Jon Acuff's Blog, page 131

The Christian College's Jennifer Aniston

(It's guest post Friday! Here's one from Sara Kelm from Portland, Oregon.  For more great content from Sara, check out her blog.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here's how.)

The Christian College's Jennifer Aniston – By Sara Kelm

In the late 90s, Jennifer Aniston was the ultimate popular girl. Women all over this country reverted to high school and copied her style (see: chunky layered haircut) and followed her love life, both onscreen and off. Even as she started making dubious starring role decisions (I'm talking about you, The Bounty Hunter) and got dumped by her Sexiest Man Alive husband, Aniston still sparkled like it was 1999. And even now, past age 40, Aniston is one of the popular kids.

You get any group of living human beings together and a few always rise to the top and create the popular elite. When I move into a retirement home in 50 years, I fully expect that there will be a hierarchy: the folks with the motorized scooters on the top and the jello-eaters on the bottom. Maybe there I'll finally come out on top (granted that I can hold off the dementia).

I definitely wasn't popular in high school and didn't think that would change in college. I went to a Christian university located in the Pacific Northwest, the land of coffee, rainclouds, and more coffee. The culture breeds an interesting type of popular girl who looks nothing like the stereotype found in movies (for research on the stereotypical popular girl, please watch Mean Girls and/or any Disney Channel Original Movie). But one thing is the same: she's the girl everyone loves. Other girls are dying to go on a nature hike with her, and the guys would love to have an intense theological discussion with her and then make out (or just the latter, but only if they had to chose one).

So, how to identify your Christian college's popular girl (CCPG)? Well, if she's anything like my college's, here's the checklist:

HAIR

The CCPG has long hair that 1) she cuts herself, 2) she lets air dry during early morning quiet times in the woods, and 3) was probably dreadlocks at some point.

CLOTHING

Her clothes look like they're from Urban Outfitters, but you know in your heart that grandpa sweater is from the "per pound" bin at the local thrift store. Because an actual grandpa wore it, the sweater is about 117 times cooler. On her feet, she'll sport Chacos or Toms, depending on the time of year and event (i.e., Chacos = hiking, Toms = special occasions).

FITNESS/HEALTH

The CCPG does not "work out." Still, she will be extremely fit because she rides her bicycle everywhere. Her bicycle is vintage, and she got it from a thrift store, Craigslist, or her grandma's garage for less than $30. It probably has a woven basket, constantly filled with fresh produce that she bought from the farmer's market. It's organic and local, you know. She's also vegetarian, but not vegan because that's just ridiculous (okay, that last comment may have been my personal bias coming through). Her vice is good coffee, but she only buys fair-trade or organic beans.

UPBRINGING

She is not a pastor's kid, because pastor's kids are a dime-a-dozen at a Christian college, and thus, boring. The CCPG grew up on the mission field, probably overseas, though Latin America or ministering to migrant workers in the Southern U. S. counts (Canadian missions do not). During summers, the CCPG volunteers at the nearest refugee camp. She blogs about it, highlighting amazing stories that you read while on your 15-minute break from your summer job at Target.

MAJOR/EXTRACURRICULARS

She majors in either Social Work or Philosophy, with an Art minor. The CCPG is incredibly artistic, probably in mixed media (due to its eclectic nature) or pottery (because it's just awesome). She's also musical, and plays either the bongos or the acoustic guitar in the campus worship band. Bonus points if she's also in an indie rock band with spiritual leanings.

MUSIC

The CCPG listens to indie rock or folk bands that are not overtly "Christian" but have lyrics with spiritual undertones (see the Avett Brothers, Mumford and Sons, Arcade Fire). Also on her iPod (or off-brand mp3 player): bands that no one has ever heard of and Nickel Creek.

FOR FUN

Every week on Friday night, the CCPG serves the homeless under a bridge in the roughest part of town and always invites you to come, making you feel like an awful person because you have tickets to that one thing. She doesn't judge you, though. Also in her free time, she is a vital part of the campus ultimate Frisbee team.

LOVE INTERESTS

She's not focused on finding a husband, but she unwittingly leads along half of her guy friends (because she gets along with guys so well). These men are bearded, wear thick black-rimmed glasses and flannel, and drink yerba mate tea in literature or philosophy class. They are all in love with her ability to create intense theological discussions over ice cream, but the guy the CCPG actually falls for decides he has been called to celibacy and becomes a monk. Can't blame the poor girl, though – the man has a nice beard.

SOCIAL NETWORKING

The CCPG is not on Facebook. But you know if she did, she'd instantly have friend requests from every student on campus and 80% of the faculty and staff. Also, she seems to know the first name of everyone on campus from the freshmen to the lunch ladies. She mostly hangs out with people just like her (people who choose not to wear shoes, even in the winter), but somehow, you feel like she'd be your friend too.

Here's the thing with this CCPG, this Christian college Jennifer Aniston: she really is that likeable. She really is that great. And when the entire hall of boys that you have been hanging out with for two years falls in love with her, you are annoyed but cannot blame them, which is more infuriating than anything else. You take consolation in the fact that she's going to fall for the future priest anyway.

After graduation, my college's Jennifer Aniston went to a Catholic worker house in the inner city where she feeds the poor, loves the sick, and makes absolutely zero money. She's inspiring and God-driven, much more so than the real Jennifer Aniston will ever be. I admire her. Also, I'm willing to bet money that when I see her at our 10-year reunion, she'll have the best dreadlocks I've ever seen.

Question:

Did you ever meet a Christian College Popular Girl?

(For more awesome stuff from Sara, check out her blog, sara-has-something-to-say… )

Believing the phrase "Just saying" is some magical get out of being a jerk card.

I'm not sure where this phrase started. Although I have three friends who all individually swear they were the ones who created the hybrid word "chillaxing," no one has claimed this phrase to the best of my knowledge.

Yet there it is, popping up like Canadian Geese on golf courses. (Is there a more pretentious bird on the planet, by the way?) You can't go on Facebook without seeing it. You can't go on Twitter without it dancing across the screen. Friend after friend is using it. It's practically social media punctuation at this point.

Just saying.

If you've never experienced it before, where do you live so that I can move there and experience this "Just saying-less utopia" you've discovered? I bet it's in Colorado, seems like a lot of good stuff is in Colorado these days. But here's how it works if you've never seen it wielded at the hand of a Christian:

One part snark + One part bitterness + Just saying = Complete forgiveness for whatever you've just said.

But here's why I don't like it. Here's why I've thrown my social media weight in with the People Against Just Saying Coalition (PAJSC), a group I just invented. (It's pronounced "Paj" like "Cas" from the first part of cashmere. The S and the C are silent.)

Reasons I'm against "Just saying"

1. You're not fooling anyone.

Adding a smiley emoticon at the end of a bitter sentence doesn't remove the bitterness. Neither does "Just saying." You can't Mary Poppins your way out of this with a spoonful of sugar.

2. At no point in the Bible is the phrase referenced.

I'm almost positive when we're told to love our neighbors there's not a follow-up verse that says, "Unless you've got some barb you want to throw and are able to tie it all perfectly with a 'just saying.'"

3. It sounds like something the Pharisees would say.

Speaking of the Bible, can't you see the Pharisees saying this phrase nonstop? "Jesus, you healed someone on the Sabbath, which is against ancient law. Just saying."

4. It's cowardly.

I've used this phrase before, and the reason I did was because I was being a wuss. I had something I wanted to say but still wanted to hold on to my thin veneer of holiness, so I said something mean and then ended the thought with "just saying." Or, maybe you have something legitimate that needs to be said to someone in an email. Maybe it's a tough bit of love or critique that you're afraid to give them. Instead of coming right out and saying it, you couch it in sarcasm and try to soften it with "Just saying." Don't. Let's not be cowards.

My hope is that you'll join the PAJSC and turn in the phrase "Just saying" at the convenient drop-off locations we've set up across the country. Plus, membership comes with a really soft hoodie. The kind that feels like you've owned it for 14 years and used to wear it to Kanakuk Kamps when you were a kid. So that's something.

But if you don't, if you want to keep using the phrase "Just saying," go right ahead. That's between you and God and baby Jesus. Just saying.

Question:

Have you ever seen someone use the phrase "Just saying" online?

Taking God seriously.

I've noticed something weird that sometimes happens on Stuff Christians Like. When I write about the goodness of God, some of the comments are quick to point out just the opposite. I'm not sure if it's an over reaction to prosperity ministry or just our struggle to believe in a loving God, but there's times when we Christians can't say fast enough how difficult a life with Christ is. We react to words of his love for us with as many verses about the challenge of faith that we can find. It's a strange way to react to grace and probably stems from the fact that it's too good to be true.

Grace can't be this easy. Grace can't be this available. Grace can't be this accessible.

We shouldn't get a party when we've blown it. And, yet we do, and sometimes when people discuss that, we get uncomfortable.

Those conversations, those moments, always remind me of this post, which is why I thought it might be good to talk about God and Bob Schneider again.

Bob Schneider is one of my favorite musicians on the planet. He is a songwriter of catastrophic talent and his lyrics are beautiful and challenging. He once wrote a song about God. It explored some really interesting concepts about who God is in some ways that could easily be taken as offensive. So, Bob was forced to change the lyrics and in a brilliant stroke of sarcasm explained the whole situation this way:

"We had to change one word in the song. Basically because I was just afraid we were going to offend a lot of people. Basically I'm all about the money when it comes to making records. It's cash first. It's give me the money and you know forget art, as it were, forget the original artistic integrity of the song. Just make sure that I can appeal to as many people as humanly possible so that I can make the most amount of money so that I can have the biggest, fanciest steaks and most comfortable socks to wear on my feet. So, anyways, we changed one of the words."

One of the reasons Bob had push back was that some people understandably felt the song made light of the Lord. It did not respect the seriousness of God. And I was reminded of the Bob/God incident recently by a comment someone left on this site. It was a good comment, well written and it felt very honest, but one of the lines stuck out to me:

"Children's programs that substitute for regular services do your kids the disservice of not inculcating the seriousness of God."

I confess, I had to look up "inculcating" because I'm not so smart and it means "to teach." That sentence is only one line of a much longer comment and the next line starts out with "God is joyful," so it's not that the author sees God as a monster of seriousness. But I was paused on this line because it forced me to wrestle with a question:

"Do people have a harder time seeing God as a serious entity or seeing God as a joyful, loving entity?"

I know the answer in my own life. I have never, ever struggled to see God as a serious individual. I have never doubted that when you enter His court, there are serious issues on the table and serious discussions and serious missions. In addition to writing about how I have often "painted God mad," I would say that for more than 30 years on this planet, I have been awash in the seriousness of God.

But love has been so much harder. Seeing God as someone that laughs with me and kids with me and rolls down hills of grass with me on lazy Tuesdays in June has been such a bigger challenge. Seeing Him as someone that cares about the little things that no one else notices or as someone that collects my tears in a jar, as Psalms says, has been difficult. Believing that it gives Him joy to see me writing or playing Frisbee or a million other things has been hard.

Things are changing though. In the last few years, He has been showing me that He is more flowers than thistles, more laughter than wrath, more open hand than closed fist. Is He serious? Without a doubt. Do I still feel like it's a big deal to come into His court? Certainly, only now I think it's OK to arrive there by water slide.

I'd like to close this post with a small opportunity.

I thought it might be cool to share something today. I'd love to just open up the idea of expressing who God is. To confess or laugh or shout or share or whatever you feel like doing.

I'll go first with three of my own "God is" statements:

God is serious, serious about loving me in any way possible.

God's love is ridiculous to me.

God is big enough for my anger, small enough for my whispers and strong enough for my worries.

So what do you think?

Finish this statement as many times as you want:

God is ________

The man hat.

Recently, a friend surprised me with a problem she was having at church. I'd never thought about this particular issue. I'd never once even noticed it. But here's how our conversation went:

My friend:

I really don't like all these "man hats" at church.

Me:

Man hats? What are you talking about?

My friend:

There's a lot of guys wearing "man hats" these days. Like those two guys over there. They kind of look like something out of Oliver, kind of a "Hello Guvnor" meets Urban Outfitters. Those bother me.

Me:

Cause you hate Oliver?

My friend:

No, because it feels disrespectful to me.

Me:

What? Ladies wear hats to church all the time.

My friend:

No they don't. They only wear them on Easter Sunday. But there's all these guys wearing Che Guevara revolutionary style hats and those little bowlers that you think will look good on you when you're at the store by yourself but should really only be worn by Justin Timberlake. And the winter beanie in July in Nashville makes no sense. Throw on some woolen mittens while you're at it.

Me:

Agreed. Some of those look silly, but how is a man hat disrespectful to church?

My friend:

Back in the day, when we cared about manners, it was considered disrespectful for a guy to even wear a hat indoors. Anywhere. In your house. In the airport, you didn't wear your hat indoors. I get that times have changed, but even at baseball games you take off your hat for the National Anthem as a sign of respect. So why don't guys take them off at church?

Me:

Do you want me to Jesus Juke you?

My friend:

No.

Me:

I'm going to take that as a "yes." I really wish you would focus on the joy of seeing people attend church, not worry about whether or not they're wearing hats.

My friend:

Maybe you're right. Am I becoming an old lady? Is that what happens? It's not your eyesight that goes first or your hearing, it's your ability to overlook a hat at church. Am I going to start using the word "whippersnapper" soon? Am I getting enough fiber in my diet, or will I need to start supplementing my day with Metamucil or maybe an Ensure drink? Please don't write about this conversation on Stuff Christians Like.

Me:

I won't. I promise.

Man hats. Who knew they were such a cause of distraction? And my friend did say I could write about this conversation. And that "friend" may or may not have been my wife. And that whole chat might have just been her way to keep my growing fascination with hats at bay. She doesn't hate your hat, but she's just afraid I'll go to New York sometime to do some media, shop at H&M without her, and return home with some sort of urban top hat. I'll look like Mr. Peanut in skinny jeans, and no wife wants that.

 

Question:

Have you ever seen a man hat at church?

 

 

 

Maintaining your faith while playing Words with Friends.

I didn't realize husbands were supposed to do this.

This was not part of my vows. This has never been mentioned in any marriage book I've read or counseling session I've sat in. And yet, two days ago, my wife let me know I was dropping the ball in our marriage. How?

Well, here's what she said:

"For the last seven days, it's been your turn on Words with Friends and you haven't played a move with me."

Ahh, the digital duties of a modern spouse with a smart phone.

If you've never played Words with Friends, it's an app on the iPhone and the Droid that is sort of like the board game Scrabble. And by "sort of," I mean "exactly." I have no idea how it's not a trademark infringement. It would be like taking the game "Connect Four," tweaking the colors and then releasing your own version named, "Connect more than three but less than five."

My wife loves playing it. She regularly has 6 or 7 different games going with 6 or 7 different people. And she's not alone. Millions and millions of people have downloaded the app. Most of my friends play it. Me?

Despite my love of words, I'm not a huge fan. I thought that didn't really matter, I assumed it was just a personal preference thing, until my wife said "When you're in a covenant relationship you're supposed to play Words with Friends with each other."

Those weren't her exact words, but in our silly conversation about that, I realized that most of us weren't aware of how to maintain your Christian faith while playing Words with Friends. Fortunately, I have a blog dedicated to the exploration of these tough challenges most theologians shy away from. So, without further adieu, I present to you:

The 5 commandments of Words with Friends

1. Thou shalt not covet your neighbor's words.

Just like in Scrabble, each time you play a turn, you get a collection of letters you can use to spell a word. Don't covet your neighbor's letters if they get the much-desired "blank letter" which can be used as any letter. Don't out act in envy if you find yourself without a single vowel.

2. Thou shalt not cheat.

There are four different apps that you can use to cheat on Words with Friends. One of them is called "Cheat with Words." You tell the apps what letters you have and the apps will tell you every possible word you can form. When someone used the word "Horjemr" in a game against my wife, it was clear they were cheating. No one on the planet regularly uses the word "Horjemr." Except maybe "Horjemr Smith" who only uses it to say, "I sure hate my parents for naming me Horjemr."

3. Thou shalt not strike a person who always adds "S" to your words.

The "S guy" is the worst person to play in Words with Friends. This vocabulary villain waits until you spell a brilliant word and then lazily tacks on an S to the end of it, soaking up all the points with none of the work. Scoundrel! But before you lash out, keep in mind, this is a completely fair move. Dastardly perhaps, but it's not cheating.

4. Thou shalt heed the call of "Your Move" quickly.

Your iPhone buzzed. Your Droid beeped. Your smartphone essentially said, "Hey, it's your move on Words with Friends." Do not tarry friend. Do not delay. Make your move quickly. Play your word with great haste.

5. Thou shalt not be a sore loser.

You lost. In one fell swoop your opponent got a triple letter score with a Z and tore your word kingdom asunder. Do not slander or gossip. Do not throw barbs or have a mouth of poison like the wicked. In other words, don't use the chat feature of Words with Friends to talk trash.

Immediately after writing this post, I finally played my wife back in Words with Friends. It felt like we were "doing life together." It felt like our "season" of silence was over. It felt like I played the word "Tip" for 12 points and was now beating my bride 19-12 in Words with Friends.

Questions:

Do you play Words with Friends?

What commandment would you add to this list?

What app do you use the most?

My 5 year old isn't ready for a machete.

One night, after we finished reading stories to our kids, I leaned down and started to pray with my five year old McRae. She quickly put her tiny hand over my mouth and said "Mom already prayed for me."

I'm pretty sure right before that moment I was congratulating myself on raising such amazing, Godly kids. I only have two speeds, believing I am the best parent in the world, or the worst. Those are my two go to modes. You might be different.

But one of the things my wife and I are constantly talking about is how do we get our kids involved in some of the big, amazing projects that are going on around the world. We've talked about talking them on a trip overseas with us, but most of the organizations we've talked to have said 5 and 7 is too young right now. So eliminating the option of giving my 5 year old a mission trip machete and trekking her through the jungle to a remote village, how do we find ways to give them chances to serve and learn and be inspired by giving?

That's the question that encouraged me to partner with Rice Bowls. They've got a program right now to "redefine the happy meal." As a dad who has bought a bajillion happy meals, that was curious to me. So I dug a little. Their mission is pretty simple:

1. Fuel awesomeness in kids.

2. Partner with great orphanage directors to make sure food is provided and vicious cycles are broken.

They love seeing kids help kids. Which is exactly what the Acuff family is going to do. We're taking the 10 bowl challenge. What's that?

1. You order 10 free Rice Bowls.

2. You give them to a few friends.

3. You fill them up with change.

4. You send the change back in to feed orphans around the world.

I ordered them and soon a big box of bowls will be arriving at our house. I think my kids are going to love it. It's going to start a ton of conversations for our family, shine some big light on the joy of giving and help kids in Haiti, Rwanda, India and all around the world.

I hope you'll give the 10 bowl challenge a try, but I have to warn you, the Acuff family is pretty competitive. So don't go into this thing thinking you'll beat us. Number 1, it's not a competition. Number 2, you won't beat us.

Click here to learn more about Rice Bowls.

Question:

How do you as a parent get your kids involved in giving right now?

Sword drills 2.0

(It's guest post Friday! Here's one from Some Guy, an engineer from Michigan. If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here's how.)

Sword drills 2.0 – By Some Guy

"Hold on while my Bible loads."

That's what someone said the other week in Sunday School when she was asked to read a verse. That's where we are these days with all these gadgets.

Back when I was in grade school, we ran sword drills (or Bible drills for those of you who are less hardcore) the old-fashioned way–we had to turn the pages of our printed Bibles.

I had a hardcover Bible for a while in grade school. You do not want that. That cover slows down the flippability way too much. I thought about handicapping the kids who always won the sword drills by making them use the Bibles with the hard covers.

But then came a new problem–tabs.

Kids started using Bibles with all the books marked on the sides. No more guessing where Jeremiah is. Just look and go.

Cheaters.

Now we have Bible apps. Just type in the reference, and it pops right up. It does the searching for you. You don't even need to know if Joel is in the Old Testament or New Testament. You don't need to know the difference between Jude and Job.

What's the point of competing against that?

Do not worry–those iPod/iPad people have an Achilles heel. They can still be defeated. I'll let you in on my secret, as long as you promise not to use it against me.

Hook up the voice-recognition app to the Bible software.

When everybody else is holding up their Bibles, you hold up your smartphone and start the voice recognition. As the leader says the reference, your app is already finding that verse. Then all you have to do is stand up and start reading whatever's on the screen.

I think that's about as fast as you can make it, although you can make it a little more lazy. Just have the text-to-speech app read the verse aloud for you.

Maybe that's why no one does sword drills anymore.

Did you ever do those when you were growing up?

(For more great stuff from Some Guy, check out his blog: someblogsite.com)

Coming to grips with the fact that you'll never say "Habakkuk" correctly.

I know it's probably not going to happen.

I know that at this point in my life, the chances are pretty slim. I dreamed about it so often as a seventh grader that I thought there might be a chance though. I thought maybe when I was older it would be easier, you know? Every guy wants to. You see it on TV and it looks so simple when your heroes do it but then you try it in real life and it's next to impossible. I'm starting to think that it will never happen.

I'll never dunk a basketball on a regulation ten-foot rim.

Sure, I wish I was a little bit taller. I wish I was a baller. But it's just not happening. I can't even touch the rim like I used to. I can just barely get the net and that's not impressing anybody. I look like a less athletic version of Woody Harrelson in "White Men Can't Jump." Sure, I can dunk on an 8-foot hoop. If no one is covering me. And I don't have to dribble first. But the 10-foot hoop? It's forever out of reach.

As is the correct pronunciation of the Bible chapter "Habakkuk."

Have ever said that word correctly? What was it like? Do you remember where you were? I would. That'd be a "dear diary" moment and probably make me feel as happy as Kristy from the Babysitter Club book series. (I have daughters. Quit judging me.)

Every time I hear someone say it casually I get a little jealous. A pastor named Matt Chandler did a whole sermon series on Habakkuk and it was like experiencing Michael Jordan dunk. Effortless.

I only listened to the podcast and didn't see the sermon, but I have to imagine he was even saying it behind his back and spinning through the air without breaking a sweat. He could probably dunk on Patrick Ewing while saying "Habakkuk" at the same time.

My problem is that I always forget how many k's that word has in it. Sometimes when it marches out of my mouth it comes out with like 14 k's. I just start saying, "kkkkkkk" and don't know where to end it. And then, if I get the first part of the word right, I freak out and can't remember if the last k is silent.

Is it? Do you know? Does it come to a hard stop sign k or do you drop the last one and just say "Habbakaaaaaaaaa" allowing that last syllable to dance off into the cool of the day like an antelope?

Someday, maybe in my 50s, I'll be able to do it. Maybe even in a sermon. If that happens, I'll probably just stop my message, fall to my knees and break down in tears right there next to the pulpit. No one will know what is going on, but you will. If you're in the audience, you'll turn to someone next to you and quietly say, "He just dunked. He finally dunked." And we'll all share that special moment.

Question:

Have you ever said Habakkuk correctly?

When God goes quiet.

I don't want to color my hair.

My dad is gray or white or whatever word you use to describe your hair color when it lacks color. He's not a little gray, he's super gray. In fact, a few weeks ago at Lowe's, someone turned to him and said, "Anderson Cooper!" That's just how the Acuffs get down.

And lately I've run into a few friends who haven't seen me in a while and they've all said the same two things:

You are really handsome.
Whoa gray hair.

I can't help the first one, it's both a gift and a responsibility, but the second one is in my court. I could go the "Just for Men" route. I could return to "Chestnut Brown" or "Rich Mahogany." I don't know if those are real shades but they should be. But I'm cool with it. Gray hair on a guy looks wise.

And I'm 35 now. It's not like I'm 8 with hair that's going grey because I'm that kid from the movie Powder and have the ability to heal deer. I'm in the middle of my quarter life moment. (I'm aiming for 140 years.) One thing I've learned as I've gained more gray hair and a few more years and a considerable amount of v-neck t-shirts is that God loves to whisper.

I used to only hear him in the lightning bolt moments. I wanted the emotional high of a church retreat. I wanted a big neon God that thundered across the sky with his might to let me know he was there. And if I didn't have that kind of moment all the time, if I had a big moment on a mission trip and then came back to quiet moments in the real world, I felt like maybe God had disappeared.

That's not to say that he doesn't blow up life in big and loud ways. But in my heart, unless that was how he was rolling, I didn't think he was around.

Lately though, he keeps whispering. In weird, unexpected, creative ways. And for the first time in my life I feel like the whispers are getting through.

My life is pretty loud right now. I bet yours is too. You've got an iPhone that won't stop humming. A college term paper or a project at work that needs your attention. Family obligations. Soccer practice for your kids. Gymnastics for your daughter. A blog to update. A Twitter feed. A job with a boss who throws things on your desk like those bosses from movies in the 1980s and actually says, "I need this by 8AM tomorrow Johnson!" Even if your name isn't Johnson. You've got to run errands and pick up prescriptions and return phone calls to friends and close out the summer at the neighborhood pool before it shuts down for another 6 months.

You're busy. And I'm busy and often that means we're loud. So what do you do when you need to get someone's attention in a loud environment? You get louder. You raise your voice over the room and "out loud" everyone until you get the attention of whomever you're talking to. But not God.

Sometimes when life is loudest, he gets really quiet.

And we think he's gone. That's he's left our side. He's moved on. He's far away. But often, he's just whispering. He's saying loud things quietly. He's whispering above the fray.

That's what he did to Elijah. First there was a powerful wind. And God wasn't in it. Then an earthquake. And God wasn't in it. Then a fire. And God wasn't in it. At last we're told in 1 Kings 19:12, "there came a gentle whisper." And that's where God was. He brought thunder and lightning and power and might and then pulled the rug from under his prophet and said, "I'm the whisper."

That's what it felt like he did to me the other night too.

It was date night at Acuff house. I usually take my daughters out individually but with my wife gone for the night, I took them both out to dinner. The place we wanted to go was closed and we ended up in an Irish Pub in downtown Franklin, TN. It's not really a pub, but that last sentence felt more dramatic saying it that way. It's more of a small Irish restaurant/pub. See, the slash nearly killed the drama I was carefully building.

The conversation that night with my 5-year-old McRae and my 7 year old L.E. was incredible and I'll be writing about it more down the road. But in the middle of the meal, L.E. said something really unexpected. Here's what she said:

Christ be with me,

Christ within me,

Christ behind me,

Christ before me,

Christ beside me,

Christ to win me,

Christ to comfort and restore me.

At first I thought, "I've done an awesome job raising holy kids." But then I realized around the small restaurant, where crown molding would have gone, was written a prayer by St. Patrick. I asked L.E. if she knew what it meant and she looked at me without missing a beat and said, "Christ is everywhere."

The night moved on and I didn't think about that moment until I was on a plane the next day headed to Daytona Beach to speak at BigStuf Camps. Life is loud right now, in some really great ways. The Quitter Conference is this Saturday and that has been one of the hardest things I've ever written. I get to go to Dallas and speak at the Echo Conference on Wednesday. I'm getting to do some fun things that are so far beyond my ability that it's comical. But sitting on that plane, I felt like God reminded me of what it's like for a seven year old to whisper a prayer we all need to hear. To say a prayer over our family, over every one sitting at that restaurant, maybe everyone in Franklin. To be reminded in a small, wisp of a moment of time, that he's everywhere.

He's got this.

He's not gone.

He's whispering.

And he loves me and you enough to remind us of that over and over again, if we'll only listen.

Question:

Does God feel loud in your life, or quiet?

Realizing you're the person who sits in the same place each Sunday.

How did this happen?

How did life end up like this?

I mean, I was never a "pew gypsy," one of those church attendees who can float about the sanctuary sitting in a different section every week. I never bounced from balcony to front row and back again with never a care in the world, but it was never this bad.

I never had to sit in the same exact seat, week after week after week. I never secretly harbored "aisle envy," if some visitors dared sit in our seats one week. I never asked people to "scoot to the middle" in a specific row even though the rest of the sanctuary had plenty of seats. That's the church equivalent of sitting right in front of someone in an empty movie theater.

I was an "at peace with whatever seat I got" kind of dad. I'd never drag my kids through the halls as fast as I could toward Sunday School, making sure their little feet didn't slow me down on my way to my rightful spot at church. Sure, it takes approximately 48% longer to get them ready on Sunday mornings, but I assume that's the devil and plan ahead. If I have to sit a few rows away from my normal spot, no big deal.

But last Sunday, something crazy happened in church – my wife kept walking when we got into the sanctuary. She blew right by our regular sitting area. I immediately said, "Where are you going?" Her response? "I hate where we normally sit." What? Where was this coming from? You think you know someone. What had come over my bride? We'd been attending Cross Point for a year and she never mentioned it. We'll probably need to "unpack" that with a counselor.

She kept going, further down the main aisle, getting closer and closer to the stage. Then she did the unthinkable and took a sharp right turn! Let me be clear about something, we're not right side people, we're middle row people. We look directly at the stage, from the middle, dead on, the way God intended it. I'm pretty sure that's in the Old Testament somewhere.

But instead, we sat on the third row, far right. I turned back and looked wistfully at where I spent the last year sitting. Farewell old friend. I'm now apparently the kind of person that looks at the side of the pastor. From an angle. Off in the shadows. As if you can really even call that seat "church."

And then it hit me. I'm the person who has to sit in the same place at church each Sunday.

How about you? Are you a pew gypsy or do you find a seat and then hold it down each week til death do you part?