The Lesson of the Butterfly- (Reflections from Pastor Ray)

I learned one of my little vanities a while back.  To do something very different from what I usually do, I took a gun safety course.  At its conclusion, we had to prove our basic competence with a pistol by putting 20 shots into a target—just somewhere in the paper and not even in the black.  I started shooting into the bull’s eye, chewing out a large ragged hole in the black.  The instructor came up behind me, stood a moment, and then said, “You might want to spread your shots out. We’re supposed to count the bullet holes.”  Although I knew it was just a joking comment, I still felt a flash of pride.  I could still shoot well.  I realized that this had been a point of vanity since I was a teenager.  Little chance to shoot and aging eyes had made me concerned about how well I could do anymore.  It was nice to learn that I can still hit basically where I’m aiming.

Looking back, though, one of my best shots ever has lingered in my memory as a warning.  I was out shooting my Civil War musket and pistol in an old limestone quarry that now contained hills of white dust, a byproduct of making cement.  As I headed back to my car, I saw a monarch butterfly on one of the dust hills several yards off, just sitting there, waving its wings.  I found it a tempting target.  I quickly drew my pistol and fired from the hip, just like they did on the TV westerns.  I shot, being pretty sure that I wouldn’t hit it, but only startle it into flight.  When the black powder smoke cleared, there was only a dark hole where the butterfly had been.  A beautiful butterfly transformed immediately into a dark hole by my un-aimed, unthinking shot.  I was surprised that I had shot so dead on.  I was also a bit distraught because I didn’t really intend to kill it.  But that hole in the white dust just stared back at me.  No matter what I intended, no matter how much I was sure I really wouldn’t hurt the butterfly, my shot buried it dead in the dust.

There are times when this memory comes to mind:  monarch slowly fanning its wings, flash of fire, noise, and smoke, and then just a hole.  It usually comes to me when I see someone hurt by word or action:  a smart comment that was intended as a joke has wounded someone deeply; a practical joke has gotten out of hand and has really harmed someone; rebuking words that seem to have hurt another more that was meant.  “I was only joking;” “I didn’t meant to hurt your feelings;” “I didn’t realize this would be dangerous,” are but holes in the dirt after we’ve already blown the butterfly away.

One of the most important rules of shooting is:  Never point your weapon at something you don’t really want to shoot.  This is a good rule for our mouths and acts also. In our interactions with others, we need to be careful what we say and do.  The Bible reminds us that:  “A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh words stirs up anger.  The tongue of the wise dispenses knowledge, but the mouths of fools pour out folly.  The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good.  A gentle tongue is a tree of life, but perverseness in it breaks the spirit (Proverbs 15:1-4).”  Don’t let one of your best “shots” be something you later regret.

–Ray

(Ray Newell is pastor at City Road Chapel, UMC in Madison (Nashville), TN. We welcome your comments. You may visit the church’s Website at http://www.cityroadchapel.org.)