing and one thing only. What are the odds that the little girl in the doctors coat is actually going to grow up and become a doctor? Or the little boy who is dressed as Ironman? What will become of him?
     When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up and be a high school football coach. I also wanted to be a lion, and with my hair, those aspirations were probably more reachable than the coach. But the point is, I never had anyone tell me I couldn't. At least not for the first 12 or so years of my life. No one ever told me to give up on my dreams. I had no cynical influences in my life telling me to give up on my dreams, even though most people thought, or knew, they were unattainable.
     How many kids grow up to be what they always wanted? When does reality set in and give is this faulty idea that we're not worth what we want? When do our goals just become dreams? I remember the first time I heard an airplane and I didn't look up to the sky searching for it. My first thought was, "man, I guess I'm not a kid anymore." How awful! It was the most mundane moment of my life. For a moment I felt like there was no magic left in the world. I was just a girl who heard airplanes, but wasn't fascinated by them. I had no one there to hold my hand and point them out to me. Airplanes were just airplanes and I would never be a lion.
     Last night was a reminder of childlike faith. A reminder to guard and encourage the hearts and minds of those around me. To spur on each and every believer beside me and be fascinated by everything. To find the blessing in everything. It's easy to lose faith in a world that's fighting to keep breathing. But the world is just like the rest of us, fighting to survive. Even cancer just wants to live. But what makes my life different?
     I'm living for a purpose. I have Someone fighting for me. Someone grabbing my hand when I drift away and holding my head above water when I can't swim on my own. I have someone who keeps my head up looking for airplanes.


Exodus 14:14
     For The Lord your God will fight for you if you will just be still.