Jon Acuff's Blog, page 105

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.

SCLQ – Ants

Yeah, that’s right, “Ants.”

Though I’ve posted before about my disdain for ticks and mosquitos (I’m incredibly unique), I’ve never really noticed the wonder of ants.

Until this video.

In it, scientists pour 10 tons of cement down an abandoned ant colony structure underground. After the cement is dry they excavate the entire colony and study the structure, which is amazing.

All of this reminds me of what Bittersweet Fountain said on last week’s post about how God didn’t have to create a beautiful world. It could have been boring. Here is their comment:

I see your “beautiful” and raise it by a “complex”. God didn’t have to make the world, the universe so complex.

There’s great beauty and complexity in this video. Check it out.

 

Refusing to change seats.

A few months ago my wife made a power play and announced to me that we were now “Front Row Baptists.”

Those weren’t her exact words, but the gist is the same. Starting next Sunday, instead of sitting 7 rows deep, middle section, far right, slammed against the end of the pew, we were headed to the front row.

I wasn’t particularly thrilled about sitting in the splash zone. Growing up as a pastor’s kid, I had spent many a Sunday morning on the front row. I staged a small revolt as a teenager and was able to move deeper into the crowd like the assassin that saved Julia Roberts in the boat scene of The Pelican Brief, but suddenly that front row was drawing me back. Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!

There were five reasons I didn’t want to change seats:

1. The Holy Spirit knew where to find me in my old seat.

As a kid, I was always terrified to visit my grandparents’ house in North Carolina on Christmas. Santa knew I lived in Ipswich, Massachusetts. I was afraid he’d land on our roof, find the house empty, and drop a satchel of coal right down the chimney. Same concern here. Me and the Holy Spirit have logged some miles in the seventh row. Who knows how long it’d take for me to be found in the first row.

2. I was already in a good “minimal scoot zone.”

Our church is currently experiencing a scoot to the middle epidemic. I had established a comfortable level of scoot in the seventh row. Who knows what kind of scoot situation they’ve got going up in the front row?

3. I knew roughly which ushers we were going to get.

Ever been caught in an offering bucket pile up? That awkward moment when two buckets are accidentally sent down the same pew from different directions until you have a head on collision? I have. It isn’t pretty. But after a few months in the seventh row, I had come to trust the quality of the ushers I had access to. No telling what kind of usher is working the front row.

4. I am secretly old inside.

Who knew I was such a curmudgeon and didn’t want to switch seats at church? Next thing you know I’ll be petitioning Netflix to get “Matlock” added to their watch on demand section, while I wonder if I’m getting enough fiber in my diet. My bones are tired!

5. Fans who want to take photos know where to find me.

Once your books have hit “multi-mica” or the flaky rock you might know as “phyllosilicate,” it’s hard to get through church without photos being taken. At least if I sit in the same place Sunday after Sunday the paparazzi helicopters know which section of the church to hover above.

There’s a chance that last one is exaggerated. In Nashville, the guy sitting next to you at church is probably a member of Sugarland. There aren’t any helicopters looking for me.

But the rest of those reasons, those are true.

How about you, though?

When you go to church, do you sit in the same seat every time?

Too Loud for Jesus?

(It’s guest post Friday!)  Here’s a post from Courtney Ousley who blogs about life at TheCuriousCalico.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Too Loud for Jesus?

Here in the Live Music Capital of the World (Austin,TX), our church caters to young hipsters who like music. Very, very loud music. For the rest of us weenies, there’s a free stash of ear plugs.

But while you make shalom with your cochlea, ear plugs come with their own set of dilemmas:

1. Do you rip open the package and pop them in right away so you’re prepared for that first blast of joyful noise unto the Lord? Or do you wait until the lights go down and then subtly try to slip them in?

2. Do you pull them out when it’s time to “greet the person sitting next to you”? Or do you just smile and nod – you won’t remember that guy’s name next week anyway, right?

3. What about when it’s time to pray? It’s hard to pretend you’re giving God your undivided attention while stuffing used ear plugs into your pants pocket. But do you leave them in? If your church doesn’t splurge for the nice neutral tones, then what better way than neon purple foam to tell your neighbors that you’re 40 decibels more sensitive to God’s voice than they are?

4. What if you cram them so far inside your ear that you can’t fish them back out when it’s time for the sermon? (True story – don’t laugh! And if you’re single, add “small fingers” to your list of ideal characteristics for a future mate.)

5. Do you save them for the closing song? Put them back in the plastic wrapper? Balance them strategically on your lap if you’re wearing a skirt? And what if you attend a young, hip, loud church and you’re into the environment? Do you bring them back next week? And the next? What can you even recycle ear plugs into? Are there ear plug crafts at VBS? (“Look, a flock of purple sheep!”)

Still self-conscious? You can usually find your ear-plug-loving brethren hiding in the back near the “stroller section,” as far away from the speakers as possible. Just like you.

Question:

Do you accept the free gift of ear plugs or worship au naturel?

(To read more great stuff from Courtney, check out her blog at TheCuriousCalico.)