Sheep in the Midst of Wolves: I'm with Jesus and My Bipolar Struggles Are Over

By Matthew Butler

My name is Matthew Butler.

 

I had bipolar.

 

I don't anymore.

 

They murdered me.

 

Jesus restored me to life.

 

There is nothing ordinary about mental illness. But there is something extraordinary about how Matthew Butler lived with it.

 

Like all of us Matthew was a sinner. But unlike most of us, Matthew had bipolar. 

 

In this posthumous memoir, written from the perspective of his mother and inspired by his life and writings, we learn an important truth. No matter your circumstances, even if you lose your mind, you always have hope for healing. This hope in Matthew was cultivated by his unswerving faith in Jesus as his Lord and Savior. Matthew's faith, sometimes obscured in clarity by his illness, was kept alive by his positive attitude and hope.

 

He took a wild trip to Vegas that landed him in a psych ward. Later he later married and was blessed with two beautiful children he adored. Ultimately the Lord tamed his illness through diagnosis and treatment.

 

Still, he struggled from time to time.

 

Matthew shared the hope of Jesus with two men one night at the recording studio he owned. Those two men violently stole Matthew's, and a friend's life that night.

 

But they couldn't steal the most precious gift that Matthew had received.

 

Eternal life.

 

Matthew has now been cured of bipolar as he lives in heaven with his healer.

 

If you come to know Matthew's Savior – you can be healed, because he's your Savior too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: LM Vintage Publishers
• Release date: Feb 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201967529

Book preview

Foreward

MATTHEW’S PASTOR:

I will never forget visiting with Matthew Butler on the afternoon of June 19, 2008.  Little did I know that within hours of our meeting Matthew would be murdered in a senseless act of violence.  I have long ago quit trying to answer the why question, but I trust in the God who is never taken by surprise by anything that happens. But here is what I do know about Matthew from our meeting:  (1) Like all of us, Matthew had struggles in his life.  (2) Matthew dearly loved his wife, Jamie, and his children, Matthew and McKayla, and his parents, Theresa and Michael.  (3) Matthew placed his faith in the Lord Jesus Christ to be his Savior.  (4) Matthew is in heaven today because of his faith in Christ.

You will be encouraged by Matthew’s story of faith in the book Sheep in the Midst of Wolves.  The book is an encouraging reminder that although our struggles in this life are very real, they are also very temporary.  May God bless the life and legacy of this great servant of Christ.  Matthew, we look forward to seeing you again one day in that place God has prepared for His children called heaven.

Dr. Robert Jeffress

Senior Pastor

First Baptist Church, Dallas

Prologue

THE CRIME:

Matthew Butler was murdered at twenty-eight years of age. He was a loving father, son, and husband. Matthew had just shared his Christian faith with his murderers. Then they returned and gunned down Matthew and his business associate and friend, Steve Swan.

The night they were viciously slain was a warm, windy Texas summer night. Matthew and Steve had taken a break from mastering a live recording and were hanging out in front of Matthew’s recording studio in downtown Garland, Texas. Deserted, abandoned by its daytime population. Between midnight and 1 a.m., they were approached and then savagely shot several times until dead.

Matthew’s and Steve’s lives were stolen for the two dollars in Steve’s wallet and his old Crown Victoria. They came looking for money and property. After they had robbed Matthew and Steve, they murdered them to silence the witnesses of their crime.

Crime Scene:   

June 19, 2008, at 1:21 a.m.: a passing cyclist, Nathan Johnson, noticed two men lying on the concrete in front of Zion Gate Records at 810 W. State Street. Upon observing them, he noticed a massive amount of blood. He quickly rode to the fire station at 1019 Austin Street to notify paramedics. The Garland Fire Department responded and found two white males in their twenties, deceased. They called the Garland Police, as they had been shot multiple times and foul play was obvious. Detectives were dispatched; one was named Detective Sweet. The detectives found two men on the pavement, dead, with bullet wounds all over their bodies. Matthew Butler had been shot in the back among many other places on his body. Steve Swan, lying closer to the street, had been shot only in the head.

FAR LATER THAT DAY

Detective Sweet was in his squad car, about to head back to the station. He’d just finished questioning family members of one suspect. He squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples. There was a light patter of rain hitting his patrol car’s windshield, which guided his eyes back to the windshield wipers.

He turned his head and looked at the water creating branching streams outside his door’s window as he gazed up to the gray sky.

Then he bowed his head.

Lord Jesus, please help solve this crime quickly. Help me find who murdered these two young men. God help me do justice for you and their families.

Detective Sweet’s phone chirped. He put the phone to his ear.

Amen.

What? came the voice from the speaker.

Detective Sweet lowered his voice and cleared his throat. Detective Sweet here.

Detective Sweet, this is Officer Jeff Johnson with Texarkana PD. I think I have the murder suspects you are looking for in the back of my squad car. I pulled them over for a traffic stop to give them a citation.

For the Butler/Swan murder case?

Yessir.

Detective Sweet made shorter breaths in and out. But I—I just got the sworn affidavits that I need to get a warrant. I don’t have anything to hold them on.

Detective, don’t worry. They all have traffic warrants outstanding, Officer Johnson said.

Thank you, Officer Johnson. Detective Sweet let out a long breath. I’ve got to go. Now. I’ll call y’all back shortly.

Okay, Detective.

End call.

Detective Sweet got out of his vehicle. It was raining more heavily now. He smiled as the drops hit his cheeks and he looked to the sky.

Thank you, Lord, for answering my prayers so quickly.

DETECTIVE SWEET OBTAINED the necessary warrants to make the trek out to Texarkana.

He later told Theresa Butler, Matthew’s mother, that he’d felt God’s hand on him as he worked this murder case. It was a miracle; only several hours before, he’d been staring at two lifeless bodies.

Chapter 1

JUNE 15, 2008

I was walking to my car, looking at the Honda Element wrapped with my studio’s name, and I suddenly missed my convertible Mustang and all the cool cars I’d driven. Then I shrugged inside. This was a better family car, and that mattered more to me now. I had to turn to the glass door to lock up the studio. I paused, turning the lock, feeling the tumblers force the bolt into place. I pulled out my key and, in a seamless motion, deposited my key chain into my pocket.

I was about to get into the car; there was no reason not to hold on to the keys. But I became too distracted. My eyes widened into a smile as I looked at the letters stuck onto the glass door. I was in a trance. I couldn’t believe that I had achieved this, that God had blessed me this way.

This had been my dream, and now it was new again to me: the remodeling was finally complete. In stickered block letters, Zion Gate Records read across the glass door. The block letters proved it—they were the visual manifestation of my dream turned into reality. I reached out and traced the rough edges of the Z stuck to the glass.

It was black as I glanced up—no moon. I relied on the twinkling prisms above my head to remind me the Lord had fulfilled his promise to me in so many ways, and this studio was just another example of a promise kept. Looking at those stars, I knew there was a promise I needed to keep also, so I closed my eyes and prayed that He would keep my mind on His mission—that He would show me how to use the studio to save lives for Jesus, for His Kingdom.

Hey, Matt.

I turned around and saw Rudy’s silhouette darkening the direct path to my car. He was perched on the curb, facing away from me. The lot was empty, and the streetlight he sat under was broken—directly in front of my studio—so his voice drew me to his outline. I imagined my mom in my mind’s eye. 

Her short brown hair. She warned me, Matthew, you stay up there alone and late outside your studio, and someone will attack you. They’ll knock you in the head and take everything you own.

I chuckled. Rudy, I’m glad you waited on me. I’ve got your dinner.

Rudy had only started coming to my office a few days ago, but it seemed like he might be a permanent fixture, as he cycled on and off the curb in front of my Honda. I had bought his McDonald’s burger and fries every night for the past three nights. No ice for the Coke.

I walked with a bag in hand to the dark curb and sat down. I could see him better now, walking under the broken streetlight. The glare of the other lights didn’t