Jon Acuff's Blog, page 156

Thinking every other Christian but you has it all together.

I didn't cry when I got back in the car with my mother-in-law, but it was only because I didn't want to miss my flight. Plus, when flying out of Atlanta, it's always best to save your tears for the airport. It will break you. It's a mashup of Mad Max's terrordome, the Lord of the Flies and flights that run at ish time. As in "you'll fly out at 4-ish," or "Your plane isn't here yet but should be soon-ish."

But that day I wasn't sad about the airport. Prior to getting in the car with my mother-in-law I had spent two hours inside an advertising agency trying to get a job. My wife and I lived outside of Boston in Arlington, Massachusetts but we wanted to move to Georgia. We'd had our first daughter, the snow was killing my Florida-born, Georgia-raised wife and it was time to move closer to family.

I couldn't find a job though.

On my first flight down to have breakfast with a friend's contact, the person I met with refused to accept a copy of my resume. The entire purpose of the trip was to meet this person and in our unexpectedly terse breakfast meeting he said, "I don't know anyone in Atlanta in advertising and no, I don't want a copy of your resume."

That meeting was not particularly awesome but, he actually did know someone in Atlanta in advertising. His relative worked at an ad agency and over a period of weeks, I arranged a meeting with her.

I spent days and days putting together my portfolio, a copywriter's toolkit to showcase the best work they've done. I was really proud of it and showed up bright and early at the meeting at the agency. This wasn't an interview though. Nobody in Atlanta would see me for an interview. I spent that day driving around Atlanta with my mother-in-law who lived there, dropping off resumes and mini portfolios at any agency I could find.

So although I had flown down for the sole purpose of meeting this contact at an ad agency, this was not something formal or promising. I was desperate at this point and greatly appreciated the 20 casual minutes she gave me talking about what it was like to work in advertising in Atlanta.

On the way out, she walked me by someone's office and said, "You should meet Mark." Turns out Mark was an Atlanta advertising expert. He taught at the Portfolio Center, a two-year advertising master's program. Mark invited me into his office and we ended up talking for an hour. He asked to see my portfolio, the one I had killed myself to put together. I thought inside, "Here comes my big break!"

By page two though, he was shaking his head in disappointment. I don't remember if he finished looking at the entire thing or not because my head started to spin and I thought I was going to throw up. What I do remember is that he took out two other portfolios. A good one and a bad one. He showed me what a writer's portfolio should look like and it was nothing like mine. I don't think I was even close to his bad example at that point. Six years into my career and my portfolio was pitiful.

At that point, I just wanted to throw out a smoke bomb, slide out of my seat to the floor and crawl for the exit and my mother in law who was waiting patiently in the parking lot. But the moment wasn't over. Mark called the admin in and asked for the box of portfolios from people who had submitted them to this agency. It was the size of a coffin for a pony. He then said, "Sit at an empty desk and go through these. See what you can learn."

In the middle of an office I'd never been in, without cubicle walls, I sat at someone's seat who was out to lunch and started to leaf through dozens of portfolios from people who were better than me. It was meant as a lesson, and Mark was incredibly kind to me that day, but the words I heard where probably not the words he intended. Flipping through those portfolios, here is the message I got.

"You're not a real writer."

"These people, these portfolios, these are real writers."

"They've got it all together. You don't. They went to graduate school for two years. You hacked together a portfolio in your kitchen and then flew a thousand miles for a 20 minute conversation? You're not a real writer."

That phrase, "real writer" is a curious one to me because I think it translates across so much more than just our careers. I think sometimes, if we're not careful, we can start to hear it in our faith.

I've felt that in the last couple weeks as I've wrestled with the anxiety and opportunity of writing my next book. I feel stressed about it and tangled up with fear and worry and happiness and hope and a potpourri of emotions. And into that I hear the siren's call that tells me,

"If you were a real Christian, you wouldn't ever doubt."

"If you were a real Christian, you wouldn't feel this way."

"If you were a real Christian, you wouldn't keep making the same mistakes over and over again even though you try your hardest not to."

Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever looked at another Christian and thought, "That person has it all together. They have it all figured out. They'd never feel like I do right now or stumble like me. That person is a real Christian. I'm some sort of counterfeit."

I can't imagine I am the only one who has ever wrestled with that. So for you and me, I want to remind of something.

Real Christians struggle with doubt.

Real Christians feel sad and even mourn.

Real Christians don't have all the answers.

Real Christians make mistakes.

Real Christians need grace, constantly.

Above all, I think "Real Christian" is actually a fake term. It's a phrase the devil constructed to keep us searching and striving and dying to achieve a label the Lord doesn't even use.

What does He call us? What phrase or words does he give us instead of "Real Christian?"

Son.

Daughter.

And it turns out, those two words are enough.

#8 in 2010: Twitter.

Last August, I put together the 32 things every Christian needs to remember about Twitter. I might add some new ones to this at some point, but I still think these are all true. Especially #11.

Twitter.

Last week, Rick Warren tweeted something that got people all fired up.

I didn't see the original tweet at first but based on the reaction, I thought he had said,

"I stole the idea for 'Purpose Driven Life' from an episode of Saved by the Bell where Zack realizes his band Zack Attack is not his purpose"

Turns out that wasn't what he tweeted. It was a lot less inflammatory than that. In fact, I think if he had yelled the same thing he tweeted from a conference stage, we all would have seen it as a challenge and at worst done a "Oh no you didn't!" reminiscent of Gina from the show, "Martin."

A day after that, Carlos Whittaker, who currently writes 27% of all Christian tweets, announced he was quitting twitter. Fortunately, cause Carlos is one of my favorite people on twitter, he was just kidding but people still got a little stirred up. Then, I got some hate mail for challenging pastor Matt Chandler to a dance off.

It was a perfect storm of twitter and it made me realize we needed a "Christian twitter handbook." Some document we could refer to and dissect and disagree with but in the process at least discuss this communication medium.

So today, that's what I did. I'm not a Twitter expert, but these are the things I've learned on the mean streets of Twitter in the last year. (Each headline is the length of a tweet with a longer explanation under it if necessary.)

Christian Twitter Guidelines

1. Beware "the boy who cried retweet." If you retweet everyone, you might as well retweet no one.

2. A photo online is forever. Don't tweet a picture unless you're ready for it to exist forever online.

3. If their Twitter profile lists "tickle fights" and "wearing bikinis" as their hobbies, they're not real.

4. Complaining that someone you follow "tweets too much," is the peak of Twitter selfishness.

What you're saying is, "I know you have 200 followers, but I feel like you should have checked with me on the number of tweets I tolerate a day. It's 7. And you just tweeted your eighth time of the day."

5. If you're a pastor, you are contractually obligated to tweet how hott your wife is or that you married up or out of your league.

6. When you write a rude tweet to tell someone they were rude, you create such a forcefield of irony it makes Alanis Morissette's teeth hurt

7. Worrying about someone hating you is like chasing down a car that gave you the middle finger on the highway. Let it go.

8. Don't make grand claims you won't fulfill. I once promised to tweet through a section of the Bible. I didn't. Epic fail on me.

9. Always, always double check that you're sending a private direct message not a public tweet. Switching the two is not so awesome.

10. If a tweet gets retweeted a bunch, avoid the temptation to write 47 versions of that tweet. Quit tweeting a dead horse.

11. "Do what you love and you will find someone who loves the same thing; don't look for love. Don't beg for love, or suffer for love."

You know who write that positive message? Snooki from the Jersey Shore show on MTV. Everyone and their grandmother tweets affirmations. Be careful that your amount of positive messages don't make other people feel negative. I'm not above writing the odd positive tweet myself, but when you rainbow it all day, it can feel fake.

12. Don't tweet holier than you normally talk. Don't get seminary mouth all of the sudden when you get on Twitter.

13. Asking for a retweet is a bad way to first introduce yourself to someone. Make friends, not favors on twitter.

14. A smiley face is twitter's version of "bless her heart." You can't tweet a jerk statement and then think ending it with a erases it.

15. If you're married, you have 2 options for your photo: you kissing your spouse or a photo from your wedding.

16. Keep your name short. Your email address might be "GodismykingIpraisehiminthemorning777" but that's too long to retweet.

17. Twitter has a 2 to 1 sarcasm ratio. For every 2 people who get your sarcasm, 1 person will take you seriously and think you're a jerk.

18. Sending a link is like sending a piece of your reputation, send it carefully.

19. Don't be 2 different people on twitter. Tweet the way you live. If you wouldn't say something flirty in "real life," don't on Twitter.

20. Twitter is tone deaf. Be hyper careful about trying to speak subtly on Twitter. Words can be misinterpreted very, very easily.

21. Don't become a "Christian Provocateur." That's great your church is doing a sermon on sex. Just don't create fake sexy tweets for "buzz"

22. Focus on tweeting something vital, not something viral.

23. Don't "twudge," which is just twitter's version of judging someone's entire soul based on a 140-character tweet.

24. Don't create silly words using the tw prefix. That goes for me too, "twudge?" Good grief! It's so tempting though or twempting.

25. Don't mistake number of followers on twitter for success on twitter. Measure quality of interactions not quantity of interactions.

26. Twitter is just a medium. Don't fall so deeply in love that you think it won't disappear or evolve like every other medium.

27. Resist the temptation to "turn on a speaker" during a conference. Public tweets are great for compliments, but bad for criticism.

I've seen this happen with hashtags, the way people can collectively see tweets about a certain subject. As a speaker, I love feedback from people in the crowd about what I'm talking about. But I think you should email or direct message your criticism and publically tweet your compliments. The ability to sway a crowd into a negative space is pretty massive. And let's be honest, if during the middle of a conference speech you verbally screamed out, "That last point was whack!" your friends would sit somewhere else.

28. There needs to be some international sign that means, "I'm tweeting lines from the sermon during church."

Right now, people think you're playing Angry Birds if you use your iPhone during church. Until we have that sign, just do what I do and yell, "I'm tweeting the sermon!"

29. Look at a whole web page before you send a link to one thing you like on it.

A number of times I'll be about to use twitpic and realize there's a half naked photo for American Apparel on the page that is hosting the photo. I use the direct link option on image shack. You can't be held accountable for the whole web, but be careful.

30. Twitter time is different from real time. Responding to a tweet from last week is like referencing the 1840s. Stay current or stay quiet

31. Unfortunately, 140 characters will not allow you to use a Christian email signature like, "In his grip," in each tweet.

32. Be careful about sending someone an automatic direct message when they follow you. I've never had a good experience with one of those.

Do you use twitter?

If so, comment with your name so we can all follow you. (You can follow me @jonacuff)

Or, help me finish this list. It's woefully incomplete and I am sure you have some solid ideas.

What is a twitter guideline you would suggest?

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Raising kids who get the Bible stories all crazy.

A few years ago, when we lived in Atlanta, my oldest daughter said something about a Bible story that caught me off guard.

We were driving down the highway, something you do in Atlanta 47% of the time you live there, and she started singing a Bible song. "Oh," I thought, "a Bible song. That's adorable. I'm pretty sure an angel gets a skateboard when a four year old sings a Bible song."

Then she started in on a new song and I knew I was a horrible parent. Here is what she sang,

"IKEA was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he."

Oh Sneigletrun! (That's a swear in Swedish or it's the name of a lamp at IKEA, hard to be certain.) Instead of saying "Zacchaeus," my daughter was substituting in the ultra modern, ultra cheap furniture manufacturer. It makes sense though. IKEA has cinnamon rolls the size of a Frisbee. Church has goldfish. To a four year old who based her opinion on quality of treats, it's easy to see why she got the lyrics wrong.

Fast forward to last Sunday. L.E. is reading the Chronicles of Narnia and tells me about the witch offering someone an apple. Feeling like I'm a way better parent now and we've moved beyond the "IKEA Syndrome," I ask my kids what other story they know about that involves an apple. McRae, my 5 year old instantly yells, "I know! I know!"

I think, "Perfect, we're about to talk about Adam and Eve and the book of Genesis!" I ask McRae, "What other story has an apple in it?"

She smiles and replies, "Snow white."

Tell me I'm not the most horrible Christian parent ever. Has something like that ever happened to you?

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Precisely predicting the end of the world.

I have a confession. And it is a little embarrassing.

In 1999, in the weeks before the feared collapse of all technology and the possible zombie colonization of America, I bought a few gallons of water. I didn't think the world was going to end, but for some reason I was pretty sure that I needed 14 gallons of water in my parent's basement.

I'm not sure that would have been long enough to survive on after civilization's collapse but I could have at least used it to walk to a major city with my son, in search of my wife who may have become part of the undead masses. I think my life just merged with a graphic novel/television show since I don't have a son, but I did buy those waters out of fear.

I blame the Y2K gun show I attended as a people watching adventure. It was in Alabama and people were saying things like, "When the banks collapse, bullets will be currency." I considered getting a book on curing your own squirrel jerky, but instead bought a t-shirt that said, "Suburban Self-Reliance, if you can't get out, you better get ready." Awesome.

So when I recently saw a billboard that advertised the coming apocalypse, my old feelings of water storage were stirred up. I'm not sure if you have these billboards in your state, but here is what they say:

"HE is coming again! May 21, 2011."

There are a few things I think about this:

1. The 7th grade version of me would have been terrified.

13-year-old Jon Acuff would have been horrified to hear this news. Not so much because of the end of the world but because I wanted to get married before Jesus came back and well… I talked about this in the first chapter of the Stuff Christians Like book. It's embarrassing, but in the 7th grade I had a few things I wanted to accomplish before the return of Christ.

2. The dead birds falling from the sky can't have helped.

I recently read an article by a biologist who said mass deaths by certain species are very common, but often go unnoticed by the media. Doesn't matter. The bird deaths reported recently are definitely going to add fuel to an end of the world fire.

3. Wasn't the end of the world predicted when I was in high school?

I distinctly remember seeing a poster with a red cross on a telephone pole proclaiming the end of the world. (When I was in high school in 1992, hanging things on telephone poles was our version of the Internet.) I sat in class, probably thinking about the immense talent of Gerardo, which was clearly displayed in "Rico Suave," and how much I loved shopping at the Chess King.

4. Does it say May 21, 2011 in the Bible?

I've read the Bible completely through and never saw it explicitly mentioned. It's possible it was in a genealogy list that I "scripture skimmed," but I feel like I would have seen that.

5. Doesn't it say we won't know when the end times are in the Bible?

Matthew 24:36 say, "But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father." And that wasn't a disciple saying that, that was Jesus. We're talking red letters. Maybe the Message version of the Bible says, "but only the Father and certain billboards on 65 North outside of Nashville," but I doubt it.

6. Is anyone going to let California know?

I have no fear that these warnings are spread across the southern states, but is anyone going to tell California what's happening on May 21? Mike Foster lives there. Carlos Whittaker visits often. There might not be as many churches there, but if Tennessee is part of the Bible Belt, I consider California to be the Bible Sunglasses. Somebody better give California a heads up.

7. Are we trying to beat the Mayans?

Isn't there a Mayan calendar from days gone by that predicts the end of the world in 2012? I know there's a stunning film, a work of art captured in two hours of perfection that makes "Citizen Kane" and "Gone with the Wind" look like drivel, but isn't there a Mayan calendar prediction? Are we racing that?

Those are the seven, exact things that go through my mind in the split second when I drive by those billboards. Then my wife says, "Are you writing a post in your head right now?" And I say, "That's crazy talk! I love you. You're so pretty!"

Am I the only one who has seen this billboard? Are they in your town too? Am I the only one who deep, deep down inside with 2% of myself thinks, "what if they're right?"

What's your take?

Is the world ending on May 21, 2011?

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#9 in 2010: Loving or Hating Glee.

I've still never seen a whole episode of Glee. Not because I don't like the show, but more that I'm waiting for them to do an Emilio Estevez themed episode. I feel like 87% of all celebrities have been on that show at this point. But folks love that show. Or they hate it, it's definitely one of those. Here is the number #9 most popular post on Stuff Christians Like from 2010.

Loving or Hating Glee.

As the nights turn cold and the days grow short, I can't help but think of one thing. As leaves burst with color and wood fire places light across the Tennessee hills I find myself in, there is one thought that I can't shake. As the season and sunsets turn into a kind of Thomas Kinkade/Yankee Candle mashup worthy of Double Rainbow strength awe and wonder, one thought is bursting across the landscape of my heart and soul …

It's almost time to break out Mariah Carey's Merry Christmas album.

Easily the greatest Christmas album of all time, Merry Christmas is a steady jam of the best holiday songs ever. From the ridiculously awesome "All I want for Christmas is you," to the gospel choir backed, "Jesus, Oh What a Wonderful Child," the whole album is a mistletoe flavored cotton candy explosion of perfection. And there's a part two being released this year. (She should title it either, "Merry Christmas II, the revenge," or "Son of Merry Christmas." You can have those for free Mariah!)

But when I tweeted about the album recently I was surprised how the responses only came in two varieties.

Some people loved it.

Some people hated it.

There was absolutely no middle ground. No one "kind of liked" it. You either passionately recognized it as the gift to humanity it is or you blindly missed how wonderful it is.

And the same thing is happening with Christians and the show "Glee."

If you've never seen it, heard about it, been shamed by a friend who is mad you're not watching it or "Modern Family," then let me quickly describe it. Glee is a comedy/drama/musical centered on a glee club at a high school. Despite leaning heavily on "theme episodes," they often tackle tough social issues in some surprising ways. It's blown up in the last year. So much so, that bands who initially refused to let them use their music have come around. When I tweeted that Coldplay said no to Glee, people told me that was because Coldplay had too much "integrity." Then the ratings exploded and Coldplay apologized to Glee and asked them to use their music.

But what I keep noticing is that there are two popular Christian reactions to Glee:

1. You've got to watch it!

In church on Sunday a friend described to me some of the Christian undertones and discussion that often peppers the script of Glee. Then someone else tweeted me and implored me to not only watch it, but write about it. "It's awesome! You would be crazy not to be watching it!" That's what some people tell me.

2. I can only assume that satan is the executive producer of Glee.

Worst show ever. In addition to butchering Journey songs, they're pushing a really horrible agenda on us. It's garbage. I would sooner slow dance with the Golden Compass or share a sleeping bag with a bunch of Harry Potter books. I hate that show and all Christians should.

There's no middle ground. You hate it or you love it. Or so it would appear. I've not watched a whole season and don't have a firm opinion on Glee. (I don't love it as much as I love the new music from Mumford and Sons for instance or Alpha Rev.)

How about you though?

Do you watch Glee?

What's your take?

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What are you reading?

One of my goals this year is to finish at least one book a month. Notice that I did not say "read." I often read one or two chapters of a book and quit. This happens because I get bored, distracted by a different book, it's a 20 page idea that got stretched into 240 pages, I look up something on my iPhone and never come back or I end up thinking about building a fort instead. I tend to have the attention span of a pomeranian who has drunk the contents of a hummingbird feeder.

This year is going to be different. This year, I'm finishing books.

So what are you reading right now that you'd recommend is "worth finishing?"

And what makes a book worth finishing? Non-fiction or fiction?

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Top 10 SCL Posts of 2010

Recently, I saw Tony Morgan do a great countdown of his top ten posts of the year. I loved that idea. And it was a really full year at SCL. We published two books, raised more than $30,000 in 24 hours for malaria nets (update on project next week!), and gave away a 66 pound box of awesome. (Big thank you to sponsors like Samaritan's Purse, Scorely and many others.)

It seemed like a shame to not pick out the ten best posts after going from #680 to #927.

So I went through the last year using a potpourri of traffic numbers, number of comments and general sense of "that was fun" to pick out the top ten. Some you might have seen, some you might have missed. Here is post #10 from 2010. (I'll post one each day, in addition to new SCL.)

#10 –  Reacting to Anne Rice

Christian blogging law requires that you write a post about what world famous author Anne Rice recently said about Christianity.

I wasn't going to, but Cornelius, the white dove who brings me official Christian blogging rules, made it pretty clear I had little choice.

So what did Anne Rice, who wrote about vampires long before it was all twilighty and cool, say? Here is what she posted on Facebook:

"For those who care, and I understand if you don't: Today I quit being a Christian. I'm out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being "Christian" or to being part of Christianity. It's simply impossible for me to "belong" to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I've tried. I've failed. I'm an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else.

As I said below, I quit being a Christian. I'm out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen."

Yowsa! I'm not sure she could have received more heat if she had said, "My next book is going to be about Harry Potter using a Golden Compass to figure out the DaVinci Code." (Anyone else notice that she used 7 "anti" statements, the most Christiany number of all. Coincidence?)

But nonetheless, in addition to the heat, I heard these 3 reactions:

1. Wait, what? Anne Rice is a Christian?

I would say surprise was probably the biggest reaction I heard. Finding out Anne Rice considered herself a Christian was a shock to a lot of people. It reminded me of a satirical headline I once read on the Onion that said, "Listerine invents, cures gingivitis." I felt like news headlines about this story should have read, "Anne Rice is a Christian, now not a Christian." A lot of people who read the Rice comments felt like they were being punked by Mr. Demi Moore. (And how powerful is Ashton that a show cancelled five years ago is still in our cultural vernacular? No one ever says, "Aww man, I got cop rocked.")

2. Christian Democrats continue to get no love.

If a famous Christian came out in a major way on a site more popular than Google and said, "If you are a Christian, you have to be a Republican," folks would get fired up. So why weren't more people upset that Anne Rice said, "I refuse to be Anti-Democrat?" For certain, one need only look to the comments on last week's SCL post that discussed politics to see what she's talking about, but to say you have to renounce Christianity to be a Democrat seems as extreme of a stance as the girls who said they couldn't date me in college because they were dating God. All I wanted was a blooming onion from The Outback, I'm not sure we needed Yahweh involved in that.

3. Christian is just a label.

Donald Miller wrote a great piece that touched on this point. And it's true, Christian is a label referenced in the Bible, but not by Christ. It's just a label. But so is "no longer a Christian." So is "retired Christian" or "outsider." They might be different than "Christian" and carry less of the stigma from some of the whackness of Christianity in the past, but anytime humans are involved, particularly broken humans, some degree of nonsense is bound to occur.

I ultimately thought that Anne opened up some great dialog on her facebook page and a good conversation ensued. I even read her first Jesus book and really liked it. The thing that stung the most in her post though was the statement that she refused to be "anti-life." Maybe that was meant to say, "anti-war," although none of her other statements were vague. She specified "artificial birth control," so I can't imagine "life" was supposed to translate into "war." But what's tough about that isn't Anne Rice specifically, it's that people think that.

The second half of John 10:10 finds Christ saying, "I have come that they may have life and have it to the full." As Christians, as followers of Christ, as outsiders committed to Christ, we are called to have life. Big life. And regardless of what you think about labels, I hate to think that our faith has become associated with the antithesis of life.

What do you think?

Have you ever had mixed emotions about the label "Christian?"

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Comparing our situations to Job.

(I'm doing a chronological read through the Bible plan right now and we're in Job. So when I got this guest post from John Crist, it felt like perfect timing. Someday I hope to share the stage with this guy. Why? So I can take notes and learn. He's a hilarious writer, a tremendous guest poster as exhibited last month and a great comedian. Hope you dig the post as much as I did!)

It's hard to meet girls in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

If New York City is the City That Never Sleeps, Colorado Springs is the city that gets eight hours of sleep on a tempurpedic mattress…and a pillow with extra lumbar support.

So when you do find a girl in church that's everything you've ever dreamed of, you gotta make a good first impression. That's why I lead with the perfect question:

"What's your stance on premarital spooning?"

Yep, that was my intro line. That got me a first date.

On our second date, or as Christians like to call it 'getting engaged', I went to pick her up at her house. She opened the door and I said confidently, "Baby, Let's go to Jared's." she freaked out and started calling all her friends in the familiar "He. Went. To. Jared's!" tone.

Not gonna lie, she was pretty upset when we pulled into subway.

She dumped me after I told her my five-year plan was to Eat Fresh.

I found myself sitting on the curb outside of Subway, single, lonely and heartbroken. And you know what I did next? I made an even bigger mistake. A mistake that undoubtedly ever Christian has made.

I started to compare my situation to Job.

Let's get one thing clear. Job lost all his family, his house, his livestock, his wealth and his own health. My girlfriend of two weeks dumped me. Those are not comparable situations.

Job is one of the saints of our faith. He sits right next to Jesus when the secretary brings in the prayer requests everyday. (The secretary is probably Esther, we all know she's confrontational and she demands to be called an administrative assistant, not a secretary). I digress. When Jesus shows Job these types of prayer requests, he probably just laughs.

Also, as Christians, let's remember…we're gonna meet this guy Job one day. Are you gonna introduce yourself and say, "Hey, your story really encouraged me when I picked up some coffee, drove ALL THE WAY HOME and realized it was a single pump, not double. I was crushed, I read your story and felt better." I hope not.

For me, the breakup has been hard. Sometimes I feel like there's only one set of footprints in the sand.

But I think some good can come of it. Please help me and call out your Christian brothers and sisters when you hear any variation of the following sentences:

"My flight was delayed for 20 MINUTES!!! I totally understand what Job was going through."

"They could only give me store credit and not a refund, I instantly thought of Job."

"After I got a flat tire last week and had to wait for AAA for 30 minutes, I read the book of Job with a new sense of understanding now."

As for me and the girl, you ask? We eventually worked through it. I just sent her grandparents a save the date…to when the new meatball sub comes out.

They're Italian. I figured they'd like to know.

(John Crist is a standup comedian. Visit his YouTube page.)

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Editing someone's prayer, mid prayer.

Last night, my 7-year-old yelled something from her bed that I've never heard before.

Her favorite thing to say is "I can't fall asleep," approximately 19 seconds after we've put her to bed. She also likes the classics, "I need a drink," "it's too dark in here," and "it's too bright in here." I have no proof of this, but I think some nights she just tries to break her own personal record for number of times my wife and I will come up to hear her case. Last night's statement, was a new one though. Here's what went down:

L.E. yells down, "Mom, I need you."

Me, expecting the water trick: "What do you need L.E.?"

L.E.: "I can't stop thinking that my American Girl Dolls are going to come alive."

She didn't yell that in a "Wouldn't that be awesome if they came alive like Pinocchio?" kind of way. It was more in a "I can't stop thinking that my American Girl Dolls are going to come alive and eat me," kind of way.

That, is at last, a legit concern.

If you're not familiar with the American Girl Doll, and I wasn't until the purchase of said doll threatened to bankrupt our family, they come in two varieties, "Historical," and "So 3000 and 8." Those are not the official terms, but you get the point. The historical ones are from different periods in time, which is the route our family chose.

The dolls are great, but every now and then, the American Girl Doll company will decide to "Archive" one of the historical girls, or as I like to say, "murder her." This isn't like the Disney Vault, where they put a movie in and then bring it back out years later. Once you're archived, it's over. It's like an American Girl Doll mob hit. You no longer cease to exist. You've been removed from the Matrix.

I think L.E. is nervous because she's sleeping next to Kirsten, a blonde haired Swedish doll who met an unfortunate end a few years ago when she got too "mouthy" around the American Girl Doll factory. (Again, conjecture on my part.) L.E. is worried that Kirsten will come alive, becoming an American Girl Doll Zombie if you will, and ask her, "Why did you let them get me L.E.? Why did you let them archive me? Socks, socks!" (I have to imagine an American Girl Doll Zombie would be too polite to eat brains, but would have no problem eating your frilly pink socks.)

So L.E. yelled out "I can't stop thinking that my American Girl Dolls are going to come alive." Which although funny, was not the funniest thing she said last night. My personal favorite happened at dinner and it's something I think has probably happened to some of you too.

While I was praying over dinner, I mentioned being thankful that L.E. enjoyed the playground that day. I'm not sure if you know this, but for kids, the playground is like a Mixed Martial Arts Octagon. Was Janet mean to you? Did some punk first grade boy try to kiss you on the cheek? Did you fall in a big puddle? The risks are endless.

So one of the things I prayed was, "Lord, thank you that L.E. had such a great day on the playground." In the middle of the prayer, L.E. leaned over to me and immediately said, "We didn't go on the playground, it was raining. We stayed inside."

She edited me, mid prayer.

I messed up the details, and she rectified that, mid prayer.

At first I wanted to say, "Only kids would do that. They say the darnedest things!" But the more I thought about that, the more I realized I've seen that happen amongst adults and I've personally wanted to do it. Why? Three reasons:

1. A "just grenade" just went off.

I've mentioned before that our favorite word when we pray is "just." We say things like "Lord, just hear us, just guide our steps, just lead us. Just, just, just." Sometimes I just want to just edit out some justs.

2. The person praying didn't listen to the prayer requests.

This happens sometimes. The person closing the prayer didn't listen to the requests people really made. We talked about this in the Stuff Christians Like book. If they refuse to put the onus for remembering the details on God, "Lord, you know all our requests," and instead try to wing it, jumbling all the details, I feel like editing. Martha's having foot surgery, not Martin is trying out for a football team. There is a critical difference between those two.

3. The person praying is using prayer as a way to call out someone in the room.

When you pray, "Lord, help us surround your followers, who have ginger colored beards and who make bad financial decisions and buy houses they can't afford in subdivisions that are named after rivers," we know who you're talking about. If you're legitimately going to ask for public prayer for that person, edit out some of the defining details.

Most times, without juking myself, I try to withhold the desire to edit. I don't want to be a jerk, analyzing worship and prayer and other moments that are bigger than me. Unless you tell me you're worried about Martin's NFL tryout. I might have to step in at that moment.

Have you ever seen someone edit a prayer? Have you ever felt like doing that?

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The wrong type of fishing.

Whether it's a spiritual attack, the creative stress of writing a book, a severe lycopene deficiency or a potpourri of all three, lately I've been having a hard time sleeping.

I'd be no means say I'm struggling with insomnia, but the last week has been a difficult one. Reflecting on it, I think there are a few contributing factors:

1. I'm writing a book.

When I asked people to tell me their story for my new book, more than 600 people responded. From around the world, some of the most amazing/heartbreaking/beautiful stories poured in about the tension we all face when crushed between a day job and a daydream, between doing what we feel called to do and doing what pays the bills. I feel an overwhelming burden to write this book. And as I've said before, the devil only attacks things that matter to the kingdom. So it might make sense that as I sit down to do what I feel led to do, I keep hearing this steady chorus, "Who are you to think you can do this? A 65 year old should write this book, not you. You're woefully under qualified. Your first book was just a satire and 'doesn't count.' This is a 'real' book. You'll never do it."

2. We're trying to buy a house.

We sold our house in Atlanta, which was a tremendous blessing. Now we're trying to buy one. It's definitely one of those moments when, despite your age, you look up and say to your wife, "Hey, where are the adults? Seems like there should be some adults involved in this process. What's that? We're the adults? Oh no." House inspections, negotiating closing costs, old roofs in 25-year-old houses, these are not fun things.

3. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing at blogging.

Not all time and not in a "lack of gratefulness" kind of way. When I wrote my other blog for a year that a handful of people read every day, I would have killed to have something like Stuff Christians Like. But the weird thing about blogging is that you're never "done." There's always a different technology you could be using or a new platform all the smart people are on or a better post you should be writing. Plus, it's so easy to measure yourself in a 1,000 self-esteem crushing ways. Just yesterday someone came in my office and said, "How come that guy's Alexa rating is so much higher than yours?" So you start to compare and realize that other people are better at responding to Twitter conversations than you or have more followers or a million other things that make you feel like you're not doing it "right."

So the combination of those three pressures and a few others, has left me wracked with doubt and anxiety these last few nights. I roll around in bed like a dog turning circles 17 times before it sits down. I close my eyes and a failure parade that spans decades marches into my subconscious. Friendships I didn't maintain. Opportunities I let slip through my hands. Commitments I broke. They all get loud.

In those moments, I often look for the one thing I can do that will "fix" things. Out of the tangle of fear I want to find a fix, to this feeling of failure. But in looking for the fix, I often miss the father.

I lose sight of what his love letter says about stress and panic and fear. There are countless verses, but one I come back to time and time again is 1 Peter 5:7. It says:

"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you."

I love the word image I get from the idea of casting, but I often misinterpret it. I think of casting my fears on God like a deep-sea fisherman. From the 7 minutes I didn't spend throwing up during my one deep sea fishing trip, I remember what it meant to cast in that context. You baited your hook, cast as far as you could and then waited. Some of the time we just had the lines dragging behind the boat while we moved to another spot. We waited until someone got a hit, then we'd jump into the chair and wrestle the fish in.

That's how I've looked at casting my anxiety on the Lord. I do it once a day at best. It's something I do in my quiet time in the morning and then maybe at night if something is really bothering me. It's a singular event, like throwing out a deep sea fishing line.

But in the last few days, I've started to feel like I might be wrong about that. What if casting your anxiety is more like fly-fishing. Have you ever seen a fly fisherman? It's a surprisingly active form of fishing. You have to keep your fly, or lure, in almost constant motion, tapping the water repeatedly in an attempt to attract a fish. The fly is no chunk of bait like in deep fishing either. It's a delicately crafted, insanely detailed decoy that looks like any of a thousand different types of bugs. Fly fisherman are artists, with magnifying glasses and tweezers to craft their lures.

That is how I am with my worry. I am like a fly fisherman in the basement of my heart, slowly, obsessively working on the things I am worried about. I tie on new thread and different colors to my worries. My money concerns aren't just about money, they reflect that I'm a bad husband or a bad father. My book sales thoughts are not just about book sales but actually about whether I'll ever be considered a "real author," a fictional creature I've created that always seems just out of reach.

And into that space, into my panic and tangle of worry, I am told to cast all my anxiety on God. Not like a deep-sea fisherman, throwing out one line and waiting. But more like a fly fisherman, constantly sending out line. Constantly giving up my fears and worries to the Lord. Not as a single act, but as a lifestyle of surrender. As a constant release to the Lord. Why?

The verse doesn't say, "Cast all your anxiety on him because that's what good Christians do."

It says, "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you."

He loves us. He wants us casting all day.

Your job fears.

Your divorce.

Your concern that it's only January 5th and you've already blown your resolutions.

Your belief that it's "too late" to do whatever it is you're called to.

Cast it.

Cast it.

Cast it.

You will never exhaust God with your worries. You will never reach the end of his ability to hear or handle your fears. You will never disappoint him with the amount of times you cast your anxiety on him.

Why?

Because he cares for you, he cares for me, he cares for us!

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