Jon Acuff's Blog, page 150

The friend who assumes you've read every one of their tweets or Facebook status updates.

The Internet has introduced lots of new people we need to be kind to. Although "love your neighbor," didn't specifically mention people you follow on Twitter or friend on Facebook, I have to assume that command was inclusive of "digital neighbors" as well.

One of the people I have the hardest time with is the "Friend who assumes you've read every one of their tweets or Facebook status updates."

I have a hard time with this person because I'm usually the one who does this to my friends. Here's what our conversations look like:

Me: I did end up seeing that movie.

Friend: What are you talking about?

Me: Remember, that movie I tweeted about? I ended up renting it. Did you agree with how I felt it ended?

Friend: I'm still not sure what you're talking about.

Me: Seriously? A week ago I tweeted: "I thought Social Network was good. Great dialogue. It felt like it didn't finish though, it just ended but that's challenge of a live story." Are you pulling my leg right now, or do you really not remember my tweet?

Friend: I've been really busy. With life. And the living of it. And not writing down each of your tweets or status updates in my diary. Plus, you tweeted 24 times during the Grammy's. You're tweets do not complete me, they completely overwhelm me.

Me: I bet Scott Baio's friends don't treat him this way.

Friend: What does that even mean?

Me: No big deal. Fine. Whatever. I guess I just thought we were friends. I thought like they say at church that we were "doing life together."

Friend: Oh stop. Don't be so dramatic.

Me: I'll get over it. I'll write something sarcastic about this whole situation in the last place you'll think to find it. Twitter or Facebook.

Friend: You know who reads all your tweets? Jesus.

Me: Did you just Jesus Juke me?

Isn't that exhausting? I think so and I'm the one who usually has these conversations if not out loud then definitely in my head when a friend reveals they haven't been keeping tracking of my life via Facebook or Twitter.

Do you have any friends like that? Who assume you follow their life like it's a live news feed or incredibly pertinent information?

The friend who assumes you've read every one of their tweets of Facebook status updates.

The Internet has introduced lots of new people we need to be kind to. Although "love your neighbor," didn't specifically mention people you follow on Twitter or friend on Facebook, I have to assume that command was inclusive of "digital neighbors" as well.

One of the people I have the hardest time with is the "Friend who assumes you've read every one of their tweets or Facebook status updates."

I have a hard time with this person because I'm usually the one who does this to my friends. Here's what our conversations look like:

Me: I did end up seeing that movie.

Friend: What are you talking about?

Me: Remember, that movie I tweeted about? I ended up renting it. Did you agree with how I felt it ended?

Friend: I'm still not sure what you're talking about.

Me: Seriously? A week ago I tweeted: "I thought Social Network was good. Great dialogue. It felt like it didn't finish though, it just ended but that's challenge of a live story." Are you pulling my leg right now, or do you really not remember my tweet?

Friend: I've been really busy. With life. And the living of it. And not writing down each of your tweets or status updates in my diary. Plus, you tweeted 24 times during the Grammy's. You're tweets do not complete me, they completely overwhelm me.

Me: I bet Scott Baio's friends don't treat him this way.

Friend: What does that even mean?

Me: No big deal. Fine. Whatever. I guess I just thought we were friends. I thought like they say at church that we were "doing life together."

Friend: Oh stop. Don't be so dramatic.

Me: I'll get over it. I'll write something sarcastic about this whole situation in the last place you'll think to find it. Twitter or Facebook.

Friend: You know who reads all your tweets? Jesus.

Me: Did you just Jesus Juke me?

Isn't that exhausting? I think so and I'm the one who usually has these conversations if not out loud then definitely in my head when a friend reveals they haven't been keeping tracking of my life via Facebook or Twitter.

Do you have any friends like that? Who assume you follow their life like it's a live news feed or incredibly pertinent information?

New article I wrote for David Platt's Secret Church

Recently, I had the opportunity to write an article for an event called Secret Church that David Platt and LifeWay are putting on April 22. He's the author of the incredibly challenging book "Radical." Take a look at what I wrote!

Flirting with the Sabbath.

A few weeks ago I took each of my daughters on a "Daddy-Daughter Date Night." I gave them each the chance to pick the destination. They both picked Chuck-e-Cheese. On Saturday night I went to Chuck-e-Cheese with my five year old McRae. On Sunday night, my seven year old L.E.

By the second night within the lair of Mr. Cheese, I started to notice something. Chuck-e-Cheese is like a casino for kids.

Loud, flashy games? Check.

Difficult to get to an exit? Check.

No clocks anywhere? Check.

Own form of money? (Tokens instead of chips.) Check.

Pandemonium when someone hits the jackpot on a game? Check.

Mediocre food? Check.

Pit boss?

OK, this one might not work, but try to cheat at Skee-ball and see if they guy wearing the mouse costume doesn't hustle you out a back exit.

Though I loved Chuck-e-Cheese as a kid, my enjoyment of it as an adult has waned. On the second night we were headed there, I started to think of ways I could get out of it. Not the date, but ways I could change the destination. Bribe L.E.? No. Find an alternative location like a bounce house with a warehouse full of inflatables? Nah. Tell her it was closed like we used to say about the ice cream shop when we didn't want to go? Nope.

I went through all my options, finally settling on a thought I'm not proud of. Here's what went through my head:

"Should I even be at Chuck-e-Cheese on the Sabbath?"

That's a silly thing to think, but it made me realize that I've got a history of "flirting with the Sabbath." Here are a few reasons it happens:

1. A pastor preaches a convicting message about our need to celebrate the Sabbath.

Anytime someone does the "celebrate the Sabbath" sermon, I sit in the pew thinking, "Yes! I am going to do that." And that lasts for about two weeks.

2. I get to the Ten Commandments during a read through the Bible study.

Celebrating the Sabbath isn't presented as a casual idea in the Bible. It's one of the Ten Commandments. I usually get convicted about that and decide to take a Sabbath. And that lasts for about two weeks.

3. I get overwhelmed with digital media.

Occasionally I get exhausted by keeping up with blogs, tweets, linked-in, Gmail, Netflix, Facebook, outlook, RSS, my iPhone, my laptop, etc. And so I morph a digital fast into taking a Sabbath. And that lasts for about two weeks.

4. I read a Henri Nouwen book and want to be quiet.

Henri Nouwen wrote some amazing stuff about how loud and busy our culture has become. In the 1980s before everything in point 3 existed. Whenever I bump into Nouwen and read one of my favorite books, The Way of the Heart, I decide to do a Sabbath. And that lasts for about two weeks.

I feel like there's a pattern developing here. And I'm not saying it's the right way. I'd love to more consistently have the Sabbath be part of my life.

Have you ever flirted with the Sabbath? I'd love to hear your ideas on it.

Unless that idea is "The Sabbath is not really a Sunday." I know. Getting berated about that always makes me not want to celebrate the Sabbath. And that lasts for about fifty weeks.

What words need to be in the Christian Dictionary?

I've long told you that I am street and/or hip hop. (Chances are, using "and/or" instantly disqualifies you from being either, but I'm not positive.)

I've bragged about my breakdancing skills, ability to dunk (8 foot hoop) and affection for Young MC lyrics. You've doubted. Well doubt no longer my friend, I've just been officially recognized by the "Urban Dictionary."

A friend recently pointed out that the SCL term "Jesus Juke" was now officially part of the Urban Dictionary online. Here's how they defined it:

"When some Christian brings Jesus into an argument or conversation out of no where. Usually creating another religious argument within the original argument or conversation."

Example:

"You just Jesus juked me, bro!"

I was hoping there was a medallion ceremony or at the bare minimum some sort of official chalice you receive or set of dubs, but alas, it is an honor that goes unacknowledged.

But it did make me think, if we were going to start a Christian dictionary, what terms would we add?

That's today's thought. Would you add "seasons" or the word "just" as a prayer condiment?

What's a bit of "Christianese" you would add to the Christian Dictionary dictionary?

Doing Crazy Things With the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue

(John Crist is quickly becoming one of my favorite guest authors on Stuff Christians Like. In the last six months he's written some hilarious guest posts and the live comedy he performs is brilliant too. Here today with a perfect addition to SCL is John's new post. Enjoy!)

Stuff Christians (guys) Like: Doing Crazy Things With the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue

Is it just me, or does every guy know that the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue comes out in February, circa Valentines Day.

Its just me? Ok…never mind. (this is awkward…)

But seriously, I polled some of my Christian guy friends, all with varying levels of relational statii (that's the plural of status), and they all had different reactions to the swimsuit issue. P.S. I saw the cover in a gas station this morning and there seems to be less and less swimsuits involved every year. The cover model's name this year is Lusty McLusterson. Weird. Anyway, here's what my friends said when I brought it up:

1. "The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue comes out in February?"

This is an obvious lie. Especially because last time I was at this guy's house he had February 15 circled in red marker on his calendar…a sports Illustrated Swimsuit Calendar. Got em.

2. "I called Sports Illustrated myself and had my Swimsuit Issue cancelled!"

You know what's weird about Christians? Everyone used to struggle with things, no one ever has any current struggles. I finally got up the nerve to tell my pastor I struggled with lust and his response was (paraphrased), "oh, yeah, I understand, I used to struggle with lust…when I was 6." Thanks pastor…that makes me feel great. The guy that calls and has his swimsuit issue cancelled probably tried to convert the customer service rep from India too. After the call, he created tracts that looked like swimsuit issues on the outside but when people open it the realize there are no scantily clad women on the Roman Road.

3. "I get the swimsuit issue so I can review the new styles so I'll know what to buy for my girlfriend."

Again, I'm skeptical of this guy. To protect his identity we'll call him Mitch. Innocent Little Mitch told me he needed to keep the Swimsuit Issue a secret from his girlfriend so the swimsuit he buys for her will be a surprise. I'm sure his girlfriend will appreciate it. How thoughtful. Right ladies?

4. "I keep the Swimsuit Issue because it reminds me to pray for the girls one by one. This way I have a face (and a body) to remember."

He's got Brooklyn Decker's photo right next to the photo of his Compassion Child. I should get this guy to help co-lead my new Bible Study.

What's your Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue policy? Have you ever run into something weird like this with a magazine you subscribed to?

(For more great stuff from John Crist and a look at his comedy, check out his youtube page!)

The lost and found Tupperware table.

For the last 10 years, I've attended modern churches. And by modern, I don't mean missional or postmodern or millennial focused or emergent or a word that hasn't even been invented yet but your friends who liked Mumford & Sons before you are already using. I just mean the churches I've attended lately have more lasers than stained glass windows. But recently I started taking a class at an old school church in Franklin, Tennessee.

The other night my wife and I got lost in the belly of it. During our journey into the depths we stumbled upon something that the North Point Community Church and Cross Point Church did not have. (I apparently only attend churches with the word "point" in their title.)

What did we find?

The lost and found Tupperware table.

A mainstay of old school churches, the lost and found Tupperware table is like the island of misfit toys from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. What happens is that after a potluck, I can't bring myself to say "pot blessing" because I've had some dishes that weren't blessings, someone will leave their Tupperware behind. (Sometimes it's on purpose because no one even took a sympathy scoop out of their dish.) Slowly it will make its way through the church until at last it comes to its final resting spot, in hopes to one day be reclaimed or taken home by another family.

When I found this table, which is the Tupperware equivalent of an elephant graveyard, I snapped a photo with a dish so wonderful I had to share it with you. Check out what this fallen Tupperware once held:

Though I've long professed my deep love for the rotund concierge of deliciousness that is the Crock Pot, I never knew we were putting candy in it! Combining crock pot and candy is such a powerful duo. That's like "Karate Mentos" or "Puppy Kittens" or "Lamborghini Pringles."

What do you think is in "Crock Pot Candy?" Clearly, this person put in peanuts, which I think is a mistake. Putting nuts in brownies and cookies to me is like putting in a handful of gravel. It's a near flavorless, mouthful of small rocks in an otherwise delightful dessert.

I feel like this should be the official food of Stuff Christians Like, like Papa John's sponsoring the Super Bowl. If you were going to make up some sort of batch of "Crock Pot Candy," what would you put in it?

Works of art.

I once went to counseling to talk about my Google Analytics.

I'm not sure if I'm the first person to talk to a professional counselor about web traffic, but the whole thing was pretty ridiculous.

Basically, when Stuff Christians Like took off in 2008, I really tangled my self worth up with how many unique visitors this blog got and how many comments each post received. I became like a gambler pulling a lever on a slot machine, only I was hitting refresh on Google Analytics.

I worked through that, but questions of self worth and identity are still brambles I stumble into from time to time. I was thinking about that last week on my way to work when I had this thought:

"Who you are, what you're worth, those are not questions Thursday will answer. That debate is over. You are God's work of art."

I tweeted that, and started to really think about what it means to be "God's work of art." That concept is based on Ephesians 2:10 which says, "For we are God's handiwork …"

I started to think, if my identity is I am God's work of art, would I get cocky in that? Would I walk around thinking, "Look at me! I'm an amazing work of art!" My ego is incredibly hungry and I often slip into arrogance. But in the middle of these thoughts, I felt like God began to laugh with me. (It's always with, never at.) Here's what I felt like he said:

"Why would you brag about being my work of art? Why would you brag about living the way you were created to live? That's how you were made. If you speak well or write well or anything well, that's you living out of who I created you to be. That's how you were designed.

That would be like a painting bragging about the strokes and lines while ignoring the painter. Or a bird bragging to a fish that it can fly. If anything, when it comes to your identity, I want you to laugh in it. I want you to love in it. I want you live in it. But above all, every day, all day, I want your identity to point back to me. To say, 'Look how good my God is! Look how good my artist is! Look!'"

Sometimes, as Christians we have this weird assumption that to celebrate your abilities and your gifts is a sin. As if quietly possessing them is holy and loudly living with them can only be an act of arrogance. But I'm not so sure anymore. They're not my gifts. I didn't give them to myself. I received them. And so did you. You are a unique work of art. You reflect an artist the world needs to know. He did not give you those gifts to hide them.

Don't look for your identity in web traffic or success at work or in relationships. Today, don't search for something that has already been found. Your identity is set. That debate is over.

Today, don't be a shy work of art. Be a loud work of art.

Realizing you're one of 7 Bible Studies at Chick-fil-A.

Recently I started meeting with a group of guys for breakfast. I did a really poor job of investing in friendships in Atlanta and I've committed to being better about that in Franklin. Since we're all Christians, when it came time to decide where we'd meet, that seemed like a no brainer, Chick-fil-A. (Or what I call it, "Chicken Church.")

But the other day, while meeting there, I was reminded of something that I had first noticed in Atlanta. We weren't the only guys there getting together to talk about God. As I looked around, it was like a youth group van had broken down in the parking lot. (Something youth group vans love to do.) Granted, my friend's mom says that buying Chick-fil-A almost feels like tithing, but I still thought it was funny that out of every early morning option for breakfast we'd all congregated there like it was the only open water hole on the Savannah.

Looking around, I realized there are 3 tips you need to know about the early morning experience at Chick-fil-A:

1. You can't swear in a Chick-fil-A.

Someone swore the other morning, and my first thought was, "Whoa! Watch it. Don't you know where you are? This is Chick-fil-A. Ease up. Save that sort of bawdy language for the Waffle House." I've long theorized about Christians and swearing, but this was a new level of weird thought, even for me.

2. You probably shouldn't try to beat the other Bible Studies to the booths.

Let's be honest, the booth is the best. If you choose a table when a booth is available I'm not sure I can trust any other decision you make in life. Sure, the Holy Spirit can show up at tables too, but it prefers booths.

3. You need to be polite to the guy collecting data.

Last week after breakfast, I had to get going to work. We all started to stand up to leave when a Chick-fil-A employee came over with a map and a survey he wanted us to fill out. My first thought was, "I've got to jet, is there any incentive for me to help? Free spicy chicken sandwich? Cow yo-yo? Etc." My second thought was, "This guy's an usher, be kind." So I was, because I was in the Bible Study breakfast capital of the world.

Hopefully those three tips will help you navigate the gastrointestinal Old Testament type of decisions. If not, here's a simple way for me to remember it:

"Starbucks is to open Mac laptops as Chick-fil-A is to open Bibles."

Am I the only one who has experienced this? Have you ever done a Bible Study at Chick-fil-A? When you've attended Bible studies or small groups, where did they meet?

Pew corks.

I need to apologize to every parent I sat next to in church when I was in college. I unfortunately didn't go that often in college, so the list is short, but I still need to make amends. Why?

I ran into the college version of me a few weeks ago at church.

Service was over and every pew started to empty out. My wife and I were three deep in the pew and started to walk toward the aisle. Suddenly we hit a immovable wall in the form of two college girls. Since you can't really shove people minutes after witnessing an amazing baptism, I peered around them to see what the problem was. And that's when I saw him.

Me.

Or rather a cooler, more put together version of me, since I was a jerk in college.

There was one guy standing in the aisle, running game on the two girls and completely traffic jamming the entire pew. I started to get frustrated at this "pew cork," the individual that bottles up the entire pew, preventing it from flowing out into the aisle. That is until I realized I used to do that same thing in college. Here's why I need to apologize:

1. I didn't know parents had kids they needed to pick up.

As a college student, that didn't even cross my mind. I had no idea that by jamming the pew and preventing you from leaving the sanctuary I was shotblocking you from getting your kids from Sunday School.

2. I should have taken my game to the lobby.

Church is over. Why couldn't I have hit on girls in the lobby and not the pew, thus offering you easy egress? I'm not sure. My bad.

3. I probably shouldn't have been using church as primarily a place to meet girls.

Maybe I shouldn't have done that, but what do you know? You're married. You don't know what it's like to try to meet people out there. You probably think like Paul I have the "gift of singlesness." Why don't you relax a little and let me say sorry already. (Is the fictional college version of me arguing with the fictional parent version of someone else right now? Complicated.)

4. I can't pretend I don't see what's going on.

Remember when they told us, "Have a nice week, see you next Sunday?" And then 800 people all got up and started walking the exact same direction? Yeah, I saw that too. I probably should have taken that as a hint that it was time to move.

I didn't mean to be a "pew cork," and bottleneck so many people in college. And I didn't mean to have a bad attitude toward this college student a few weeks ago. For all I remember, one of the girls was dressed in yellow. Probably said "hello, come sit next to me you fine fellow." That student probably just ran over there without a second to lose. And what comes next, hey …