Jon Acuff's Blog, page 165

Getting the bus all wrong

The other night while we were driving around, my 7 year old L.E. piped up in the back seat and said, ìOh look, thereís one of those Happy Him doughnut places.î

Since weíve only lived in Nashville for a few months, I thought it might be possible that there was in fact a doughnut place called ìHappy Him.î Itís a fairly good description of the general doughnut audience (Him) and how you want to leave them after theyíve sampled your wares (Happy).

My daughter continued, ìWe have Happy Him at school sometimes.î Inside I thought, this wasnít an isolated incident. Happy Him was at her school. Good to know. Made sense.

But then we drove by a Krispy Kreme and I realized what was happening. The swirly cursive (known in graphic circles as ìdoughnut font,î comic sansí frivolous cousin) had confused L.E. when she read it. There was no Happy Him.

I love conversations like that and hearing about things sheís experiencing at school. Those stories are fun, but sometimes there are stories about school that you donít want to hear.

The other day, L.E. was on the playground at recess and couldnít find her best friend. It takes first grade little girls about 7 minutes to become best friends and L.E. already had an elaborate song/handshake worked out with her new friend. She found her in the corner of the playground with other two little girls.

In that innocent, Iím just a kid way that only 7 year olds can pull off, she said, ìCan I play with you?î to the three little girls. One girl turned to her, looked her over and said, ìNo, not today.î

As a dad, that kind of thing kills you.

You hate to think of the L.E. in your family walking back to a worn out jump rope and maybe pretending she wasnít crying out on the playground.

And this is first grade. Chances are we are not done with this type of moment.

In sixth grade, someone wonít sit with you at lunch.

In middle school, no one might come to your birthday party.

In high school, your invitation to the dance never came or you didnít measure up for that sports team.

In college, I got rejected from every single fraternity at Samford University. I remember watching the bottom of my door hoping an invitation would magically slide under.

You get older and the person you love doesnít love you back. The job you wanted doesnít want you back. The parent who by very nature of the title is supposed to care about you, doesnít care back.

There are good moments, thousands of good moments, but we tend to obsess and amplify the handful of bad ones we experience. Though the last few paragraphs sounded a little like lyrics from a Counting Crows song, those are the dents in our universe that often come to incorrectly define us. The moments where no one wanted to play with us on the playground.

And then we wonder why itís so hard to believe Jesus loves us.

We spend years, maybe even decades, learning how the world works. There is give and take. Things have to balance out. You earn your keep. You made your bed, now sleep in it. There is cause and effect. A + B = C.

And then there is Jesus, so opposite of everything weíve been led to believe about this planet. He doesnít turn away from the people no one plays with, he actually seeks them out. He doesnít just accept them, he searches for them. He tells stories where the scoundrel gets a party. He shares tales where the single sheep is sought after. He turns away angry mobs and offers hope to adulterers.

This baffled me for so long. I knew Jesus didnít come to get the perfect people. Even in my confusion, I understood that perfection wasnít possible. But I thought he was here to get the good people. On the bus to heaven, the good people got to ride on the inside while us sinners had to cling to the outside. And not in a cool way on the roof like in Teen Wolf 1, which is arguably the better of the two Teen Wolf films. I was clinging to the outside of the bus. (It might say something about my understanding of heaven that it involves a ride on a bus. Have you ever been on a public bus and thought, ìThis seems a lot like heaven. So we use the bathroom 4 feet from where Iím sitting? This is heaven!î)

But in Matthew 9, we see Jesus flip everything upside down. The Pharisees see him hanging out with some of the people no one would play with and they ask the disciples, ìWhy does your teacher eat with tax collectors and ësinnersí?î

On hearing this, Jesus said, ìIt is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.î He continues by adding, ìfor I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.î

Heís here for us. Heís not looking for the people who have it all together. Heís not searching out the perfect. The mom who never makes a mistake, the coworker who can do no wrong, the college student who is flawless. Heís here for the sick and the broken and the sinners.

Why? Because heís love. Heís grace. Heís perfect. And though sometimes it feels impossible, though sometimes it seems too good to be true, though the mechanics of this world feel so counter, the truth is, Jesus always plays with the kids no one else plays with on the playground.

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Getting the bus all wrong.

The other night while we were driving around, my 7 year old L.E. piped up in the back seat and said, "Oh look, there's one of those Happy Him doughnut places."

Since we've only lived in Nashville for a few months, I thought it might be possible that there was in fact a doughnut place called "Happy Him." It's a fairly good description of the general doughnut audience (Him) and how you want to leave them after they've sampled your wares (Happy).

My daughter continued, "We have Happy Him at school sometimes." Inside I thought, this wasn't an isolated incident. Happy Him was at Kenrose Elementary. Good to know. Made sense.

But then we drove by a Krispy Kreme and I realized what was happening. The swirly cursive (known in graphic circles as "doughnut font," comic sans' frivolous cousin) had confused L.E. when she read it. There was no Happy Him.

I love conversations like that and hearing about things she's experiencing at school. Those stories are fun, but sometimes there are stories about school that you don't want to hear.

The other day, L.E. was on the playground at recess and couldn't find her best friend. It takes first grade little girls about 7 minutes to become best friends and L.E. already had an elaborate song/handshake worked out with her new friend. She found her in the corner of the playground with other two little girls.

In that innocent, I'm just a kid way that only 7 year olds can pull off, she said, "Can I play with you?" to the three little girls. One girl turned to her, looked her over and said, "No, not today."

As a dad, that kind of thing kills you.

You hate to think of the L.E. in your family walking back to a worn out jump rope and maybe pretending she wasn't crying out on the playground.

And this is first grade. Chances are we are not done with this type of moment.

In sixth grade, someone won't sit with you at lunch.

In middle school, no one might come to your birthday party.

In high school, your invitation to the dance never came or you didn't measure up for that sports team.

In college, I got rejected from every single fraternity at Samford University. I remember watching the bottom of my door hoping an invitation would magically slide under.

You get older and the person you love doesn't love you back. The job you wanted doesn't want you back. The parent who by very nature of the title is supposed to care about you, doesn't care back.

There are good moments, thousands of good moments, but we tend to obsess and amplify the handful of bad ones we experience. Though the last few paragraphs sounded a little like lyrics from a Counting Crows song, those are the dents in our universe that often come to incorrectly define us. The moments where no one wanted to play with us on the playground.

And then we wonder why it's so hard to believe Jesus loves us.

We spend years, maybe even decades, learning how the world works. There is give and take. Things have to balance out. You earn your keep. You made your bed, now sleep in it. There is cause and effect. A + B = C.

And then there is Jesus, so opposite of everything we've been led to believe about this planet. He doesn't turn away from the people no one plays with, he actually seeks them out. He doesn't just accept them, he searches for them. He tells stories where the scoundrel gets a party. He shares tales where the single sheep is sought after. He turns away angry mobs and offers hope to adulterers.

This baffled me for so long. I knew Jesus didn't come to get the perfect people. Even in my confusion, I understood that perfection wasn't possible. But I thought he was here to get the good people. On the bus to heaven, the good people got to ride on the inside while us sinners had to cling to the outside. And not in a cool way on the roof like in Teen Wolf 1, which is arguably the better of the two Teen Wolf films. I was clinging to the outside of the bus. (It might say something about my understanding of heaven that it involves a ride on a bus. Have you ever been on a public bus and thought, "This seems a lot like heaven. So we use the bathroom 4 feet from where I'm sitting? This is heaven!")

But in Matthew 9, we see Jesus flip everything upside down. The Pharisees see him hanging out with some of the people no one would play with and they ask the disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and 'sinners'?"

On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick." He continues by adding, "for I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

He's here for us. He's not looking for the people who have it all together. He's not searching out the perfect. The mom who never makes a mistake, the coworker who can do no wrong, the college student who is flawless. He's here for the sick and the broken and the sinners.

Why? Because he's love. He's grace. He's perfect. And though sometimes it feels impossible, though sometimes it seems too good to be true, though the mechanics of this world feel so counter, the truth is, Jesus always plays with the kids no one else plays with on the playground.

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1st look at my new book!

Traditionally, you only release one book per year. There are exceptions, but there are generally 12 months between book releases. Stuff Christians Like came out in April, so it's only been out for seven months. We thought that maybe we'd release a second book in the spring or fall of 2011.

But then I joined Dave Ramsey's team and one day a coworker named Daniel Bell suggested we do an additional book. He thought it might be cool to create a funny, visually surprising book that covered all of the silly things that happen to people when it comes to money. We'd still focus on releasing a book in the spring that had elements of Serious Wednesday in it, but could we do a bonus book in between?

Inside, I thought, "That's crazy. Concept, write, illustrate and finish a book in 10 weeks? Who does that?"

And then I remembered, Dave Ramsey does. This entire company is built on the idea of saying, "We do," when faced with impossible ideas and the question, "Who does that?"

So we did.

We took a look at money and debt and all the funny things that happen in between. Getting our money under control really changed my marriage and my family. And just last week a mom told me, "I can't wait for this book. My daughter doesn't want to talk about this stuff but maybe a book that is funny will help open the door."

The title of the book is "Gazelles, Baby Steps and 37 Other Things Dave Ramsey Taught Me About Debt." Ideas include:

1. You can't walk out of Target with only one item.

2. Dave Ramsey doesn't want you to wear a barrel with suspenders.

3. How to baby-proof your house against a 27-year-old.

4. Bridesmaid dresses, the cruelest thing ladies do to each other.

5. The pet store is a "free zoo."

Dave Ramsey wrote the forward and we illustrated it with some of the funniest illustrations I've ever seen.

It will be officially out at the end of November and we'll start taking pre-orders in the next few days. In the meantime, below is the cover.

I'm really excited about the opportunity to add a new book to the mix and also looking forward to the third book that will release this spring. Thanks for continuing to make stuff like this possible by reading the site and buying Stuff Christians Like!

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Putting the wrong Bible verse on things.

A few weeks ago when I was in Mexico, someone challenged me to eat an entire thing of queso in one bite.

One bite? How is that even possible? It's all gooey and barely "spoonable." You don't really "bite it."

Ahh, but this one had congealed. It had hardened into a hockey puck of cheese. It was one thick disc of cheese in a bowl. And at the other end of the table, I heard one friend tell the other that he'd never eat that just to win $40.

In that split second, I realized I had been training for this moment my entire life. I've long confessed my love of queso or cheese dip. All those dinners at Mexican restaurants, all those appetizers in college were about to finally come to fruition. I felt like I was a minor league baseball player getting the call to the majors.

The majors of cheese.

So I quickly jumped up and said, "$40? I've got this." And then in one fluid, catlike move I grabbed the spoon and put the whole thing into my mouth.

The best way to describe it is to compare it to big league chew bubble gum, that shredded bubble gum that is supposed to mimic chewing tobacco in shape and size. For five minutes it was like I was chewing cheese flavored big league chew. It was not easy and I was not allowed any water during the feat. A fact, that I should have been warned about before attempting to eat the cheese. There should have been a "Danger! Danger!" sign on that bowl of cheese. A placard indicating the hazards of eating that much cheese. There should have been some sort of written warning.

Or at the bare minimum, a Bible verse.

That's something that is definitely "Stuff Christians Like." We are no stranger to attaching the word of God to a variety of objects. From car bumpers to baseballs, I've seen Bible verses on every surface possible. And I think that can be a great thing. I think it can be a good conversation starter.

But I do have one bit of warning. There are some verses that shouldn't be applied to some things. There are some verses that don't fit every application. There are some verses that aren't really meant for say, Halloween candy.

A mom named Jill reminded of that recently. Her two year old got a packet of smarties, which I kind of think of as the George Washington of candy. (Consistent, old fashioned, humble, but hardworking as far as candy goes.)

There were two Bible verses on his smarties. And quite frankly, I'm hoping one of them was just a misprint. Because unless this two year old had a five o'clock shadow, was pounding red bulls at the door and trick or treating with scandalous ladies, I'm not sure this verse should be on candy. Here is the picture Jill took. (Click on it to see it larger):

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Wow. That is insane. The kid was two. Don't get me wrong, I think that's a critical message, unless you're still in diapers.

And I have 2 questions about it:

1. What's the weirdest verse you've seen on something or the weirdest item you've seen with a Bible verse on it?

2. Remembering to keep it so fresh and so clean, how would you caption this photo?

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Leaving church before it's over.

Last week, I spoke in San Diego about the impact of Christ in the Denzel Washington movie, "Man on Fire." And for the most part it was a pretty good experience.

Why just, "for the most part?"

Well, about five minutes into my talk, two people got up and left. Not together, they left individually at different times. Then midway through, two people came in, listened for a minute and then walked back out. Normally, four people leaving wouldn't be a big deal. But there were only 25 people in the room. So those four people represented 16% of the audience. As a speaker, you are highly aware of someone on the second row of a 25-person crowd deciding, "This is whack, I'm going to bounce."

In my head, I instantly thought:

1. Did I swear? I don't feel like I did, but did I start off this talk with profanity?

2. I was talking about prayer. Did they hate me joking about telling people you'll pray for them and then forgetting to?

3. Couldn't they have at least pretended to receive a phone call and whispered, "An orphanage caught on fire and you need me to help put it out? I hate to leave this awesome speech by Jon Acuff, but OK!"

I pushed through my insecurities and ended up actually talking about it at the end of the speech. Everyone who was still there laughed and admitted, that was wicked awkward.

But as uncomfortable as that was, it's nothing compared to what happened to my friends from Texas. They were looking for a new church and visited one on a Sunday morning. They were a little late and the church was so full they asked my friends to sit in the crying room with the screaming babies. (If you're a member, this was a great time to scoot to the middle and make room, versus make a visitor sit in the wailing room, but I digress.)

Ten minutes into the service, they knew this was not going to be the right fit for them and sitting in the yelling closet wasn't awesome, so they left. As they entered the sanctuary to walk out the back, their four year old yelled loud enough for everyone to hear, "Dad, we're leaving! Why are we leaving? Why dad, why are we leaving? It's not over yet!"

Then he started telling them that he wanted to take the elevator instead of the stairs, something they had promised on the way in. (Elevators are like suburban roller coasters for 4 year olds.) As their son trumpeted their exit, my friend grabbed him like a cord of fire wood under one arm and ran down the stairs like a bank robber.

Awesome. That makes me feel a little better about what happened to me.

But it does make me curious about two things:

1. Have you ever left church before it was over? If so, why?

2. What's the craziest, most embarrassing thing your kid has done in church?

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How do you build an awesome shoebox?

We're doing a fun, quick project with Samaritan's Purse. The person who creates the most fantastical shoebox and donates it to Operation Christmas Child will win a big box of awesome. Publishers like Waterbrook Multnomah and tons of musicians and t-shirt companies and many others are jam packing this thing with great prizes. (If you want to get your item in the box and get some love on SCL, email me.)

But how do you build a shoebox? You can find great info here, or watch the quick video below. Please note, when the video talks about wrapping the box, that's where you can get crazily creative to win the giveaway or you can focus on awesome items in the box. The video is also from Australia and has the wrong date in it. You can email a photo of your entry by November 17 to OCCcontests@samaritan.org. And then drop it off at one of these easy locations.

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The Big Box Giveaway!

Last year, readers of Stuff Christians Like raised $60,000 to build two kindergartens with Samaritan's Purse. It was amazing experience and reminded me why our family has supported that organization for years.

This Christmas we're going to do something different.

We're going to do the Stuff Christians Like Big Box Giveaway. (Or SCLBBG)

What's that?

Simple, we're going to hold a contest to see who can come up with the most creative, awesomest, fantastical shoebox with Samaritan's purse. Operation Christmas Child collects shoeboxes full of stuff to give away to kids all over the world every Christmas. They've given away 77 million shoeboxes since 1993. But I told Franklin Graham that Stuff Christians Like readers would create the most creative shoeboxes they've ever seen. (I didn't tell Franklin that personally, I was just being dramatic. But I would tell it to him if we ever played racquetball or ate a pizza together. I would.)

The shoeboxes are distributed to over 100 countries to victims of poverty, war, disease and natural disaster.

To participate, take an empty shoe box and fill it with toys, hygiene items, school supplies, candy and items that are gender and age specific according to the category you select on the packing label. For more info check out this list. (Samaritan's Purse includes a Gospel story booklet with each box. Most shoe box recipients will have an opportunity to enroll in a 12-lesson discipleship course through the local church called The Greatest Journey)

When you've filled and designed and bedazzled the ultimate box, email a photo of it: OCCcontests@samaritan.org

Let's accept entries until November 17 so that you have time to actually drop it off and send it out. My family will also be participating so maybe if you're in Nashville we could all go drop them off together and grab coffee.

The best box is going to win a huge box of awesome stuff from me. CDs, autographed books, clothes etc. (If you've got a book or CD or anything else awesome you want to throw in the box, email me.)

I think it's going to be fun and I'm excited about partnering with Samaritan's Purse again.

For more info or to find a drop off box near you, visit Samaritan's Purse.

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Listening to devil music.

(I didn't grow up listening to what might be classified as "devil music." I grew up on Public Enemy and LL Cool J. (Obviously.) But today, Joe Waller drops by with a great guest post about that infamous music parents the world over classified as "devil music." Enjoy.)

Listening to Devil Music

"Hi. My name is Joe, and I listen to heavy metal music." This simple statement has the power to affect the masses in very dramatic ways. If said around the older crowd at church, I'd expect looks of shock, horror, and maybe even a fainting or heart attack.

If said around a group of friends who view me as the sheltered church kid, then looks of confusion take over as they wonder what's gone wrong in the world to turn me over to the dark side of music. If said around my parents, I see the "I don't understand" shaking of heads as they go back to their Phil Keaggy and Sandi Patty. Yes, this simple confession of interest can yield very different responses. Most of which are opposed to such music.

The confusion stems in part from us not having an agreed upon definition of "devil music." Here are 8 indications that you may in fact be listening to it:

1. The band screams their lyrics.

2. The bad growls their lyrics. (Even worse)

3. They can play their instruments at seemingly inhuman speeds.

4. There are skulls on their album cover.

5. There album cover is pure black.

6. satan actually makes a cameo on their album cover.

7. They mention the word "blood" in at least 50% of their songs and it's not preceded by the word, "sanctified" or followed by the phrase, "of forgiveness."

8. The name of the band sounds like something the bad guys in a Steven Segal movie would yell, e.g. "You're going to die!" or "Death from above!"

Indications like the ones above kept many kids like me from going near heavy metal for years. But all hope of finding acceptable "bang-your-head-against-the-wall" music is not lost! For in today's world, we have such a thing as CHRISTIAN SCREAMO MUSIC!!! Finally, the same intensely driving music, but without cursing and pentagrams!

Also, consider the vast number of hymns that could double as metal songs. "There is Power in the Blood," "Are You Washed in the Blood," and "There is a Fountain" are all hymns our parents grew up singing, and they all are about blood and death!

Imagine if Demon Hunter did an album with their trademark screamo-metal sound, but used hymn lyrics. How awesome would that be?! Or, take a look at some of the Christian metal lyrics around today. Some could be used for praise and worship! What if Chris Tomlin took metal lyrics and transformed them into praise and worship songs? While it may never happen, how I'd like to see that day! A day when people of all musical interests could sing (or scream) their praise together! While it would be very strange, what a day that would be.

Did your parents or youth minister ever accuse you of listening to "devil music."

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The rarest church musician of all time.

At a wedding recently I experienced the musical equivalent of a unicorn.

I would have taken pictures but it would have been weird if everyone was turned to look at the bride and I was taking pictures of the organ player. (Organist? Organneer? Not really sure.)

At this point in church music, I kind of assumed that organ players are an endangered species. Similar to how National Geographic will show you a profile of the Snow Leopard with a red dot in Tibet where they inhabit, I expected that Christianity Today would do the same thing with organ players, showing that their natural habitat is the Bible Belt and that there numbers are dwindling.

They have to be right? When is the last time you went to church and they jammed on the organ? And if they did, I promise the Organista was not in their 20s. It's a gentleman's instrument. It's more Reader's Digest and less Teen Vogue. But seeing this 25 year old blasting away on the organ raised a few questions in me.

1. How do you get into the organ? Is there a "gateway instrument" you play first? Like a xylophone, that leads to a pan flute, that eventually leads to an organ?

2. How do you practice if you love the organ? No one has one at home. Do you have to break into church in the middle of the night?

3. Is the Phantom of the Opera your Jimi Hendrix?

4. Does Zondervan publish a "Chris Tomlin songs for the Organ?" Or do you have to compose your own?

5. Who cleans the organs? Please tell me there is some sort of pipe-grinding monkey involved. Or a team of ferrets who wear swiffers on their furry little backs and climb in the pipes.

6. Do you have any rivalries? Like, do organ players hate the tambourine guy?

7. If you go on the road, do you have to fly with an organ? I hate paying for an extra bag when I fly. What's an organ run you, like $18,000 at baggage check in?

8. Is playing the organ kind of like being Highlander? There can only be one player in your town?

9. Do you feel like you don't get enough credit for what you do? I mean your instrument has approximately 87 buttons and 94 pedals. You're not making music, you're landing a plane. That's harder than the three chords 95% of acoustic guitar players learn.

10. If I played the organ, I'd want to be the guy from the Counting Crows. That guy makes their songs so much better with the Hammond organ. Are Hammond players like the Navy Seals of the organ by any chance?

11. Are there enough of you that I'm going to receive a sharply worded letter or worse, an organ pipe in my bed?

So many questions. My head is a awash in intrigue. If we ever hang out and I'm quiet near you, this is they type of thing I'm thinking about.

I'm curious though, what instruments does your church play on Sunday morning?

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Got something cool?

We're announcing a big, crazy, fun thing on Saturday. It will involve giving away a huge "box of awesome." If you've got something awesome like a book, a CD, a t-shirt, coffee, etc. that you want to put in the big box of awesome email me. We'll feature it in a post on Stuff Christians Like and let the 150,000+ awesome folks who read each month know you're awesome for helping out.

Thanks!

Side hugs and a gratuitous use of the word awesome,

Jon

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