Jon Acuff's Blog, page 121

Come to the next Quitter Conference!

Last July we held the first Quitter Conference in Nashville, Tennessee. Here's what a few attendees said:

I'll look back on the weekend of the Quitter Conference as the time when I finally worked out a concrete plan for some ideas that I've had in my head for years. Lee B. Marion, AR

Lots of conferences like to get you all emotionally excited about going out there to "live your dream" but don't do much to equip you. If you really drill in to what they provide in the Quitter workbook, and start executing on it, there's no stopping you. Nathan S. Pendleton, IN

The ideas and tools presented gave me a roadmap for how to turn the dream in my heart into a reality. Julie B. Louisville, KY

And that was only a one day experience! For the next Quitter Conference we doubled it to two days. It's going to be Friday and Saturday, February 10 & 11 in Nashville, TN!

Here are 5 reasons you should sign up today:

1. The first 10 tickets are FREE!

Here's how we priced the tickets:

First 10 people who sign up pay $0.00

Next 10 are $39.00 per ticket.

Next 10 are $59.00 per ticket

Next 10 are $79.00 per ticket

The rest of the tickets will be $99.00 each.

We doubled the conference days and didn't raise the price because we want people to be able to afford it!

2. You're ready to really chase your dream.

The conference isn't just the "Quitter book live." The majority of the content is actually brand new, with tips and tools to help you realize your dream. From mastering social media to knowing when it's time to jump, you'll walk away with a ton of ideas and actions.

3. You want to figure out what your dream really is.

You get a 44 page Quitter Workbook that helps you hone in on what you're actually designed to do. It's only available at the event and walks you through the 6 steps of chasing your dream.

4. You want to plug into a community of other dreamers who can encourage, inspire and challenge you.

At the last Quitter Conference we had more than 180 people from 30 different states. Doctors, lawyers, TV producers, stay at home moms, college students, the crowd was all ages and all stages of life. The only thing they had in common was HOPE & HUSTLE. And it was an amazing room to be a part of and interact with.

5. You've said someday "I'll do ________," for years.

Someday isn't coming. Don't float through 2012 without taking huge steps toward making your dream job a reality.

We're keeping the conference small so that we can have lots of interaction this year. Tickets are going to sell out. So don't miss your chance to come.

Sign up for the Quitter Conference today!

SCLQ – Calling things you like "manna."

Chips & Queso

Cadbury Crème Eggs

Salt & Vinegar Pringles

Banana Pudding

Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte

Big League Chew (Original)

What's that collection of unrelated items? I'm glad you asked. That's my "manna list." You don't have one? I'll pray for you. Every Christian should have a manna list. It's a list of all the foods you've ever called manna, the highest culinary compliment a Christian can give a food item.

Inspired of course by the heavenly treat God rained down on the Israelites, a manna list is nothing to joke about. I didn't casually create that, unlike some people who bandy about the word "manna" to describe any meal that's even remotely delicious.

That list is hand crafted. For instance, notice I didn't say "chips & salsa." I said "queso," the melted nectar originally enjoyed in the garden of Eden. (I refuse to believe Adam and Eve didn't have access to queso. I'm almost positive there was a warm river of it that ran through Eden right next to the Euphrates.)

My only problem is that, right now, my manna list only has six items on it. Clearly, as a Christian, I can only really abide by seven-itemed lists.

What's one thing you'd add to the "manna list?"

What's your manna list look like?

Jump start prayers.

Sometimes I like to think I'm pretty modern. Or maybe postmodern, which ever is the hip one right now.

I wear v-necks. I have an iPhone. I use Twitter like it's my JOB. Occasionally, I'll even listen to a band who plays old-timey music in a new-timey way, with rolled up jeans and banjos and sneaky accordions, which actually makes it cutting edge music.

But, sometimes, I'm shocked at how old-fashioned I really am at heart.

I was reminded of this recently when a pastor I saw "jump started" a prayer. Not familiar with the phrase? That's good, because I think I just invented it.

A "jump start prayer" or JSP is when someone just launches into a prayer in the middle of a thought without any sort of introduction or indication that they are about to pray. With absolutely zero warning, suddenly you're in the middle of prayerville.

Here's what it usually looks like when a pastor jump starts a prayer:

"I was talking to a neighbor recently about crab grass, because it was an issue both our yards had this summer. And I realized, loving your neighbor can start with small conversations like that. God, you are so gracious to us. You make all things new. You make us lie down in green pastures."

Did you catch it? It was subtle, one second we were talking about yard work, and the next second we were addressing the Almighty in prayer. Here's what I always think when it happens:

1. Is saying, "Let's pray" like saying, "I go to Sunday School?"

Nobody goes to Sunday School anymore. They go to life group or small group. Sunday School is so old-fashioned. Is saying, "Let's pray," the same way?

2. How do I know when to close my eyes?

If you say "Let's bow our heads in prayer," do you know what I do? I bow my head in prayer. If you say, "It's so exciting to see everyone here today, Lord you know our hearts, we lift our prayers to you Father God," guess what I do? Stare at you for at least half of the prayer until I realize we're praying, at which point I will close my eyes as fast as possible in sweaty prayer shame.

3. Did you learn this from worship leaders?

Be honest. Did they start this? I bet they did. They've been doing this kind of thing for years. I call it "talk singing." In the middle of saying hello to the crowd, they'll launch into a song with no transition. "My wife and I were having coffee this weekend. And we realized, everyone needs compassion, love that's never failing." I bet you pastors picked up this habit from worship leaders.

Ultimately, I think it's perfectly fine to lead a corporate prayer without any sort of introduction. Jump start all you want, but at least close your eyes. The pastor I saw a few weeks ago kept his eyes open, which threw me off the prayer trail even further. At that point, I wasn't sure if he was doing a little spoken word or performance art.

Whichever one is more modern or postmodern, that is.

Question:

When you're praying with other people, how do you start your prayers?

SCLQ – The quietest, loudest video you'll ever see.

A few days ago, I wrote a post about being still.

That is the call I keep hearing from God over and over again these days. Be still. Slow down. Stop focusing on things that don't matter. Stop running around so hard and so fast.

Be still.

And then I saw this video by Blaine Hogan. Blaine is a brilliant artist, actor and author. He recently wrote a new book called Untitled. Check it out if you want to have your idea of creativity thrown for a pretty perfect loop.

A few months ago, at the Global Leadership Summit, Blaine wrote a video about what it means for us to really "be here." I thought it was amazing.

Take a look at the video and then, if you're so inclined, answer this question in the comments:

Is it ever hard for you to "be here?"

The 5 Kinds of Church Nursery Volunteers

(It's guest post Friday! Here's one from Shelle Lenssen- a wife, mom, and full-time laboratory geek.  She writes a family blog, Lenssen Acres Almana, covering humor, parenting, faith, DIY, home improvement, gardening, hunting, etc.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here's how!) 

The 5 Kinds of Church Nursery Volunteers. – By Shelle Lenssen

As a parent of a loud and energetic two-year old daughter, I am so grateful to have a clean, safe, well-staffed place to take her on Sunday mornings while my husband and I enjoy the church service. (Okay, so I dunno who I'm kidding; we'd appreciate a not-too-scary looking cell supervised by anyone other than the flying monkeys from Wizard of Oz, as long as it meant an hour and a half of toddler-free time.) Since she's been attending church nursery faithfully her whole life, we've gotten to know our friendly nursery volunteers pretty well, and they seem to fall in these five groups:

1. Parent volunteers who are there solely out of a sense of obligation.

Hey, I'm not picking on you. This category is listed first because I firmly fall here too. Sigh, you know how it happens. You take your baby down to nursery for a few months, blissfully enjoying a sermon without having to run out to deal with spit-up or an emergency diaper blowout, then one Sunday the nursery greeter casually asks if you'd ever consider volunteering as a nursery worker. You sign your name, fill out the background-check form, and take the necessary training. You dutifully show up when scheduled, but we all know you wouldn't say you were "called to this mission field." The nursery greeter called us in this particular instance, not God.

2. Grandmothers.

I love my own grandmothers very much, and I really, really love grandmas who volunteer in the church nursery. They are happy to sit and rock a crying baby or patiently read Bible stories to an easily-distracted group of toddlers. The craziness and chaos of a room full of littles doesn't seem to faze these battle-hardened child veterans who, despite being bitten and vomited upon, lovingly refer to each child as "precious lamb" or "sweet angel."

3. The newlywed couple.

They're adorable. Freshly married and still glowing, they use their hour-and-a-half church nursery shift to determine if they're ready to have a baby. They figure if they can work together to take care of someone else's kids, taking care of their own should be no problem, right? Newlywed nursery volunteers beware: My daughter is always on her very best behavior for you. It's as if she knows the continuation of her species is dependent on her actions. She'll smile bigger, laugh easier, sing more adorably, and hug you tighter than anyone else. Because she knows, oh yes, she knows what you're contemplating and she'll do everything she can to convince you having your own 24:7 child will be just as delightful as watching mine for 90 minutes on Sunday morning.

4. Enthusiastic high school or college girl.

You know this girl. She's an education or early childhood development major (or will be), and she just has a way with kids. She doesn't mind being turned into a human jungle-gym and children randomly run up to hug her. She takes the Bible songs DVD home to learn all the words and practice the hand motions and enthusiastically sings and dances with the kids during her shift. She's happy to fill in for you when you need to miss your scheduled nursery time and will sometimes pop in just to see if more help is needed. She is universally loved and appreciated. She also makes a great babysitter, so get her contact info as soon as possible so you and your spouse can plan a date night.

5. The Pastor's Wife.

This should be a given, really. If the pastor's wife isn't already the church nursery coordinator, she is one of the most scheduled volunteers. I think it's part of the unofficial job description that any pastor's wife (senior, assistant, music, youth, it doesn't matter, none are immune) must spend a minimum number of hours per year in the church nursery. When nursery attendance unexpectedly spikes one week, or there is a mass nursery-wide meltdown, all volunteers inherently understand they must grab hold of the nearest pastor's wife and trust her to guide the nursery ship through these rough waters.

Those are the five categories I know.

What types of volunteers work in your church's nursery? Have you ever volunteered in the nursery?

Thinking you're slightly smarter than Solomon.

I don't ever say that out loud. I never actually vocalize "I'm smarter than Solomon!" But here is what often runs through my mind when I am faced with a decision:

"I've got this. I don't need to get wise counsel about this. I don't need to fast or pray or wait a month to really mull over my options. I've been patient for long enough. I shouldn't talk to people who have made similar decisions in the past and get their opinion. I don't need to consult the Bible to check out what Scripture has to say about this particular crossroads. I've got this."

And then I make a bad decision.

And then I act shocked.

"What? How did that go so poorly? I'm smart. Why did I end up making such a bad decision? That is unbelievable!"

But is it really? Can I honestly acted surprised when I make bad decisions in isolation? What I'm really saying there is:

"Yes, yes I know that the man we often herald as the wisest man who ever lived blew it. Yes, yes I know that the man God himself audibly bestowed with wisdom and knowledge wrecked his life. But I'm different. I'm not going to make those kinds of mistakes. My plan in life is to be just slightly smarter than Solomon."

Maybe you're the exception though. Maybe you are smarter than Solomon. And when you saw the title of this post, you knew exactly where I was going. And instead of reading it, you spent time using words like "Qi" in sentences, even though most of us have to cheat at Words with Friends to even know words like that exist.

But if you're like me and you're not smarter than Solomon, let's promise we'll stop making so many decisions in isolation. As cliché as this word has become, and as much as it makes me think of Crock Pots, let's be in community. With people who love us enough to challenge the decisions we're making.

Unless you're smarter than that. But, again, you probably stopped reading a long time ago and missed that I was about to drop "horjemr" into a sentence like I knew what that word meant.

Stillness isn't sexy.

This summer I got empty.

I wasn't tired.

I wasn't drained.

I didn't melt down or burn out.

I got empty.

And it was awesome.

Since Stuff Christians Like started in March of 2008, things have been busy. I wrote a million words on four different blogs. I published three books. I contributed to half a dozen other books. I gave 100 different speeches across the country.

In order to do that, I had to turn my head into an idea factory. I had to train myself to see content all day. I had to learn to ask, "Is that a post right there? Is that conversation something for a book? Is that experience something for a speech?" Over and over again, I hustled and sprinted and crafted word after word, idea after idea.

And I loved it. Figuring out how to keep a blog fresh and creative is a fun challenge. Starting a new blog is fun. Writing books is fun. And with each word I wrote, I learned how to figure out new challenges. How do you write a Christian satire book and then jump shelves to the business career section? How do you write a 2 minute speech that has to be funny, insightful and complete? How do you be funny on command without being fake?

I'd throw my head at each new challenge that came along and most of them I could figure out. Some I failed, some went well, but every one had one thing in common: I would eventually figure it out.

But this summer, I decided to take a break when I went on vacation. In the past, I'd lie to myself. I'd say, "I'm an idea guy! Coming up with new ideas is how I like to relax!" Then I'd sit on a chair on the beach and scribble down new blog ideas. Or I'd read a book about self-improvement or branding or hustle. Then I'd come home from vacation and express shock that I did not return refreshed.

This year, instead of doing that, I just got empty. I stopped writing down ideas. I stopped trying to "get ahead" by deleting emails in my inbox on vacation. I didn't do anything but play with the kids on the beach and hang out with my wife. I got empty. And into that emptiness I felt like God had some space to whisper again.

Maybe I'm the only one who has a loud life, but I have my doubts. Chances are you're digesting more content than you ever have before right now. You've got books and blogs and Twitter and Facebook and a thousand other sources of information in your head. You've got family commitments and work commitments and meetings and reminders and tasks and activities and soccer for your kids and church commitments and … it's exhausting.

We spend an extra month at work more than people in past generations did. Let me repeat that.

You and I found a way to work an additional month every year. I put that stat from a Harvard economist in my book Quitter because it's terrifying.

We are busy and loud and, if we could just figure our lives out, things would be better.

That was what I thought as I sat on the beach this summer, but something was bothering me. Something wouldn't leave me alone, day after day.

I couldn't figure out the ocean.

Every day, the beach was different. The tide came up to a different place each day. High tide and low tide were never identical from one day to the next. The waves were never the same each day. The tidal pools shifted and moved each day. I tried as hard as I could to predict where to put our chairs, based on figuring out the day before, but each new day was different.

I couldn't figure out the ocean.

Standing there on the shore one afternoon, it hit me. I didn't see handwriting in the sand or God's words in the clouds, but it felt like he reminded me of something simple. I felt like he poked into my heart and said,

"You think the ocean is difficult to figure out? You think the ocean is complex? I put my breath in man. Quit trying to figure yourself out. Quit trying to figure out how life works. Just be with me."

In other words, "Be still and know that I am God."

I like action. I like motion. I like productivity and effectiveness. Stillness is not sexy to me. It is not something that comes easy to me. Emptiness is something I fight, not invite.

And yet, there it was and there it is. An invitation to be still and quiet and present to the big things that a big God is unfolding in his way at his time at his pace.

I love to write. I love to speak. I love the meager bit of talent God's given me to share with folks. But I'm learning that when I refuse to be quiet or empty, I miss so many important things. And that, ultimately, "be still" wasn't a casual suggestion. It was a command. And it's one I want to obey.

Question:

Is it ever hard for you to be still?

The guy who reads your sermon notes.

The best pen in the world is the Uniball micro vision. That's not a statement of opinion; that's a fact. And suggestions contrary to that statement will not be entertained. If you disagree, I'm sorry. You've been using an inferior pen for most of your life and are confused.

I use the Uniball micro vision for everything, including my sermon notes at church. Cause it's the best and I take the best notes. But recently I noticed something disturbing happening.

The guy next to me kept reading my notes.

I don't mean my fill in the blanks. I can accept that and should probably write a post about the best way to sneak a peek at someone's answer if you missed one.

I can accept that, but this guy was reading the personal notes I was taking down. The first time it happened, I thought, Oh, OK. Probably just checking out my penmanship. I can respect that. I took a calligraphy class in middle school because I'm pretty sure that's what all the cool kids were doing.

The second time it he did it, I thought, Maybe he wants to borrow my pen. That's clearly not happening.

The third time I thought, This is getting annoying. What if I want to write something private and personal about how the sermon is hitting me? I think this guy just became a post on Stuff Christians Like.

Which brings us to today.

Maybe this situation has never happened to you. Your penmanship might not flow like a cold mountain stream like mine does, attracting the watchful eyes of pew neighbors like bears to a salmon run. I'm not sure, but it might happen to you one day. And if it does, I want you to be ready. Here are 3 things to do if you catch someone reading your sermon notes:

1. Angle your paper.

This is the easiest move and should be employed first. Cross your leg at a weird angle and then move your paper away from your neighbor. Now if they want to look, they'll have to lean over and really work to see what you're writing down. Awkward for both of you? Definitely. Necessary? Sometimes.

2. Write crazy/small.

Jud Apatow, the director of movies like Superbad, once said that he started writing really small and really crazy because people on airplanes kept reading his notes. He didn't like the idea that strangers might see his ideas, so he taught himself how to write in an indecipherable script. Time consuming? A little. Worth it? Definitely.

3. Tolkien your notes.

The Lord of the Rings author Tolkien took the Apatow approach to new levels. He actually created his own language. It was called Elvin or Elfin or Elvish or someone will heatedly correct me in the comments section of this post. (Bonus points if the correction is in written in Elvin.) Maybe you can create your own sermon notes language. Will it take you a few years? Probably. Worth your privacy? You tell me.

Hopefully those three tricks will do the trick. But if not, there is one last ditch, desperate move you can do. If you've tried all three of the tricks above–if the person ignored your angle idea, has such great eyesight they can read your tiny script, and somehow knows how to read the secret language you created–guess what it's time for?

A prayer request.

In your notes, in large, legible font, write the following:

GOD, PLEASE JUST HELP THE PERSON NEXT TO ME JUST RESPECT MY PRIVACY AND STOP READING MY SERMON NOTES CONSTANTLY. YOU ARE A BIG GOD AND WILL SURELY HANDLE THIS SITUATION IN THE BEST POSSIBLE WAY, BUT PLEASE DON'T AUTOMATICALLY ASSUME A STRATEGICALLY PLACED LIGHTNING BOLT WON'T DO THE TRICK. IT MIGHT. IT REALLY MIGHT. AMEN.

Extreme? A little. Effective? Without a doubt.

Question:

Do you take notes during sermons?

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SCLQ – Halloween

Did you know that Christmas trees have a pagan background? I'm almost positive that's true or that I read it online, which makes it at least kind of true. Or maybe someone told me that once when we were talking about Halloween.

I'm a little fuzzy on that detail, and sometimes I get exhausted typing things into Google when they don't auto finish the words for me. But what I am clear on is the idea that the Acuff girls are going to attempt to collect their body weight in free candy come Monday night. To practice, we've been doing wind sprints in our backyard and running up and down stairs carrying sacks of granola bars.  (Even though I think I'm supposed to hate Halloween.)

What about you?

What are your plans for Halloween?

Trunk or treat at church? Neighborhood party? Dressing up as Carrie from Sex & the City (The TBS edited version of course)? Going as a character from True Blood? (That was a test. You shouldn't even know that exists.)

What are you doing for Halloween?

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Church Websites.

Last April, I wrote a post called "Pre-judging a church based on the quality of its website."

It was a confession of sorts but also a list of things I thought churches could do to make their websites instantly awesomer. (Spelling aside, not my strong suit.) I suggested things like:

1. Don't make finding your location like navigating a labyrinth. (It kills me when your actual address is hidden under 19 levels of flash graphics and searching for it is like solving a rubik's cube.)

2. Don't use that font that makes it look like the letters are on fire. (I don't know what that font is called, probably "Brimstone." It's not good.)

Months later, a would be sponsor of SCL called SiteOrganic approached me about helping churches radically simplify and improve the way they do their websites.

The question I always ask in situations like this is, "Would this service help my dad's church?"

I don't like recommending things I wouldn't use. But, since I'm not a church, my criteria for things like SiteOrganic is to think about whether my dad's church would benefit. As I've mentioned before, I grew up watching him try to make miracles out of a ridiculously small church budget. And in the last few years, I've really tried to encourage him about what it means to share the gospel online in his community of North Carolina. So I talked with SiteOrganic and here's what I liked:

1. They are passionate about helping churches maximize online ministry budgets.

2. They actually have real, live staff members who are available to talk you through any web questions you have.

3. They make it incredibly easy for your staff to take care of daily/weekly updates.

4. They're not just doing "billboard websites" that are pretty one or two-page experiences. They're doing advanced features like sermon library management, podcasting, online giving, event registration and a million other things.

5. They're geniuses at creating mobile-friendly sites and analytics and integrating with social sites and all the stuff that really matters right now in the online conversation.

So here's my pitch: If you work at a church, check out SiteOrganic. I'd recommend them to my dad and his church and feel great about recommending them to you.

And if you don't work at a church, I have one question I'd love for us to talk about today:

Question:

What's one feature you'd love to see on your church's website?