Tag: christianity

Jesus loves me, this I know...

A Few Minutes a Day—and a Big But to Carry With You

darin

I’ve been spending a good bit of my writing time lately working on Big Buts.

Yes. Big Buts.

If you’re new around here, that probably deserves an explanation.

Big Buts of the Bible began years ago as a book project built around a simple observation: some of the most important turns in Scripture happen around one very small word—but.

Things are going badly… but God. Someone has failed… but grace. The situation looks hopeless… but Jesus.

One little word can turn a sentence around. Sometimes, it turns an entire story around.

These days, I’m revisiting that original book, rewriting and expanding it as Big Buts of the Bible: Where Broken Stories Meet God’s Grace. But I’m also building something around the book at BigButsOfTheBible.com—a daily rhythm of short readings designed to help us spend a few minutes each day looking for God.

And I mean a few minutes.

A Few Minutes That Can Follow You All Day

I believe there is something important about beginning—or ending—our day by intentionally turning our thoughts toward spiritual things.

It doesn’t always have to be an hour-long Bible study. It doesn’t require a seminary degree, three commentaries spread across the kitchen table, or enough coffee to get through Leviticus before breakfast.

Sometimes five or seven minutes is enough to redirect the mind.

Read a passage. Notice something you hadn’t noticed before. Ask a question. Consider where grace might be hiding in the story. Think about what it means for the story you happen to be living today. Then carry it with you.

That’s really what I’ve been trying to create at Big Buts: not simply a collection of posts, but a daily rhythm.

Each day approaches Scripture from a slightly different angle:

Sunday — Wonder
Lift your eyes.
See God again.

Monday — Observation
Learn to notice.
Ask better questions.
Become an attentive reader.

Tuesday — Hope Hidden in Plain Sight
Dig beneath the surface.
Discover grace you almost missed.

Wednesday — The Pivot
See where everything changes.
Recognize God’s turning points.

Thursday — Wisdom
Learn how to live.

Friday — Grace
Watch broken stories meet God’s grace.

Saturday — Journey
Walk chapter by chapter through the Gospel of Matthew with excerpts from the forthcoming book.

Put them together and something interesting happens. That’s not merely a content calendar.

It’s a discipleship rhythm.

Good to Carry. And Good to Go.

There’s another reason I’ve deliberately kept most of these pieces short.

They travel well.

Maybe something you read gives you a thought to carry into your workday. Maybe a Proverbial But makes you reconsider a decision you’re facing. Maybe Dr. Buttersworth gives you a chuckle while teaching you to notice something in Scripture you’ve skipped over a hundred times.

Or maybe you read something and immediately think of someone else.

She needs this today.

This sounds exactly like what he’s going through.

We were just talking about this.

That’s when these little pieces become especially useful. Point. Click. Like. Share. Follow.

Send one to a friend. Text it to your son or daughter. Share it with someone who could use a little hope. Forward it to somebody who hasn’t opened a Bible in years but might be willing to spend five minutes considering one unexpected sentence from it.

Sometimes people don’t need a sermon. Sometimes they just need a nudge.

And Then There’s the Name…

Following Big Buts has another unexpected evangelistic benefit. It’s a terrific conversation starter.

“What’s this I see? You follow a site called BIG BUTS?”

“I do. Let me tell you about it. Better yet, let me show you a few beautiful Big Buts.”

And suddenly you’re having a conversation about grace.

That’s part of the fun behind the name. It makes people look twice. It raises an eyebrow. It invites a question. And beneath the wordplay is something I believe deeply: some of the most beautiful moments in Scripture happen when everything before the “but” says the story is over—and everything after it says God isn’t finished.

Those are the Big Buts I’m looking for. And they’re everywhere.

Come Spend a Few Minutes With Me

So if you visit me here because you’re interested in my writing, Storysmithing, books, occasional curmudgeonly observations, or whatever else happens to wander out of my writing laboratory, I’d love for you to wander over to Big Buts as well.

Give it five minutes.

You don’t have to read everything. You don’t have to start at the beginning. Just drop in on a Sunday and wonder. Come Monday and meet Dr. Buttersworth. Find a Pivot on Wednesday. Pick up some wisdom on Thursday. Sit with a broken story on Friday.

Find one thought worth carrying with you. And if it helps you, share it with somebody else.

That’s what I’m hoping Big Buts becomes—not simply another website asking for another few minutes of our already overcrowded attention, but a place that helps us redirect that attention toward God.

A few minutes at a time. One little word at a time. One beautiful Big But at a time.

I'm so happy to be here!

Somebody’s Knocking

darin

Several years ago, I participated in a writing class in the Literary Kitchen. Among our assignments each week was a ‘Quick Write’ practice, which is to be completed in ten minutes or less, in response to a prompt. One prompt was, ‘Somebody is knocking on your motel room door in the middle of the night.’  Here was my QW response: 

I don’t have to make this one up—it’s happened to me.

Knocking.

Middle of the night, I tell you. It was the darkest night of my life. I was scared. When you’re jarred awake and you’re in an unfamiliar place, and the things that you normally count on as ‘sure’ aren’t there—what’s for real?

Four weeks earlier—to the day—my brother Dave had taken me on that fateful fishing trip. Middle of Lake Jessop in Sanford, Florida; the most alligator populated body of water in North America. Gators were everywhere I looked—eyes, noses and backs sticking out of the water surrounding our little boat. Dave pulled a bible out of his tackle box and said, “Sit down and listen to me for a minute. I want to talk to you about Jesus. If you don’t want to listen, you can swim for shore.”

For four weeks I’d been thinking about what Dave said, considering giving this Jesus a chance to prove himself real to me. Now this?

Knocking.

Darkest night of my life started as the darkest day—at 11 that morning I learned that my father died. He went to work like every other day, but this time a disgruntled employee and a case of what they call workplace violence changed everything. Sixteen. My dad’s not coming home. He’s never coming home. Most days he’d pull in the driveway after work and pick up a mitt, we’d throw a ball for a half-hour before supper, talk about the day. Never again. I lay in my bed, tears streaming down my cheeks. Life never hurt so bad.

Knocking.

‘So Jesus, what the heck? I’m giving you a shot to see if you’re real and this is what you’ve got to offer?’

I picked up the bible my brother gave me and found my way to a list of verses he’d penciled in the back. I looked one up.

Knocking.

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him, and eat with him, and he with me.” 

“Hey Jesus, you’re welcome to come in, but I need to warn you, I’m not really a religious guy.”

“That’s good,” he said. “I don’t hang out with religious people. Haven’t you heard? My friends are drunkards, gamblers and whores … the broken, the sad, the weak and weary … the lost.”