Jon Acuff's Blog, page 113

What our Twitter viruses say about us.

"Never offend someone who has a Rottweiler in their profile photo and is in charge of the unofficial Eazy-E fan club."

That's a lesson in Twitter etiquette I learned the wrong way. I'll be teaching folks everything I know about Twitter at the Quitter Conference on February 10 & 11, but that's a free nugget of wisdom for you.

In my defense, that terrifying gentleman with the threatening vocabulary misinterpreted what I had said about Eazy-E, the 1980s rapper.

Here's what I tweeted from @jonacuff:

Every time I see Dr. Dre optimizing computers in that HP commercial, I think, "This is exactly what NWA was all about."

I wasn't making fun of Easy-E. I was making a social commentary on the unexpected career trajectory of Dr. Dre. There's not a person alive who heard Dr. Dre in the 1980s and thought, "You know what this guy will be doing in the future? Optimizing computers for Hewlett Packard."

Next thing I know, I'm involved in a tweet battle with a guy in Compton.

Lesson learned.

But in addition to picking up wisdom like that on Twitter, I discovered something else really interesting the other day. And it came to me in the form of a virus.

Here's how viruses on Twitter work.

A spammer sends you a direct message (The Twitter version of an email.) In the message is a link. When you click on the link, it takes you to a page that looks like the login page to Twitter. You login with your name and password at which point the spammer has control of your account. They then proceed to send a direct message to each of your friends as if they were you. (You can only DM people who follow you.)

The common protocol after that happens to you is to tweet, "I got hacked!" which is not exactly true. There wasn't a Mission Impossible-type Bulgarian hacker who spent many a long hour trying to crack your password. The majority of the time, if you got a Twitter virus it means you saw a link, were curious about the link, and gave somebody your info.

So, based on the Twitter viruses you get from friends, you can start to pick up on what people are really motivated by. For instance, I got 20 virus direct messages sent to me and they reveal a curious trend.

Spammers started by trying to appeal to people's desire to lose weight. They tweeted things like: "Want to lose any weight? Go here: URL best product for losing weight."

Then they tried an appeal to people's desire to be rich. Here's a spam direct message I saw yesterday: "This woman on CNBC tells a story about how shes making money online! I just started and already made 53 dollars today!!"

I love that they chose the random amount of $53. The hope is that you'll think, "If they promised me a million dollars, I'd never believe it. But $53? That feels honest. I want $53." Click.

Finally, they tried a spam that appeals to people's sense of self worth. Here's a spam I saw today: "You seen what this person is saying about you? URL terrible things."

Guess which one worked best? Guess which one more people fall for?

The one that says "You seen what this person is saying about you?"

More than 90% of the Twitter spam I get carries some form of this message. Other versions of the same idea include:

"What were you thinking in this photo?"

"There is a rumor/blog going around about you."

"This person is using their Twitter feed to say horrible things about you."

"I just found this funny photo of you online. LOL!"

The verbiage might differ, but the meaning is the same.

"You're a worthless person. Someone is saying that online. Want to see?"

And we click. We click by the tens of thousands. Even with busted grammar like "You seen" we rush to that bad blog or bad photo of us. Critic's Math is part of it, but I think the problem is even bigger. Why do we click on something that says we're horrible?

Because we're secretly afraid it might be true.

Deep down, in the wounded part of us, we're afraid they might be right. We're unlovable. We're not enough. We're a failure. We guzzle poison about our identities even while we reject compliments.

Someone tells us we did a good job on something, and we immediately respond, "Oh that, that's nothing." We can't shake the feeling of that compliment off our skin fast enough. And so the chance to see our fear validated online? To click a link that says we're horrible and see the proof? We can't resist that. Our ego takes the bait, and our fear pushes us forward.

That's part of the reason the Bible is so crazy to me. As we rush off to find anyone or anything to determine our identity, the Bible sits quietly by with page after crazy page of truth about who we are.

Ephesians 2:10 calls us God's handiwork. His work of art.

2 Corinthians 5:17 says that anyone in Christ is a new creation.

Zephaniah 3:17 says he delights in us. Not likes us. Not tolerates us. Delights.

We are the only creation on the entire planet God put his breath in. The most amazing sunset can't say that. The mountains can't proclaim that. The deepest ocean can't declare that.

Only we can.

Maybe somebody told you that you were worthless a long time ago. Maybe a parent gave you that identity or a teacher singled you out or a boss tried to make that your title. But it's not.

Stop drinking poison. Stop clicking on links that say you're horrible. Stop listening to the voice of doubt and fear. Stop believing you're anything less than the person God loved so much he sent his son to the cross for as the only means of rescue.

SCLQ – Skits

If people are honest in Hudson, Massachusetts, they'll tell you that, in the eighth grade, I absolutely dominated our church's dramatic interpretation of Michael Jackson's "Man in the Mirror."

Words like "lyrical poetry" and "unstoppable rhythm" come to mind when I think about my ability to tell a story on stage with my dancing. Bottom line: When it comes to church skits, I had the moves like Jagger. I work out.

Pop culture jambalaya!

But just the other day, it hit me, "I haven't seen a church skit in years!" And they've not just gone missing from my church. I visited 20 different churches in 2011 and saw neither hide nor hair of a church skit. No couple before the sermon that is having marriage problems to set the scene. No youth group car crash "I wish we'd all been ready for Jesus" skit. Nary a ribbon was twirled nor a gloved hand was mimed.

Did I miss the memo?

Did we vote skits out of the building?

Did video kill the skit star?

Does your church do skits during service?

Wishing you could dance like they do at Greek Orthodox Churches.

Dear Baptists, Methodists, etc.,

I rewrote this first sentence 14 times because I didn't know how to break the news to you. So I'm just going to come right out with it.

We are missing out.

For years, decades, maybe even centuries, we've been getting the short end of the stick. How do I know?

Because I went to a festival at a Greek Orthodox Church, and they have … dancing.

Were you aware of this? How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me?

I'm not talking about just regular dancing either. I'm not talking about the slow motion choir side-step that we're OK with. You know the one: "robe to the right, robe to the left." This wasn't boring dancing.

This was raucous, reckless abandon, God-is-big-and-bright-and-beautiful dancing.

There were skirts that had coins tied to them that spun around and made noise. There was clapping and laughing and that color of blue you see on Greek diner coffee cups. And when the sun went down, there was fire.

Not a small circle of fire people stepped into like Johnny Cash, there was a huge ring of fire that people danced inside. They had fire! They literally danced in fire and kicked their legs and did all the fun things Footloose tried to tells us were awesome all those years ago.

I didn't get to have a first dance at my wedding because the church we were married in didn't allow dancing. No father-daughter dance. No uncle embarrassing himself to Fergie's "Fergilicious" dance.

OK, that last one was a pretty good thing to avoid, but don't make me quote the verse where David dances in the OT to get this thing in motion.

I don't know if you're reading this blog or if you ever listen to my pleas. But if you do, if you're still out there, can we take a vote? At the next convention, in addition to talking about how every church should buy the Stuff Christians Like book in bulk, can we please form some sort of Greek Dance Committee? I'll volunteer to do some more reconnaissance. We could all get nicknames like "Gyro" and "Orzo."

And then we'll hold festivals too and get Hillsong United Greece to play at them. This idea has legs, and those legs are ready to spin around in a ring of dance fire.

Sincerely yours,

Jon

Question: 

Are you with me on this?

SCLQ – Parades

Two weeks ago, I mentioned Bob Goff as someone who inspires me. And part of the reason I dig Bob so much is his undying love for parades. (If you read Donald Miller's book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, then you know about the Goff family's parade tradition.)

The short story is they started a parade in their neighborhood. And the only rule is that no one is allowed to watch, but anybody can participate.

That sounds silly, but years later hundreds of people have joined this New Year's Day tradition and discovered the joy of being in a parade with lots of lots of people you love.

This year, the Grand Marshal was a boy named Rodrick from Uganda who has an amazing story.

Bob's son Richard made a short video about the experience. I thought it was beautiful and perfectly shareable for a Saturday such as this one.

 

The Clap Offering.

(It's guest post Friday! Here's one from Ben Cotten. He writes a blog over at bencotten.net. If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here's how!)

The Clap Offering – By Ben Cotten

I grew up in a non-denominational church that did "modern" worship before it was cool. Granted, what we did wasn't exactly Hillsong United, but it did involve an overhead projector and a PA system. It was the 7-11 approach to worship music. 7 words, sung 11 times. Remember "I Exalt Thee"? Ever heard that song done 11 times with a polka beat? You haven't lived.

A lot of things have changed since then, but one thing has not.

The Clap Offering.

When the worship band finishes a song, it never feels like it should end. We never know quite what to do with our hands during that moment. If we were attending a performance, we would clap for the band during that awkward dead air. It's what we do at rock shows. We congratulate the band on a good performance by clapping. Or, alternatively, we clap for the performers to make them feel better about a bad performance, as is the case at your daughter's dance recitals.

But at church, we aren't supposed to be performing. Yet, we feel this compulsion to clap. We can't help it. We find ourselves clapping, then realize we can't clap for the band so someone will shout "Let's give a clap offering to the Lord! Hurray!"

Uhhh… whah? I'm no Jesus, but I don't know how impressed He'll be by my sacrificial slapping of skin together. Or does Jesus really appreciate a good clap? Does it make Him feel better about Himself when I say, "Way to go, Jesus. Nice job"?

And, I'm confused. What makes a good clap offering? What's the difference between one that may be "acceptible to the Lord only because of grace" and one that He really likes? How would the apostle Paul clap? Is there a clap offering technique to be practiced during Sunday School classes? What if I do the cheerleader clap, with both palms cupped and hitting together? Does that count as worship leading?

Do I get extra "points" for the over-the-head, rock-n-roll band front-man clap while bobbing my head? What if I turn to the audience and start waving my hands up and down, palms up like a gangsta chanting, "Give it up! Give it up! A clap offering. Give it up! Give it up!" I may not be clapping myself, but I am releasing others into their clap callings. Disciples make disciples, after all.

What about the solitary and slow, yet building faster and louder clap? You know the one. It's been featured at the climax of all great sports films. One guy takes a stand and begins clapping alone until others join him in a moving display of solidarity with the hero. It's more dramatic than other claps, so does that make it better? You can combine this one with a standing ovation and a knowing nod to your neighbors too. Very versatile.

Or the famous golf clap? It's soft, yet respectful.

What if I lost both my palms in a terrible handball accident and all I can do is snap my fingers? Is the "snap offering" a reasonable, if inferior, substitute for the clap offering? They say that, when you lose one sense, the others intensify. I bet there are some palmless people out there who can really snap like the dickens. Should they be excluded?

Maybe I'm over-thinking this though. Maybe I'm having a hard time taking the truth from my head to my heart and eventually my hands.

Or maybe it's not the clap, but the heart behind the clap that matters.

(Did you give me a clap offering at the end there? That was a pretty dramatic left turn I took. Kind of a sprinkle of Serious Wednesday right there in the last line.)

Question:

Has your church ever done a "clap offering?"

(For more great stuff from Ben Cotten, read his blog or follow him on Twitter.)

SCLQ – What we hear.

A few months ago I wrote a post called "." It was about how the prodigal son thought he was no longer worthy to be called a son, and how God kept saying "you are mine" over and over again in response.

And though it's not Wednesday, I found two videos that captures that moment perfectly. Because along the way we all hear voices. Voices that tell us we're not good enough for God. Or we've blown it too many times to ever step through the doors of a church. Or if we could just stop doing that thing we keep doing, God would be happy with us. Some of us have heard those voices so long they've become like soundtracks for our lives. But into that noise, into that clutter, I think God loves to speak the truth. I think he loves to give us our real name, our real identities, and our real freedom.

It reminded me of these videos. A bajillion people have seen them, and you might have too. The first is a girl who was born deaf, finally getting to hear for the first time at the age of 29. The second video of a deaf baby hearing for the first time, and the moment he smiles so big that he drops the pacifier is unbelievable.

My new problem with rap music.

A weird thing happened to my generation.

A lot of us grew up thinking of church as strict and fundamentalist and a buzz kill. Christians got a reputation of being hypocritical and close minded and constantly protesting anyone who didn't agree with them.

You drink beer? Enjoy your fold out couch in hell.

You watch movies that aren't rated G? Gonna be a hot one in the fiery furnace.

You listen to music that's not Christian? It starts with "h" and ends in "ades."

Was everyone's church experience like this? Not at all. But for me and a large group of people, this was the perception we grew up with of faith. So what did I do in reaction to that?

I boomeranged the other direction. I was so afraid of being labeled judgmental or close-minded or fundamentalist that I over corrected in the other direction.

I realized this while jogging the other day while listening to Kanye West and Jay-Z. I was listening to their song "No Church in the Wild."

It is a phenomenal song to run to. The beat is ridiculous. The chorus is epic. That song alone took 34 seconds off my average per mile time. Make no mistake, Kanye and Jay-Z are at the top of their game on "Watch the Throne," and I've heard their concert is awesome.

But then I started listening to the lyrics. And, though I chose verses that are free of profanities, if you've never read rap lyrics you might want to bail on this post right now. Here's a sample of what Kanye says:

Coke on her black skin made a stripe like a zebra

I call that jungle fever

You will not control the threesome

Just roll the weed up until I get me some

We formed a new religion

No sins as long as there's permission'

The song continues, as Kanye describes a lady friend he is interested in possibly dating:

Two tattoos, one read "No Apologies"

The other said "Love is cursed by monogamy"

That's somethin' that the pastor don't preach

Now normally, I like to pretend that there's this grey area that exists for me to put rap and movies I want to watch in. I like to say things like:

I only listen to it because it's so well-written.

It's like Switzerland. Neither bad nor good. It's neutral.

I don't want to be judgmental. Pull the plank out of your eye before you pull the splinter out of lyrics.

Or I'll edit Paul's verse from 1 Corinthians 10:23 into "Everything is permissible."

And those coping techniques have been pretty awesome to me over the years. But here's the problem: 1 Corinthians 10:23 is longer than three words. It actually says:

"Everything is permissible"–but not everything is beneficial. "Everything is permissible"–but not everything is constructive.

Stupid Paul and his complete thoughts.

So now I have to figure out how to prove to myself that a rap lyric about cocaine on somebody's body is a beneficial thing to put in my head. That's a tough road, my friend.

Here are some possible excuses I could make:

1. Aren't there more important issues we should be concerned about?

I love this excuse because it's so ridiculous. "Aren't there more important things we should be focused on instead of profanity? There are people starving in the world!" What's funny is that those things aren't mutually exclusive. It's not like anyone in the history of mankind has ever been on the mission field feeding starving orphans and said "Hold up, did someone just drop the f-bomb? Stop everything. We gotta focus on this instead." Are there more important problems in the world (and my own heart) than me listening to rap music? Without a doubt. Does their existence mean I can't be deliberate about what music I listen to? No.

2. It's just music. It doesn't impact me.

Nonsense. I'm such a liar with this point. How can I believe that finding the perfect music to run to helps me run faster, and then on the same hand say "music doesn't impact me?" How can we cry when we hear a certain song come on because it reminds us of a break up and then say, "music doesn't impact me?" How can we write long blog posts about how a movie like Braveheart changed our lives or say that a book opened our eyes to the world, but then pretend other movies and books don't have any impact on us? Whether I like it or not, the things I ingest impact me. And I can't read the book of Proverbs without seeing how critical and powerful words are. Proverbs 12:18 says "Reckless words pierce like a sword …". The words you say and the words that are said to you.

3. I don't want to seem like a puritanical dork.

This is the "I want to seem relevant" excuse and is a surprisingly powerful one. Sometimes I still feel like I'm in the seventh grade, wearing a champion sweatshirt and cuffed Bugle Boy jeans and hoping I get to sit at the cool table. I don't want to seem judgmental or dorky or any other words that mean "not popular." Sometimes I'll even throw evangelism in the mix and say, "This is what this new generation listens to. How am I supposed to witness to them if I'm so behind on the times?" Again, ridiculous. No one ever says, "I really appreciate that, as a Christian, you live your life exactly like mine, while at the same time telling me that Christ has a completely different life for me to live. That was not confusing at all. That helped me discover the love of Christ."

4. Where do you draw the line?

I use this argument to distract myself. Case in point: I heard a Christian radio station once playing the music from a Coldplay song in the background of their show. They'd never play the actual song with the lyrics, but the music itself was fine. So are harmonies Christian and lyrics aren't? What about the Kanye song "Jesus Walks"? That has the name "Jesus" right in the title? How many swears make a movie "not beneficial?" Is it "3 and you're free, more than 10 and you're in sin?" Where do you draw the line? This is a great excuse because what happens is you eventually say, "You're right, it's hard to draw a perfect line so let's not draw any."

Now some of you are definitely thinking, "Wow, did you really just spend 1,000 words debating whether you should listen to profane rap? Way to dig deep into the complicated theological issues, Acuff. No you shouldn't. That one was settled years ago." Some others are thinking, "I love Jay-Z. Why are you being so close-minded and judgmental?"

I think both questions have a place in this conversation. But I'm not judging Kanye's heart. I'm judging what I put into mine. I don't know Jay-Z, and the amount of grace I've received for my brokenness makes it hard for me to look for splinters in other people's eyes.

And maybe rap music isn't where you find a bit of cultural challenge in your own life. Maybe there's a different issue you've been wrestling with. All I know is that I can't keep pretending that I am immune to the things I spend my time doing, watching and listening to. I can't keep thinking Proverbs was wrong and it is possible to put coals in your lap without getting burned.

At some point, I've got to be honest with myself. And God is making that harder and harder to ignore lately.

Direct depositing your tithe.

I feel like over the years of SCL rambunctiousness I've been pretty clear about two t-shirts I think Christians should make. Here's what the t-shirts would say on the front:

1. "I attend night services at church."

This one would allow you to jog on Sunday morning without getting judged by people driving to church. (e.g. "me") Because my first thought is never, "I bet that runner went to church on Saturday night." My first thought is usually, "Worshipping at the temple of flat abs? I see. Good to know."

2. "I direct deposit my tithe."

This would allow you to hot potato the offering plate without getting judged as miserly by your pew radius or row neighbors if you will.

But, much like my idea for a cologne that smells like old hymnals called "For Hymn," my t-shirt ideas have fallen on deaf ears. Until today.

A girl named Tara sent me a photo of a laminated card she saw at a church she was visiting. Here it is:

This simple little card sparked so many questions for me:

1. How did it initially get created? Did someone at the church seriously approach the pastor and say, "Hey, I need you to laminate something for me. I'm tired of looking like a Jesus-hating punk every time that basket goes by."

2. Is this tied to some sort of accounting idea, in that whoever counts the offering needs to know how many people direct deposit their tithe? Or was it created to legitimately showcase to people near you that you give?

3. Is this the only card this church has? Or is it part of a series? Maybe they have cards that say things like, "The special music today wasn't that special" or "Less cowbell please" or "The sermon completely ran over and you know as well as I do that most of the best pieces of fried chicken are going to be gone by the time I get to Shoney's." Once you've known the joy of laminating something, it's hard to stop.

4. Was the t-shirt even considered, or did you skip right by that and go immediately to the laminator? How come no one listens to me?

Those are the questions I have about this little card.

The big thing is: I don't think the offering is a time for performance; it's a time for worship. Unless …you've got a buttery soft American Apparel shirt that's snug, but not too snug, and it says "I direct deposit my tithe" across the torso in a font that is not comic sans. If that's the case, well, all bets are off.

Question:

What do you think about the direct deposit card?

Not singing with your hands raised.

I don't sing at church with my hands raised.

Why?

Mostly because I have really muscular arms, and it's distracting to other people at church. Blocks the view and whatnot. It's worship time, not gun show time. And I'm considerate that way.

But also because it's just not how I'm wired for worship. I've done it from time to time and think it can be a really beautiful outpouring during a church service. I have nothing against singing with your hands raised and actually wrote a guide to the 10 different styles. But what if it's not your thing? What if one Sunday morning you find your seat in a sea of arm raisers, a veritable forest of outstretched limbs? What if you're the only person who is not singing with their hands raised?

Because let's be clear about one thing, you can't cross your arms in that moment. Any communication 101 course you take will tell you that crossing your arms tells people, "I'm not listening or engaged in what's going on right now. I'm resistant." Is that what you're trying to tell sweet baby Jesus? You're resistant to worship? Of course not!

So, here's 3 things you can do when arms go up and yours stay down:

1. The James Dean

I probably need to update this reference and call it the "Ryan Gosling" or something, but I'm just not ready. Regardless, the James Dean is a pretty simple move. When you stand up to worship, put your hands in your front pockets. That's it. Slide them in and now you don't have your limbs all akimbo like Elaine dancing on that episode of Seinfeld. You look a little moody and introspective like, "Hey, my hands are in my pockets 'cause I'm thinking like James Dean or Ryan Gosling about the meaning of life." Or it looks like you have tender hands that are cold in the service and need the warmth of a dungaree cave. Either way, problem solved. (Don't overdo it though or this move mutates into the "Fonzi.")

2. The Waiter

If you ever come to Cross Point and sit behind me and my tree trunk arms, this is probably the move you'll see me doing. Like a waiter standing at attention at a nice restaurant, I simply place the wrist of my right arm into the hand of my left arm behind my back. This move says, "I'm open to worship, I'm receptive, and I'd appreciate you not calling the free bread at Outback 'chocolate bread.' It's actually called 'Honey Wheat Bushman Bread.'"

3. The Foundation of Faith

Not enjoying the James Dean or the Waiter approach? Fair enough. Here's one more thing you can do. Build a foundation of faith by putting your hands on the pew or chair directly in front of you. This move says, "I'm using my arms to brace myself in case the worship music gets so overwhelming that I feel a little faint come on me. I don't want someone to feel the need to put a modesty cloth over me if I collapse in the row, so I've built a foundation of faith to prop myself up."

Those are the techniques I've developed over the years, but I'm sure you have your own.

If all of those don't work, there's a good chance you'll break into some hand dancing. That's when you find yourself tapping your legs or the chair in front of you in a completely off-rhythm way. This is the worship equivalent of air guitar and, though, I often succumb to it, I do not endorse it.

Question:

Do you sing with your hands raised?

It's Shameless Saturday!

What's your blog?

What's your cause? What's your band? What's your book?

What's the link you want people to see more than anything else?

I hereby declare this "Shameless Saturday."

Post a link to whatever it is you're all about, with no shame or apologizing or feeling like you're making a comment on a post you really don't care about but are instead secretly trying to pimp your own blog. (I've done that myself many times. The best way to do it is to say, "That's an interesting post. It reminds me of something I wrote recently on my blog …." Sometimes when people do that, it's actually a good link to something they wrote that is similar to what was written on another post. But when I was trying to build my blog that was something that I always tried to do.)

Please, use the comments this weekend to let us know about your blog or your cause or your band or your whatever. The Internets are so big it's hard to find everything cool. (I try to do Shameless Saturday once a season, so please consider this the winter 2012 edition.)

Tell us what's up in the comments with a link.