Jon Acuff's Blog, page 107

The little girl’s tattoo.

My wife and I spent Thanksgiving in Pensacola, Florida a few years ago. Since our kids go to bed awesomely early, 6:30 eastern, we were stuck in the hotel by ourselves at 5:30 central time every night. There are few things as depressing as sitting on a bed for five straight hours in a Sleep Inn hotel room. In addition to suck-your-soul-out fluorescent lights, the room had this potpourri of bad smells. It was part smoke, part cat, part old Hardee’s hamburger and a smidge of feet.

It was admittedly a good time to catch up on conversation with my wife, but after a few straight days of staring at each other, we were both a little stir crazy. One night, I walked down to the BP gas station that was beside the hotel.

Behind the counter at the gas station was a sad woman in her mid-thirties. She looked tired, like maybe life was hard for her a decade sooner than it should have been. Like maybe she didn’t get to be a kid long enough and all that adulthood was starting to catch up on her.

On the outside of her hand was a small greenish gray tattoo of an X. I was curious about what it meant, so I asked her the significance. Here is her response:

“Oh that? That doesn’t mean anything. My mom gave me that one night when she was drunk.”

That was a kind of weird answer, so I asked her how old she was when it happened. She scrunched up her face for a second in concentration and then said, “I think I was 13.”

When I was 13, I was really concerned about my clothes. I was worried that my mom would buy me a Knights of the Round Table shirt instead of Polo. Or that I would have Reeboks instead of Nikes. These were the kinds of things I focused on, because at that age, kids would tease you for the smallest thing.

But what about showing up to school one Monday with a jagged, bloody green X tattooed on your hand? What was that experience like? How would kids react to that? Didn’t it hurt when her mom gave her that? She was drunk, writing on her daughter with a shaky hand and a hot, homemade needle.

I thought about that the rest of the trip and was considering writing about the marks that our parents give us. They’re not all as obvious as that, and many are actually positive, but I realized that was a narrow way to look at it, because it’s not just parents that give us marks. It’s coworkers and spouses and friends and strangers. And when we don’t know they’re there, sometimes they actually stick.

A few years ago, someone asked me to review a memo at work that included some disparaging remarks about my writing ability. There on page 4 was a giant circle, with a big red line through it, that said “Fluff” and a sentence that promised a coworker was going to eliminate my fluff writing. The person that handed me the memo didn’t realize it was about me. They wanted me to focus on a completely different section of the document, but my eye caught some criticism about the company’s writer, and since I was the only writer there, I couldn’t help but read what was written.

As I walked back to my desk, I was crushed. I felt like my complete lack of value had not only been noticed but captured in a memo. In the quietness of my head though, I felt like God popped in and said, “Hey, that memo doesn’t get to define who you are. I do. And I say you are my son.” I was blown away and, instead of spiraling into despair and shame over that memo, I went back to my desk and wrote what was probably the best thing I’ve ever written for that company.

I wish that single event was enough to forever shake off the bad marks I’ve got on me, but it isn’t. I still doubt. I still believe the lies of the marks. I still, like lots of other Christians, forget who I am. I still give other people’s words too much power. I don’t have it all figured out. Instead, more than anything, life feels like it’s been a long series of believing that I am not who other people define me to be, I am a son of God. I am God’s work of art. And the more I have been open to believing that, the more He’s shown me it’s true.

What I’ve learned over the years is that an experience can’t change that. My relation to God is not a simple little mark. It is not a big tattoo or a little sticker; it is who I am. I cannot completely cover that up or blot it out with failure. The prodigal son tries, he completely messes up his life. But, more importantly, he shows how sometimes the worst marks are the ones we give ourselves. “I’m a bad husband. I’m a terrible employee. I’m ugly.”

These are the words we sometimes hear from ourselves, and they are the kind of words the prodigal son tries to say to his father. (I have written about this story so many times it’s getting a bit ridiculous, but I love the lessons it has for us.) When the prodigal son rehearses his homecoming speech, he decides to conclude it with, “make me like one of your hired men.” That was the last thing he was going to say. But when he speaks to his father, that is the one thing he is not allowed to speak. The rest of his speech comes off without a hitch. “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”

These words are delivered without incident, but he doesn’t ever get to say “make me like one of your hired men.” Why is that?

Why are those eight words left out? You can certainly read that as just accidental, that regardless of the words, the father was going to cut him off before he finished speaking. And maybe that’s right. But when I read that, I read a father stopping a son from saying something the father would never do. The father would never make him like one of his hired men. He would never give the son a new mark of slavery. He would never call him employee instead of son. So he doesn’t even let those words out. He stops him because no new mark would be given that day. The old truth, the one at the core of the son, still holds true.

Despite the pigpen and the prostitutes, the dirt and the deception, the father doesn’t see a hired man.

He sees a son.

He sees his child.

And that changes everything.

Question:

What’s a mark you need to let go of?

(This is a throwback post that originally appeared on SCL a few years ago.)

Babies crying during the sermon.

A few weeks ago at church, there was a baby crying during the middle of the sermon.

Here is what immediately went through my head.

1. Am I the only one that hears that right now? No one else is looking back in that general area. Maybe this is my super power?

2. Heightened hearing? Is that the best superpower? The hearing of a bat?

3. Oh man, I hope my superpower is not just an ability to hear crying babies in crowded rooms. That would be the lamest superpower ever.

4. Except for the character Scarlett Johannson is playing in The Avengers. I love that scene in the trailer where they’re all back to back in the middle of the street. The Incredible Hulk is looking massive. Captain America is standing there with his crazy strength. Iron Man is all suited up. Thor has his mythological hammer. And then Scarlett cocks a handgun. Seriously? She’s a teammate of Thor, and she’s bringing a pistol to the party? If I’m a supernatural villain, I’m thinking “How adorable, tiny bullets!”

5. Don’t be that guy. Don’t you dare look back to see which baby it is.

6. But it’s so hard not to. I’m not judging. I’m just curious. That kid has some lungs! I feel like he’s probably standing up right now with both arms raised above his head victoriously. I gotta see this.

7. I live in Nashville. Maybe that kid will grow up to be the next Garth Brooks, and if I just sneak a glance back I’ll be able to say, “I saw Garth Brooks sing once when he was a baby. Sure hated sermons on spiritual warfare. I’ll tell you that right now.”

8. You can’t turn back to look at a screaming baby and not look like you hate babies. And people who bring babies into church.

9. Maybe they’re a visitor. And it’s their first kid. And their puppy died this morning as well. You’re such a jerk.

10. Remember how hard it was to get L.E. to go to the nursery when she was a baby? She wailed in the hall like you were dropping her off at baby prison. Have some empathy.

11. As a parent, it’s not easy to hand some stranger your baby and, in return, receive an elastic bracelet with a number on it. You vet babysitters at home like you’re the CIA, and now on Sunday morning you’re supposed to just walk up to a stranger in a brightly colored t-shirt and say, “Here’s my baby. I sure hope you’re not crazy. See you in an hour!” Have some empathy.

12. Be careful about writing about this on SCL. Even the faintest hint of suggesting that someone bring their kid to Sunday School instead of big church is libel to stir up some controversy. Like Rob Bell and Harry Potter.

13. Is there a verse where Jesus says, “Don’t you dare drop your kids off at Sunday School?” In the Sermon on the Mount did he ever say, “This next part is for the kids in the crowd. Could they join me up front for a minute?” At that point, did he dismiss them?

14. If we’re supposed to take our kids to big church and have them experience the same sermon adults experience, how come none of the disciples were little kids? How come we never heard about Timmy, the 4-year old disciple who used to get all grouchy when he hadn’t had a nap in a while and got sick of eating fish and loaves? Timmy wanted some chicken fingers!

Eventually the baby stopped crying. Or they took him out of the room. I’m not certain because I didn’t look back at the kid. Cause I love Jesus. And puppies.

How about you?

What goes through your head when you hear a baby cry?

Worship Leader Simon Says

“You may now be seated. Please hug someone before you sit down.”

Like a grenade of intimacy, a worship leader at church threw those two sentences out into the crowd at church three weeks ago.

I paused, mid crouch. Not standing, not sitting, not knowing what to do. When a worship leader tells you to do something, it’s kind of like “Worship Simon Says.” You say sit down. I’m sitting down. You say turn to a certain hymn. I’m turning there. You say greet your neighbor. I’ll greet my neighbor.

But a hug?

That was a bit of a curveball.

In that moment, I had mere seconds to execute one of 4 possible moves:

1. Hug my wife

I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count. When the worship leader said “Hug someone,” she definitely meant someone you didn’t know that well. Plus, my wife and I already hug after each song and then play a game called “Jon tries to kiss Jenny on the mouth in public to embarrass her.” So this move was out.

2. Side hug

I stopped side hugging for free once we put the side hug on the cover of the Stuff Christians Like book. Now I charge a $1.25 per side hug, or a stick of licorice if you’ve got it. Side hug was out.

3. Front hug

I assume handshake or side hug in most social situations with complete strangers. Some people, especially a first-time visitor, might greet my front hug with a Liam Neeson throat chop. Couldn’t do this.

4. Front hug with a single leg wrap

Probably too much, too soon. Probably.

In the time it takes a hummingbird to disappear after you’ve told somebody, “Look at that, it’s a hummingbird!” I made my decision. What did I do?

I punched the guy sitting next to me on the arm and said “Hey man, glad you’re here!” He laughed, and then with his eyes said, “Hey, thanks for not front hugging me with a single leg wrap.”

All in all, it turned out to be a pretty good morning.

Question:

What would you have done in that same situation?

How to tell if you’re dating a preacher

(It’s guest post Friday!  Here’s a post from Cory Copeland who blogs at MadtoLove.com. You can follow him on Twitter @Cory_Copeland.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

How to Tell if You’re Dating a Preacher

There is but one mighty trophy that exists in the brutal competition known as the Christian dating world—that of the young preacher as husband/wife. Wishes have been made, secret séances have been conducted, and felonies have been committed, all in the name of landing a preacher as a spouse. Of this, I am certain.

But how can you tell when that fine young lad or lass you’re interested in has designs on entering the ministry, or is just a good ol’ Christian soul? The subtle nuances can be daunting. Kinda like when Dr. Quinn had to decide if Sully was right for her or just a good-looking white boy who thought he might be a Native American (actually…it’s not anything like that). With that in mind, I present to you, “Cory Copeland’s Guide on How to Tell if You’re Dating a Preacher”:

1. If they do…take over two minutes to pray for the meal.

Let’s just be honest here: We’re a hungry people, we Christians; we like our food. And when we pray for our food, it’s usually a mumbled mess of hasty thanks, and then we’re quickly digging in to our bountiful blessings. But the preachers? No, no, no. They’ll eloquently bless the crap out of a meal until all those within earshot can no longer hear the prayer over the roar of their own stomach’s growling. There is no debating me here.

2. If they don’t…mind being asked to say a little something to the congregation at a moment’s notice.

Most of us would rather have our toes gnawed off by Gollum than be called up to the platform without any prior notice. However, a preacher-in-training is always ready to share a quick word from the Lord. Their color-coded-according-to-importance highlighted Bible is perpetually open to that one Scripture they’ve had a particularly poignant thought on—even if that same thought has been shared 47 other times before. Preachers are like Henry Rowengartner; they’re always ready to bring the heat.

3. If they do…quote scriptures in response to every day questions.

You ask: “How’ve you been doing?”

They respond: “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, brother”

You’re nodding solemnly right now because you know this happens way too often.

4. If they don’t…spend less than an hour on their hair.

Preachers have to look good, okay? They’re up in front of groups of people for hours at a time, and for this to be acceptable, they usually feel the need to spend at least 90 minutes in front of the mirror while using three bottles of product to get that, “Just got a touch from Jesus” glow. It’s their thing, okay? Back off.

5. If they do…set their Bible in-between you and them while on dates.

Because, even if they are holier than you, you can’t be trusted to keep your hands off them, you hooligan. The Bible softly nestled between you guys while you watch Beauty and the Beast should deter you from having any of those silly notions, like that hussy Belle did.

This simple little guideline should get you started on the right path toward figuring out if you’re truly dating a wanna-be preacher or not. If it doesn’t work, that’s what you get for listening to a guy who religiously watched Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman and cried tears of joy when Sully and the good doctor finally tied the knot (I regret nothing).

What sign would you say might tip you off that you’re dating a preacher?

(If you enjoyed this blog from Cory, check out his blog at  MadtoLove.com.)

SCLQ-What Christian book would you turn into a movie?

Tonight I'm going to see the movie adaptation of Donald Miller's book, Blue Like Jazz. As I mentioned on Twitter, I'm really excited to see it because I've shot that movie so many times in my head. It will be fun to actually see what the real film looks like.

It got me thinking: What other Christian books would make a good movie? Now the easy answer is Stuff Christians Like. I mean, it's already got illustrations in it or "storyboards" if you will. It could be called Booty, God, Booty: A Film About Faith. (I'm just spitballing here, work with me.)

But if you had to pick a Christian book that got turned into a movie, what would you pick?

It could be non-fiction or fiction, serious or Amish Romance. Sky is the limit.

What Christian book would you turn into a movie?

Signature sins.

I took a breakdancing class when I was in the third grade.

In Ipswich, Massachusetts, a beautiful, little New England village, our elementary school offered breakdancing lessons.

Maybe they were swept up in the hype of Breakin' 2, Electric Boogalo, in the same way all your friends took swing dancing when the movie Swingers came out.

I'm not sure. I was in the third grade and not focused on pop culture trends. I was focused on making sure I brought my square of cardboard to each class. That was our version of the yoga mat. Unless you grew up on the mean streets of coastal Massachusetts, I'm not sure you can relate.

My signature breakdancing move was the worm.

Recognizing that I couldn't windmill to save my life, and fearing that if I spun on my head long enough I'd develop some crazy skull callus like wrestlers with cauliflower ear, I focused on the worm.

It worked. My worm was ridiculous. It was the one move I was the best at. And it should have been because it was my signature move.

Now, a bajillion years later, surveying my life, I've started to realize I have "signature sins" too.

A signature sin is something big and bold and neon in your life. The moment you look at it, you know, "Oh yeah, that thing? That's a sin." And so you focus on it. You work on it. You get serious about it.

And I have a handful of those things in my life, things that I struggle with that are pretty easy to identify. But something really dangerous has started to happen lately.

Let's say I mess up. I fail at one of my signature sins. I blow it. The next day, I feel separated from God. I feel far away. I feel like I'm no longer righteous. I committed the signature sin. Time to confess. If I messed up on Friday, then on Saturday I need some grace.

The flipside is that, when I'm not committing those signature sins, I feel holy. I feel connected to God, as if he is happy with me those days. As if, on those days, I am perfect.

Over the last few years, I've defined righteousness as not committing my signature sins.

That is ridiculous. Why?

Because on my greatest days, on the days when I don't commit a single one of my signature sins, on the days I feel "perfect," my own definition of righteousness is a million miles from God's.

Theologian C.H. Spurgeon once said, "It is easier to save us from our sins than from our righteousness."

That quote is starting to make sense to me. It's easy to believe signature sins are bad. That makes sense. But, in working on them, I've swung the pendulum over into self-righteousness.

You see this happen with guys sometimes. You'll ask them "How's your walk with the Lord going?" And they'll answer, "Great! I haven't looked at porn in a week."

That's great that they didn't look at porn, but that's not really an answer to the question. But if you secretly start to cultivate some signature sins, you'll end up in the same place. If gossip is your signature sin and you didn't talk trash today, you were holy. If envy is your signature sin and you didn't covet anything today, you were pure. If lust is your signature sin and you didn't look at any nudity online, you were righteous.

It's not true, though. Your self-righteousness is every bit as disgusting and damaging as your signature sin. It might even be worse, because at the heart of self-righteousness is the belief that you don't need God.

Beware the temptation to make an idol out of your signature sins. Our understanding of grace gets destroyed when we do. The reality is:

On my worst days, when I've broken every signature sin, I am in desperate need of God's grace.

On my best days, when I've avoided every signature sin, I am in desperate need of God's grace.

Question:

I'm not asking you to name it, but have you ever had a "signature sin?"

SCLQ – Would Jesus Wear Plaid?

Last week I posted the cover of Newsweek on Instagram. Here is the image:

I then wrote a B- quality caption, "Haven't read the article yet, but I wish I was in the brain storming meeting where someone said, "I think Jesus would rock plaid.""

Then I kind of forgot about it. Until I saw the comments on the photo. Folks started debating how Jesus was dressed. No one pointed out that he'd probably be in a v-neck, given our penchant for the most Virtuous collar of all time, but not everyone thinks like me. In the midst of some back and forth heated discussion about his attire/appearance, a guy named Wade Rininger said something I thought was brilliant:

"Shouldn't we be discussing the fact that the statement made on the cover is something that Jesus would never stand for, instead of what clothes they chose to paint him in?"

As someone who is prone to squabble over petty things, that was pretty convicting to me.

Do you think we as believers ever get caught up in small discussions and miss the big truths we're supposed to be wrestling with?

Free Quitter T-Shirt!

I've never had a boring day wearing the Quitter t-shirt. When I wear it, one of 3 awesome things happens:

1. People pat me on the back because they believe I've overcome a habit, like "Pet Ferret Over-purchasing."

2. People ask me what it means and I get to have a really interesting conversation about dream chasing.

3. I am 37% people stronger and able to dead lift moderately priced Kias.

Two of those are true. One of them is true-ish.

But what is true is that right now, when you buy a copy of Quitter from DaveRamsey.com we'll give you a FREE Quitter t-shirt!

Why should you take advantage of this awesomeness?

1. The t-shirt is high quality. We're not talking "Bulky-T" where it feels like you're wearing a burlap sleeping bag.

2. The t-shirts are exclusive. You can't buy them at Hot Topic or Spencer's Gifts.

3. We printed an extremely small number.

If you waited to buy Quitter, then congratulations my friend. You're about to enter Soft Cotton Country.

Click here to get your copy of Quitter and the free t-shirt today!

If you'd like to know more about the book, here's the trailer, in which I use my lightning fast hands to make several salient points.

 

 

Rabbit rage.

Remember Easter?

I hope so, it was yesterday.

Smart bloggers probably already wrote about this. Me? I like to wait until the day after, until the topic has kind of gone cold and most of the world has moved on and then say, "Hey, what's the deal with March Madness? Anybody watch any basketball? One Shining Moment!"

Like today's post, which I wasn't planning on doing until my friend Diana sent me a photo of a direct mail card she got in her mailbox from a local church. Here is their invitation to Easter Sunday:

My first thought was, "I hope the kids didn't get the mail that day." My second thought was, "There better not have been a single Cadbury Creme Egg harmed in the making of that advertisement."

But I'm weird. It does beg the question though, "Do we hate rabbits on Easter?"

I don't. I think they've pretty awesome as far as woodland creatures go. Our family even briefly considered owning a Flemish Giant rabbit once. (If you don't know what that is, it's a rabbit from Flemland and it's giant. Seems pretty self explanatory.) We could never pull the trigger because ultimately we decided having a giant rabbit in our backyard would be like having a furry yard gnome you had to feed. And the success rate of Flemish Giants learning how to catch a Frisbee is abysmal.

I do however dislike Easter egg hunts. Not because I think they take the focus away from the real meaning of Easter. But because my daughter got taught a painful lesson about life in the last one we were in and I cheated in the one before that. That's right, I cheated. At the hunt we were at they had hidden a few golden eggs. If your kid got a golden egg they won a huge prize at the end. Kids were pushing and diving for these eggs in a way that made the Hunger Games look tame. I may or may not have stepped on a golden egg and then let my daughter think she found it.

So Easter Egg hunts are bad. Or I am. Probably the latter.

But what's your take?

Did you hate on any rabbits last weekend? Or did you give your kids Easter baskets and eggs and other pastel items?

Claiming Musicians as One of Us

(It's guest post Friday!  Here's one from Paul Angone.  Paul is the host of AllGroanUp.com – a collaborative community for those in between growing and grown.  You can also find Paul on Twitter @PaulAngone.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here's how!)

Claiming Musicians as One of Us

"I heard that the lead singer's dad was a missionary…."

"I think the bass player has "Jesus" tattooed in Hebrew on his side."

"I'm pretty sure they were a worship band for a church somewhere in Tennessee. Or maybe it was California?"

"Yeah, man. I'm positive. The band is Christian…. "

"Oh really," you respond. Sitting a little taller in your coffee shop chair, excitedly playing with the idea along with the rims of your thick black-rimmed glasses. "This it it," you think to yourself, we've got someone on the inside, someone successful, someone who can prove that someone can be Christian and talented.

The idea produces more goose bumps than the night you sang "Amazing Grace" holding hands around the campfire.

So you order some songs on iTunes and start listening. I mean really listening. For the Spirit-infused lyrics. For the biblical illusions. The love-songs-that-are-really-about-Jesus that you somehow missed before.

Oh yes, you hear it now. They're not just talented. They're anointed.

It's high school all over again, and the cool senior with the tattoos just walked into Wednesday morning prayer. We Christians have finally made it.

Notable Secular-Christian, Christian Musicians.

Jon Acuff already wrote about arguing about the faith of U2, but the list of Secular-Christian, Christian musicians is longer than the Levitical laws.  Such reputable artists include Collective Soul, OneRepublic, Justin Bieber, Jessica Simpson, Regina Spektor, The Fray, Miley Cyrus, Jewel – the list holds no prejudice to genre or style. If Google says they're Christian, then it must be so.

Creed was driving the train for years with star-struck Christians climbing aboard — Five Iron Frenzy t-shirts quickly being replaced by Scott Stapp looking pensively towards the sky with arms wide open.

Mumford and Sons was the main addition to the list from 2011. Songs like "Awake My Soul" and "Sigh No More" leading countless people to the Lord, of this we are sure. Sure "Little Lion Man" and its chorus of F-bombs confused the equation a bit. But those F-bombs were nothing more than explosions of authentic-emotional-truth. Nothing more. And when in doubt, we'll just turn that song down in the office. Problem solved.

But why? Why is it so tempting for us to throw the Christian label on musicians who have purposely tried to avoid it?

Three Reasons We Quickly Claim Secular Musicians as One of Us

1. Evangelism Made Easy

No longer do we have to coax friends to church or a Christian music festival to be touched by the spirit. No, now we can just slip on that Regina Spektor CD, sit back, and watch the conversion-magic happen.

"Do you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

"Oh, you'll know."

"Know what?"

"Just keep listening…"

2. Guilt-Free Music

The days of giving away all our "secular" CDs after coming back convicted from camp are over. Now we can listen to our favorites, as they are merely undercover agents for the Lord. Buying a CD is like giving money to the ministry smuggling Bibles into a communist country. We can support their secret mission with every $9.95.

3. Cool Christianity

All the angry bearded men with megaphones and signs about hell. All the do's and don'ts, lest you be judged. All the "Christian" music. All the strikes against us can be demolished with just one Mumford and Sons chorus at the proper volume.

It's the best of both worlds: Good music and great God. The only thing that can throw a monkeywrench into the whole thing is when one of the bands we've claimed makes a point of saying, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. We are not Christian." They go beyond the traditional faith disclaimer of "We're not a Christian band. We're a band of Christians" and actually say, "We are decidedly not down with the king." At that point, well, we'll take our albums and go home.

Content that we still haven't found what we're looking for.

Question:

Have you ever claimed a musician as "one of us?"



(For more great stuff from Paul, check out his website AllGroanUp.com.)