Jon Acuff's Blog, page 106

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.)

Free book giveaway for introverts!

Not going to lie, when I posted about introverts last Thursday, I was not expecting 1,000 comments.

In fact, I was actually a little concerned that no one would pipe up about the most awkward things that happen at church for introverts.

I was wrong. Very wrong.

Fortunately, there are people a lot smarter than me who recognize how important it is to engage in the introverts and extroverts conversation at church. People like Adam McHugh. I met him last year at Catalyst and he wrote a book called “Introverts in the Church: Finding Our Place in an Extroverted Culture.” After he saw the post on SCL he emailed me and asked if he could give a few copies away. I said, “Free stuff for the SCL readers? Yes!”

So, Adam is going to give 5 copies of his book away. To enter, just comment on this post by midnight pacific time Friday, April 27. Adam will pick 5 winners at random and send you a copy of his book. If you want to skip the whole contest process and pick up a copy, here’s where to do that.

Thanks for the free books Adam!

Introverts, extroverts, comment away!

Is God boring?

Last summer I got stung four times by jellyfish while visiting Tybee Island. If you don’t follow me on Twitter than you probably missed that fascinating series of tweets that mostly involved me saying stuff like “Got stung by a jelly fish again today! Why does this keep happening?”

Looking back on it a year later it’s pretty obvious why it kept happening. I was in the ocean. Where jellyfish live. And I have amazing skin. Pores most people kill for. Just completely irresistible to most forms of marine life. The bigger question is, “Why am I not constantly getting stung by jellyfish, even when I’m not in the ocean? What is keeping them away from me in the grocery store or when I’m playing jai lai?”

Once I had chopped some wood and wrestled a bear so I could forget the pain of the stings, two activities I regularly do to offset the lack of manliness my unbelievable skin generates, I forgot all about the jellyfish.

Until the aquarium.

I saw a trio of jellyfish floating in the water and the first thought I had was one I was not expecting,

“The world didn’t have to be beautiful.”

Have you ever thought about that?

Jellyfish didn’t need to look like canopied dreams, flying underwater with a grace that shames ballet dancers.

Sunsets didn’t have to look like paint sets exploded against the wall, slowly falling down the horizon.

The tide on this planet didn’t need to dance with the pull of a glowing sphere thousands of miles away.

God didn’t have to make the world beautiful.

He could have designed sunsets like we designed light switches. On, off. He could have been utilitarian. Function meets function with form nowhere to be found. Instead, the deeper we explore the planet, the more we see the creativity he’s whimsically hidden on every inch.

Fish that provide their own light. Slugs that are neon and fireworked. Hundreds of species of butterflies migrating thousands of miles on wings that are gossamer thin. He’s playful in his design, curious and colorful in ways we can barely scratch the surface of.

Though we often paint God in two colors, “gray” and “angry,” the more I see the world, the harder it is for me to think he’s vanilla.

Question:

Have you ever seen something in nature that made you see the creativity of God?

When worship songs go blank.

Say what you will about hymnals, they never went blank in the middle of a song. In between verses you never looked down and realized there were suddenly no words on the page. But that happens to worship songs sometimes.

Equipment fails. A coffee is spilled in the soundbooth. A volunteer didn’t load all the slides. The worship leader went too fast with the song and got ahead of the person controlling the words. Any number of things can happen, but the result is always the same.

You look up to belt out the next verse of “Blessed Be Your Name” and you’ve got nothing. The screen is blank. There are no words. This has happened to me a number of times at church over the years and these are only 4 possible things you can do in the audience:

1.Watermelon.

Oldest trick in the book. When you don’t know the words to a song, you simply mouth, “Watermelon,” over and over again. Why this word is the accepted fake out word, instead of say, “Honey Dew Melon,” is beyond me, but it’s true. You need a go to lip synch word? Watermelon time.

2. Stop singing.

Sit this verse out. That’s what happened the last time I was at church and the words went blank. 98% of the crowd stopped singing and just kind of stared at the worship leader in the same way people stared at me when I walked in to my friend Jake’s surprise party and his wife Tara yelled out, “That’s the guy that ruined the surprise party.” Probably not my favorite entrance I’ve ever made into a room.

3. Close your eyes.

It’s not that you don’t know the words of the song, not at all. You’re just so deep in worship you can’t even open your eyes. Lot of people are going to add some outstretched arms to this move, but not me. Pretending to be lost in worship is dicey business. Be careful about this option.

4. Go up to the soundbooth and tell them there’s a mistake.

If there’s one thing sound guys/girls love is when people point out a billboard sized mistake. Maybe you’re the only one who noticed it. Just say, “I’m not sure if you saw or not, but we’re all trying to worship baby Jesus right now and you’re kind of shotblocking that moment. Could you not do that please? Can we have the third verse?” That should go over well.

What do I do when the words go blank during a worship song? I say a small prayer. It goes something like this, “God, will you please remind me to write about this situation on Stuff Christians Like? I’m worshipping and don’t want to snap out of that to pick up my moleskine and scribble this idea down. Will you please hold it and give it back to me when I’m flying on a plane and in writing mode? Thanks!”

But then, I’m weird.

Question:

What do you do when there’s an error on the worship music lyrics?

Road trip wedding vows.

A few weeks ago my family and I drove to Tampa, Florida.

I don’t know if you’ve looked at a map in a while, maybe a topographical gem or one of those ones that used to be on big rollers in elementary schools, but that’s a long drive.

It’s more than 700 miles.

And we did it during Spring Break, which meant that at 5:15AM in the morning when we were at the Monteagle rest stop, there was a line in the bathroom. I expected a ghost town but there was a line, mostly populated by people from Michigan and Indiana. I’m almost positive those two states were completely empty that week because they were all on the road with us.

Before we dragged our 6 year old and 8 year old out of bed at 4AM to get started. Before we fired up some Ducktales and Rescue Rangers DVDs in the backseat for our kids, a whoo woo! Before we even came up with our snack strategy, my wife and I do something every time we travel long distance:

We renew our road trip wedding vows.

Prior to any trip of substantial girth, my wife and I look at each other in the eye, put on a little Babyface and say some form of the following:

“We’re about to spend 13-solid hours in a car together with two children under the age of 8. We’re about to battle 18-wheelers, mountains and Michiganers as we barrel down a long, relentless highway. We’re about to get behind an ocean of slowly moving RVs as snowbirds leave Florida with their winter tan plumage. And no matter what happens. I love you. Nothing on this journey will change that. No vomiting child in south Georgia. No rest stop bathroom grossness. No GPS directions that attempt to steer us into the ocean. With God and Google Maps as my witness, I love you.”

And then we get in the car.

If you’re not married, print this post out and keep it in your purse or wallet. You might need it some day.

If you’re married, have you and your spouse ever renewed your road trip wedding vows?

Believing the Elders are Bond. James Bond.

(It’s guest post Friday!  Here’s one from Julie Rhodes, who blogs at Wet Behind The Ears. If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Believing the Elders are Bond. James Bond.

Unless your church is the renegade Clint Eastwood of churches, it probably has elders. If you don’t think you have elders, you probably do, but they have chosen to keep their existence a secret until the appointed time. If you are aware there are elders in your church, I dare you to name one of them. Go ahead. Try.

A few weeks ago, all the elders at my church were up on stage for a forum with ministry leaders and volunteers. It was the first time most of us had ever seen them together. This was like discovering the man behind the curtain, except they all had proportionate eyebrows.

One of them stood out: The Chairman.

I had heard lore of The Chairman. For the past 8 years he has served in some capacity on the elder board, yet I have never met him nor seen him. He is a phantom, an idea, a legend. This was huge to see him so exposed, so out in front.

And then he spoke, and that’s when something even bigger became apparent.

At first, it was like hearing a sweet song you know but cannot name, a song which takes shape into something more recognizable, but is still below awareness until it finally crystallizes: by jove, this fellow is British!

Yes, that is, in fact, a genuine British dialect. He even crosses his legs at the knee. What? What’s that he said? He’s a tennis pro at a golf club? Well, one thing is for certain: this is no mere mortal.

It took me a moment to collect my thoughts. Are all chairmen British? Is this a rule in nondenominational Bible churches in Texas with coffee shops? Or is my brain misfiring?

But no. It is confirmed later by several sources, including the Holy Spirit that The Chairman is, and always has been, a transplant from England. Jolly good!

Then I start wondering other things.

Things like: is his Aston Martin parked in the circle drive next to the nursery check-in? Is he packing a small but lethal weapon that has been modified for Gospel-spreading work? Perhaps his sensible shoes and casual Dockers are Velcro pullaways that reveal an expensive tuxedo in which he can exegete difficult Bible passages. Maybe he has throwing stars stored in the lesser-read books of his Bible, like Nahum.

I don’t think elders mean to be international men of mystery. They probably go to their day job like everybody else, drive home, eat a little Hamburger Helper (without adding salt), then drive up to church for a four-hour meeting every other week like it’s no big thang.

Or do they?

Or do they emerge from their forest mansions in the dead of night? With freshly shaven jaws? Which begs the question, is your senior pastor really Judy Dench?

The world may never know. All it really needs to know is Jesus Saves. And the elders will ensure that happens using any means available but not limited to: pen bombs, card tricks, fast boats, tiny weaponry and devastating personal charm.

Can you name the elders at your church?

(For more great stuff from Julie, check out her blog at Wet Behind The Ears.)

SCLQ – Introverts

Last Monday I wrote a post about a worship leader asking a crowd I was in to “hug someone.” (If you haven’t read “Worship Leader Simon Says“, well, I hate to overuse the word ‘life-changing,’ but …)

The most popular comment on the post was something I would have never expected:

“Aaaaaand…. all the introverts run away.”

Whoa, in four years of writing Stuff Christians Like I’ve largely ignored a whole group of people. I’ve never written about being an introvert at church. It wasn’t on purpose, it’s just that most days I’m a ridiculous extrovert. I’m an ENFP in the Myers-Briggs test. (ENFP is easily the most awesomest personality type, just ask an ENFP. We’ll write a musical about it for you.) I’m 100 on the I scale in the DISC profile. And I was an otter on a different personality test. Because I like to float on my back and smash mussels together from the bottom of river beds. Or I’m outgoing.

Meanwhile, there are millions and millions of introverts sitting around me at church. Not all at once. (Imagine how often you’d have to scoot to the middle to accommodate a million people.)

So today, I want to do something simple. I want to write a post titled, “10 most awkward moments Introverts experience at church.”

Only, I’m not an introvert. I could write the post but it wouldn’t be that funny. Instead, I’m throwing you the mic. If you’re an introvert, this is your chance. Write a response to this question in the comments:

“What’s something awkward that happens to introverts at church?”

I’ll pick the 10 funniest next week and give you credit.

Ready? Go.

(I completely see the irony and risk in asking a group of introverts to speak up on a blog, but I still think they will share some awesomeness in the comments.)

New Quitter Conference Dates!

We’re holding another Quitter Conference September 21-22 in Nashville, TN!

Why?

Because I bumped into joy and once you do, you can’t help but share it with other people.

People believed in me and encouraged me to chase my dream. And now I want to do the same for you.

I believe you’ve got something unique you were created to do. Something you were designed for and I want to help you do that. And I want to introduce you to hundreds of other people who are chasing dreams too.

I think there are some smart, simple things you can do to close the gap between where you are right now and where you’re meant to be. Let’s spend Friday night September 21 and all day Saturday, September 22 working together.

Let’s figure out our dreams, face our fears, build support for the adventure ahead and know when it’s time to jump.

You can watch a preview video at QuitterConference.com for more info. But if you don’t have a chance to watch it, just know that I’m excited about the journey you’re on and can’t wait to help you.

The last Quitter Conference sold out. Sign up today to get the lowest rate!