Jon Acuff's Blog, page 105

Doing the Holy Shuffle

(It’s guest post Friday!  Here’s one from Claire Stevens… If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Doing the Holy Shuffle

No, I’m not referring to Saturday Night Fever moves that have been subtly modified to be church-disco-appropriate.

As a Christian who doesn’t drive and who takes a lot of buses, I have plenty of opportunities for time with God, listening to worship on my iPod. I’m worshipping, just with my mostly-inside-my-head worship voice. Sometimes muted sounds escape from the back of my throat. It’s like Crash Test Dummies’ Mmm mmm mmm mmm vs. Michael W. (Some people call him “Smitty.” Not me.)

Sometimes though I don’t know which kind of Christian music I feel like listening to.  Will it be Hillsong United – the espresso-shot of worship I need first thing in the morning, even though I’m much too old and un-bouncy to be in the target demographic? Should it be something soothing and peaceful? If I’m wearing a hoodie, should I go for one of the three songs with rap sections?

And then I remember: I don’t need to decide. The iPod has a shuffle function. It goes something like this:

Shuffle songs: Tim Hughes, Beautiful One.

My brain: “Oh, awesome. Yup, Jesus is beautiful. I love Him. Wow, it’s like God knew this was the right song. Hmm hmm hmm.”

I gaze out the bus window. The song is finishing.

Shuffle songs: Matt Redman, Let my Words be Few.

Brain: “That’s such a good reminder. Today I’ll have to remember to listen and pray more than I speak.”

So far, so general.

Then things get a little weird.

I’m daydreaming about that guy I like in my home group. Might he like me? Could he be the one?

Shuffle songs: Marc James, Surrender.

Brain: “Wow – that is so spot on! I need to surrender that crush to God as well as everything else in my life. I’m feeling corrected.”

It’s at about this point that I attribute the gift of prophecy to the iPod.

Don’t get me wrong. I completely believe that God uses music to speak to us. Probably even prefers an iPhone over a Droid. How else would you explain how long it took for droid to get Instagram, an app primarily used to document the sunsets God gives us? What’s astonishing is that the device knows exactly which song to play next.

It’s become a Holy Shuffle. (I felt like “Siri Spirit” was probably pushing it too far.)

Holy Shuffle: Matt Redman, Mission’s Flame.

Brain: “Wow! I’m going to be a missionary! God really is a DJ.”

Sometimes, God’s voice is a little harder to discern though. Especially when you have forgotten that the last time you synced your iPod, you loaded all your music rather than just selecting the worship.

Brain: “What is it that you have for me today, Lord?”

Holy Shuffle: Beyonce and Slim Thug, Check on it.

Brain: “Who am I to marry, Lord?”

Holy Shuffle: You Can’t Always Get What You Want, Glee Cast version.

Does that mean I’m headed toward a “Silver medal spouse?” Awesome.

What do you think?  Are there tracks on your iPod or MP3 player that could provide the answers to the questions in your life?

Question:  Have you ever done the Holy Shuffle?

Breaking up with your small group.

Many Christians reach a point in their small group relationship where they realize, “This isn’t working anymore. I need to see other small groups.”

It’s a tricky situation, fraught with unique challenges. Do you take the passive-aggressive route: Just stop showing up? Make excuses until eventually they stop calling?

Can you skip group without looking like you’re skipping God, because you still love him, right? Do you organize a mutiny and try to take other couples with you? “I can’t keep studying the book of Job. I’m making a break for it; we’re starting a new group and heading to the border of the New Testament. I think we’ve got room for two other people in our car. Three, if someone will sit in the way back, but Hank and Stacey aren’t going to be able to make it. Don’t look back. Just run. Run!”

Do you work hard to make them want to dump you? When you host it at your house, do you serve the most disgusting dessert possible, kidney strawberry pie or blackberry beet pudding?

Do you leave out of awkwardness? “I want to talk about some bowel issues I’m having. Anyone else know what I’m talking about? Bowel issues? Here are some detailed observations I had in the bathroom this morning. I took pictures.”

Do you bring your own poetry and tell people, “God laid this fourteen-page poem about the death of my cat on my heart; I’d really like to read it to you tonight. It’s written in Klingon, so it might be a little hard to understand the first time around.”

Do you start seeing other groups on the side? And do you keep your broken group going because you like talking about football with one of the guys, and your wife likes the recipes one of the girls gives her? You can find substance elsewhere. Just start small grouping all over town until you find one you like, and once you do, you can dump the old one.

If all else fails, I guess you could just be honest. But that’s only if you don’t know a good recipe for pork pineapple white chocolate chip cookies. People hate those things. Serve a warm plate of those to your small group, and it will be over by bite two.

Have you ever had to break up with your small group?

 

(It’s throwback Thursday! This essay, doesn’t that word make me sound “fancy”, originally appeared in the Stuff Christians Like book. You can buy a copy of the whole book right here.)

Looking through the telescope.

I’m doing more public speaking right now than I have ever done.

And usually, before I step on stage to share an idea with a crowd, I have a conversation with God in my head.

It goes something like this:

Me: God, are you sure you want me up there on that stage?

God: I do.

Me: Are you sure? I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. Do you know what I’ve done?

God: I do.

Me: It was pretty big.

God: Was it? Everything looks small in the shadow of the cross.

And then I walk on stage.

But at the heart of that conversation is a problem. A trick the devil loves to play on us. A trick so devious that I had to draw it out to show you what I mean.

The devil loves for us to step up to a telescope and look at our sin like this:

 

We stare at our sin up close through a telescope and it appears massive. It fills our vision, its size overwhelming, its magnitude breathtaking, its weight colossal. The detail is so intricate we could draw it from memory. The regret so clearly replayed in our mind we could recite it perfectly, decades after we’ve fallen.

And then, the devil flips the telescope around and asks us to look at the cross like this:

We look through the wrong end, and the cross seems so tiny. It’s too small for our sins. Our sins outweigh it. They loom larger than the death of Christ. There’s no way grace could be enough for what we’ve done. Surely there’s something else we need to do to be forgiven. To be held. To be loved.

And so we search. We run from a small cross into a big world and look for something that will fix us.

The truth is, the cross is massive. Its shadow covers failure like an ocean covers sandcastles.

I’m ready to stop looking through the telescope the wrong way.

Are you?

Sunday Morning Quarterbacks

A few weeks ago at church, I sat next to a couple who were doing a play-by-play analysis on the entire service. From the very first worship song to the very last announcement, they were talking about the service. Usually people who talk about what they would have done in a football game on Monday are called “Monday Morning Quarterbacks,” but this was a new level of fascinating I’d never experienced before.

It was kind of like watching the director’s commentary on a DVD, which is always a disappointing experience. I remember being excited to watch the director’s commentary on the movie “Say Anything.” I thought there would be some sort of magical exchange between the director and John Cusack when they discussed the scene where he held up the boombox over his head. Some sort of deep wisdom or off-the-cuff nugget about that pivotal moment.

Instead, it went something like this:

Director: Remember that scene.

John Cusack: Yeah, I do.

Director: What tape was actually in the boombox?

John Cusack: I think it was Fishbone.

Director: Really?

John Cusack: Yeah, maybe.

Director: Oh.

If you want to Instagram that dialog feel free. It’s riveting.

Would the director’s commentary of the church service prove to be more interesting? Would they top John Cusack with their analysis? Would there be any part they didn’t discuss loudly? So many questions and, as time has proven, so many thoughts went through my head:

1. Whoa, talking during a worship song. Bold move, or maybe they’re “talk singers,” afraid to actually try singing a song and, instead, just talk the words out. Nashville is an intimidating place to worship. Everyone you sit next to has a record deal.

2. Is it rude to listen? It’s impossible to ignore. They’re talking so loud that I kind of feel like they’re talking to me.

3. Is this performance art? Maybe this is part of an edgy new sermon series? Are they crowd plants? Maybe Pete is going to do a series on distractions, and these people are actors?

4. Do they think they’re invisible? Is this kind of like when my kids were young and played hide and seek simply by closing their eyes? They thought no one could see them if they couldn’t see you. Should I tell them they’re not invisible?

5. Is that the weirdest thing you could tell someone at church? “Hey, not sure if you knew, but you’re not invisible.”

6. What if this is biblical? Isn’t there a verse about not worshipping when a brother is mad at you? Don’t you have to run and fix that broken relationship before you worship? Maybe I’m watching a reconciliation? Brother against brother.

7. Like the Civil War. Or “Civil Wars.” How great is that band name? They added an “S” and boom! That consonant is gold. Plus, their 60 seconds on the Grammy’s was absolutely brilliant. I wonder if they come to Cross Point like all the other country musicians? Maybe this is them? Am I sitting next to the Civil Wars right now? Are we in Barton Hollow?

8. How is my pastor, Pete, handling this? He’s a pro. I just saw him look over here, though. He has to hear what’s happening. Is there a discreet way I can signal, “They’re not with me. I’m ‘tracking with you’”?

9. Do they know we’re at church? Probably. I mean there are 1,000 people in the room, and we’re sitting in pews. Both of those things seem like pretty clear indicators of what is going on right now.

10. Maybe they have bad depth perception. Maybe they can’t tell that we’re sitting on the front row. The pastor is 7 feet away, not 70. Is it an eyesight issue? They think they’re in the back row?

11. What if they’re first-time visitors and don’t know how church works? I am such a jerk.

12. Wait, why do we act like first-time visitors are from another planet? Have they ever been to a movie, a school performance, a play, a funeral, or a dance recital? Then they probably know the social norms that come with sitting in a crowd.

13. Can you shush someone at church and not look like a graceless monster fresh from the bowels of Hades? Is that possible? Probably not.

14. If I write about this, how fast will someone comment, “This is why people hate coming to church!” What’s that going to be: the third comment or the fourth comment?

Ultimately, I decided to just listen to the podcast of the sermon later. I was too ADD to not half-listen to their conversation and Pete’s sermon at the same time.

My ultimate concern for this situation, though, isn’t about talking in church or kindness to strangers or pew etiquette. My chief concern is simple:

I hope they don’t read Stuff Christians Like and see this.

Question:

What would you have done in this situation?

The Bible App Holiness Guide

I don’t need the table of contents in my Bible. In fact, I’m so holy I ripped it out and rolled it up into a homemade shofar horn to call my kids down to dinner. But that’s so paper of me, declaring my holiness by proving I know exactly where the book of Joel is based on my constant reading of the Bible. That’s 1997. Not relevant. Not postmodern or whatever the word we care most about is right now.

How do we update that idea? How, in 2012, can you really tell if someone is holy?

By looking at where they keep their Bible app on their smart phone.

Not all locations are created equal. App geography matters tremendously and, fortunately, I put together a pretty simple guide.

The Bible App Holiness Guide or (BAHG)



Only App on your smart phone

Holiest, or “Enoch” Level

I guess they’ll just bring a fiery chariot right to your door when you decide you’ve spent enough time on this planet. You have a smart phone, but the only app you have on it is the Bible. The “front page” of your iPhone is just the Bible app. There are no other choices. You even found a way to delete Google Maps. When you get lost, you don’t open up GPS. You open up Exodus and read about the Israelites roaming the desert.

First page

Super Holy, or “Pastor” Level

Top shelf! Pretty good. No searching deep into your phone for your copy of Youversion. It’s right there on the front page or homepage, if you will. Granted, it’s slumming with YouTube and a bunch of other nonsense apps, but you’re still doing pretty good.

Second page

Kind of Holy, or “Pre-Rooster Peter” Level

I don’t know about Android, but the first page of the iPhone has 16 available slots. You’re telling me the Bible didn’t make the top 16? Yikes. The Bible is in your list of top 17 apps? Pretty sure Pre-Rooster Peter would have said the same thing.

In a folder

Smidge Holy, or “Martha” Level

Whoa, interesting choice. Keeping the Bible in a folder? That’s the 2012 equivalent of hiding your light under a bushel. I’m pretty sure that verse meant to say, “You are a light on a hill, unless you feel like putting your Bible app four pages deep in some sort of folder named ‘Education.’” I guess you got distracted using Evernote or some other productivity app, like Martha would have loved.

Don’t have a Bible App

I’ll pray for you, or “Gonna be a hot one my friend” level

Was it the price of Youversion that kept you away? Free? That too expensive? Good grief. I’ll pray for you. Probably. Unless you don’t have a smart phone. Some of my friends don’t, and I can appreciate that, especially when they don’t say, “I don’t even have a smart phone,” which is becoming the new “I don’t even own a TV.”

Based on that chart, I’m super holy. My Youversion app is right there on the first page of my iPhone.

How about you?

If you have a smart phone and a Bible app, how’d you score?

4 reasons it’s better to grow up at a small church.

(It’s guest post Friday!  Here’s one by Nate Whitson. You can check out his blog here and follow him on Twitter @natewhitson1.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Growing Up At Small Church

When I was a kid I went to a small, country church. Everyone should have a chance to grow up in a church like the one I did. Why? Because small church has so many things to offer that big church just can’t deliver. If that compelling reason wasn’t enough, then here are 5 more killer reasons you should leave your church with all the ministry coolness and opportunities you have there and find the smallest, most countriest church you can find. (that’s how we say “really country” in small churches) If not for you, do it for your kids so that they can have something to blog about when they get older. Jobs are going to be tough to come by in 2030 I hear.

4 killer reasons it’s better to grow up at a small church (do you say “killer” at big churches?):

1.  Your parents always had someone lined up for you to marry.

You might as well be home-schooled if you go to a small, country church because the odds of you having the freedom to get to know a wide range of girls was slim to nothing. But no matter how many girls or people attended small church, it was always important to pay attention to who your parents hung out with because the chances of you being encouraged to marry one of their daughters was huge. When I say “encouraged,” I actually mean “pre-arranged” or “forced.” Was she cute? Doesn’t matter! Does she have all of her teeth? Stop being so picky! Dude, you’re getting married!

2. The “worship” music involved a voice tuner.

There was always a guy at the church I grew up at that would lead the singing. Before every song he would pull his little, silver tuner out of his pocket – blow into it to hear what the first note of the next song was – and then proceed to be terrible. He may have gotten the first note right, but the rest were awful. I wonder if there’s a way to blow into that thing before every note of the entire song? “How Great Thou Art” could’ve definitely been a little bit greater. Granted, it would have taken 19 minutes to finish the song, but it would have been worth it.

3. Every adult can discipline you.

Being young at small church can be tough. You are squirmy, immature, and it can be difficult to stay interested in a weekly exegesis through the book of Numbers. What was especially tough, though, was the agreement parents made behind your back to allow any adult who went to your church to have the right to discipline you. At a small church you have 87 parents. I remember being at potluck #1,043 and I was playing tag with a friend of mine. We were running out in the parking lot (this is part of the strategy of playing tag for those of you who don’t know because you went to a big church and didn’t have to entertain yourself by running in parking lots because you had an awesome playground) and some crazy, random lady opened the door and yelled at me for running. In the parking lot! Not the sanctuary. Not the hallways. Not past the lady who was obviously upset that my parents hadn’t hand-selected her daughter to be my wife. Ahh…those were the good old days! A part of me longs for those days when strangers would guide my fragile soul down the straight and narrow. (sigh)

4. Potlucks.

If you go to a big church, I just feel sorry for you. How in the world are you going to have an all-church potluck every week with 2,000 people? What does your “fellowship” time look like at big church–Starbucks in the book store? A cafeteria with a full menu of restaurant quality food? Ha! I laugh at your “fellowship!” Ok, that’s a lie. That’s what we have to say when we go to small church because we so badly want to have cool coffee like you. Dang it.

Come to think of it.  Stay where you are. Your kids don’t want to go to small church after all. Especially if that one lady still goes there and is going to yell at you. For running. Outside! Geeesh!

Question:

Do you attend a small church or a megachurch?

 

For more great writing from Nate, check out his blog4men.

Winners! Free Book for Introverts Giveaway

Congratulations to the following people who commented on the “Introverts In Church” book giveaway post:

Kel

Heidi

Beth Zimmerman

Annwithane22

Msstout84

Please send an email directly to the Adam McHugh at adamsmchughatgmaildotcom and he’ll send your copy out to you.

Thanks to everyone who commented.

The Judgment Olympics.

If I was London, I would have watched the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics and thought, “Oh great. We just have to follow an intricately choreographed performance by more people than live in our entire country? Fantastic. No pressure.”

But I’m not London, not even Jeremy, I’m Jon. So instead of worrying about the opening ceremony to the Summer Olympics, I get to focus on something else:

The second annual Stuff Christians Like Judgment Olympics.

Not only is it topical in this Olympic year, but I think it will give you something great to say back to someone who says something unfairly judgmental to you. Imagine yelling “Gold Medal!” when someone in your small group says something unkind to you. Dare to dream Jon, dare to dream.

Here are the events:

1. The “I used to”
= Gold Medal

You’ve just confessed something that is going on in your life, and the person across from you pauses and then says, “I used to do that a lot too before I really connected with God.” Ohhh, “I used” can be a powerful, powerful phrase. What this does is set up that the person you’re talking with has moved beyond what you are currently struggling with. When they were a sweaty Philistine, like you, they used to do what you are doing. But now that life is angelic, they just don’t do that anymore.

2. The “I’m with God.”
= Silver Medal

The best thing to do when you really want to judge someone is draw up sides. Make sure you take the side of God first, which automatically puts the other person on the side of Satan. Sound extreme and like something that doesn’t happen? It does. Here’s what it looks like: “I understand what you are saying. I guess I’m just going to go with God on this one.” Or, “I’m not telling you my opinion. I’m just telling you what the Bible and God say.” The implication is that you’re not just disagreeing with the other person, you’re disagreeing with the Alpha and Omega. Which does not feel awesome.

3. The “half and half”
= Silver Medal

This is probably my favorite one. In this form, you give a fake compliment, followed up by what you really feel. For example, if you don’t like a certain minister you might say, “He’s got a great ministry, unless you feel that learning about the Bible is important.” or “That’s a great song, if you don’t mind devil music.” This is the equivalent of waving your hand around to make someone look at it while your foot kicks them in the groin.

4. The “Judgment Squared” = Bronze medal

Few things are as ironic as when someone judges you for being judgmental. That’s like swimming in the ocean next to me and telling me that I’m wet. Hey, “wait a second, you’re wet too,” I want to say. If you ever say the phrase, “I don’t mean to judge, but …” then you might have just won yourself a medal.

5. The “for me.” = Gold Medal

This is similar to number 2, but does not have to involve throwing the God card directly. Let’s say I write a post about some kind of worship music that I think is overplayed in church. Someone reads that, and then says, “I guess, for me, worship is about communing with God and not my own narcissistic sense of enjoyment.” That sounds a little extreme, but I once got in an argument with someone that read my completely silly post about holding hands and then accused me of probably not liking to touch the homeless. We ended up working it out, but the initial implication was, “You don’t like interlinking fingers with strangers at church? For me, touch is about loving others, like Jesus. Why do you hate the homeless?”

6. Obscure Verse
 = Silver Medal

Your friends don’t live their lives by the second chapter of the book of Joel. They should, but chances are, they don’t. But sometimes, when they want to prove a point, they just Google some crazily obscure verse and then casually quote it like they’ve always loved that passage about the locusts.

I think some of the things above, when done in love, can be helpful and honest. But when they’re not, I think you and I deserve a medal. At least I know I do, because I’ve unfortunately got a closet full of medals.

Question:

What form of judging would you add to the judgment Olympics?

 

(This is a Throwback Thursday post from a few years ago.)

Going on a mission for God.

I often feel that I am in the midst of a great adventure from God. We talk about “calling” in our culture a lot, and going on “missions” for God.

Sometimes, though, I put tremendous pressure on myself to make sure I don’t mess up that mission. Deep down, I secretly feel that if I fail, God’s design for my life, my community, Nashville, the world, etc. will not come together.

But here is something I recently wrote on a note, for me, that might also be a note for you:

The success of God’s plans are not dependent on my ability to execute them.

He will not be handcuffed by my failures or unleashed by my accomplishments. He is bigger than that. 

The next time the enemy tries to tell you otherwise, remind yourself that’s a lie. God invites us into his story out of love, not employment. The pressure of perfection is off. We’ve got a perfect God.

New campaign from our friends at Hello Somebody!

I’ve been very clear over the years about my desire to have my own signature cologne.

Long before Diddy released his, I had plans to become a perfume professional or titan of scent, if you will. On May 22, 2008 I wrote on this blog, “If I get rich and famous, please know that I will create a cologne and perfume that smell like old hymnals. (The perfume will be called “for hymnal.”)”

Alas, my cologne dreams have not come to fruition. But, I’m excited to announce that one of my friends beat me to the punch. And their perfume can actually change the world, as opposed to mine, which would have only earned me some “musk money.”

Hello Somebody, who we’ve raised money with before, just launched a new campaign against sex trafficking called Hello:Freedom. They partnered with Rescue Her, a Dallas-Fort Worth based organization, to bring preventative care to girls living in high risk areas and restorative care to victims of sex trafficking. The campaign will specifically focus on girls in Cambodia. (Learn more here.)

As a dad of daughters, videos like the one below where they talk about the stats of sex trafficking absolutely crush me. I have such a hard time believing they’re describing the planet I live on, but they are.

In support of the campaign they’ve developed a new perfume called “Hello Freedom.” I’m not personally going to wear it, because, well, I’m a boy. But, I did buy some for my wife, because Mother’s Day is right around the corner. And she is an awesome mom to our kids.

If you’ve got a mom who is awesome too and want to help fight sex trafficking, pick up some of the new perfume or one of the other cool things they developed for this campaign.

Click here to help HelloSomebody and Rescue Her.