Jon Acuff's Blog, page 169

Shameless Saturday!

What's your blog?

What's your cause? What's your band? What's your book?

What's the link you want people to see more than anything else?

I hereby declare this "Shameless Saturday."

Post a link to whatever it is you're all about with no shame or apologizing or feeling like you're making a comment on a post you really don't care about but are instead secretly trying to pimp your own blog. (I've done that myself many times. The best way to do it is to say, "That's an interesting post. It reminds me of something I wrote recently on my blog …." Sometimes when people do that it's actually a good link to something they wrote that is similar to what was written on another post. But when I was coming up, on 8 mile, just trying to rock the mic at any chance I was given, that was definitely one of the techniques I employed.)

Please, use the comments this weekend to let us know about your blog or your cause or your band or your whatever. The Internets are so big it's hard to find everything cool. (I try to do Shameless Saturday once a season, so please consider this the Winter edition.)

Tell us what's up with a link.

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Leaving a church, 2.0

(I've spent the last few days with one of the funniest people I know, Bryan Allain. You've seen his work here before, he's going to have a book eventually and I think you'll dig today's guest post. Enjoy!)

Leaving a church, 2.0

Oh technology, how you have enriched our lives.

Years ago when I wanted to know who won last night's game I watched CNN headline news for "sports on the sevens". These days I've got live sporting events on my High-Def pocket phone.

Years ago if I wanted to know how a radio worked, I made up crazy theories about a band of miniature musicians who lived in each device that could play every song known to man. These days, I can go online and learn how to build my own radio out of binder clips and Neosporin. (Though I'm still partial to the mini-musicians idea, which I believe was heavily influenced by the technological revelations on the Flintstones.)

Years ago when I wanted to know if there was any Cracker Barrel extra sharp cheese in the fridge I'd have to get up and go see for myself. These days I can just open the iFridge app on my iPhone and not only check how many slices are left, but have them beamed right to my spot on the couch. (I'm dreaming here people, work with me.)

It seems technology has made the good things better and the bad things worse.

Take leaving a church, for example. Twenty years ago if you decided to take your bible and go home, there were only so many grenades you could drop on the way out. A theatrical outburst at the mid-week prayer meeting, a few gossip-riddled conversations at the pharmacy, and a phone call or two to poison your branch of the prayer-chain were the extent of the damage you could do.

But these days with the help of technology, you can burn so many bridges leaving a church that George Jetson would be able to see the flames while flying home from a Spacely Sprockets. (And with that I've used up my quota of Hanna-Barbera references for this decade.)

Don't believe me that leaving church can be much more disastrous than ever in 2010? Think I'm exaggerating the devious options that Web 2.0 has opened up for disgruntled Christians? Planning on closing this article if I ask one more question? Have I got a 7-Step program for you.

Leaving a Church 2.0* (a 7-Step Program)

Step 1 – Use Facebook.

a. Passive Aggressive Facebook Updates. Before you un-friend everyone in your church, fling a little poo. Start with a status update that says,"looking for a 'real' church, any suggestions?" When folks ask you what happened, tell them the wound is too fresh to go into detail.

b. Comment on Status Updates. Whenever anyone from your church says something nice about a recent church service or ministry event, leave a comment that says "this is when i wish Facebook had a 'dislike' button".

c. Mass Un-Friending. Finally, un-friend everyone who goes to your church. They won't realize right away that you've done it, but eventually people will catch on. Turning down their requests when they try to friend you back will be the gift that keeps on giving for the next 3 months.

Step 2 – Write Negative Reviews.

Find your church's podcast in iTunes and spend an entire day posting scathing reviews. Do the same for any clips on YouTube and Vimeo. And if you're lucky enough that your pastor is an author, by all means turn the review section of his book's Amazon page into the web equivalent of a Comedy Central roast.

Step 3 – Page Not Loading.

Hire a hacker to organize a massive denial-of-service attack on the church website the week before the launch of their biggest series of the year. Make sure all their promotional material has been mailed out and the story in the local paper has already run. Chances are no one at the church will be web-savvy enough to figure out what's going on.

Step 4 – Get Your Blog On.

Start a new blog, IhateFreedomSpringRiverChurch.wordpress.com, and link to it from all of your social networking sites. Be sure to populate the blog with a few posts before you launch it. Some great starter posts include "The Top 10 Fakest People at Freedom Spring River", "R-Rated Movies other than Braveheart that I'm pretty sure Pastor Rick has watched", "People who Put $1 Bills in the Offering Bag", and "The Least Talented People in the Worship Ministry".

Step 5 – The RickRoll.

Still have that hacker on Speed Dial? Hire him one more time to redirect everyone who goes to your church's website to get RickRolled. Just make sure you send them to the worst Rick Astley video ever. No, not "Never Gonna Give You Up", send them to his new one, "Lights Out". (i mean seriously Rick, what is up with the hand motions?)

Step 6 – Wreak Twitter Havoc.

First, change your Twitter bio to "Christ Follower, FORMER member of Freedom Spring River Church." Next create a public Twitter List called "Hypocrites" and populate it with everyone who goes to your church, including the pastors. Finally, re-tweet every spiritual tweet they post with snarky comments. Examples:

RT @PastorRickFSRC "Seek Ye First The Kingdom of God and all these things will be added to you" // like your new Turbo Audi, pastor moneybags???

RT @PaulReedSmitty77 Great worship practice tonight. Felt the presence of God there. // Sure it wasn't just the key changes, you musical pharisee?

RT @MaryBeth_Simmons So thankful for my small group. Needed their support tonight. // They all hate you.

Step 7 – Go into the Vault.

Remember that time "the laughers" cackled during the entire 11am service like the Holy Spirit was tickling them with a feather from Lady Gaga's peacock outfit? Find that video and sent it to Mathew Paul Turner to highlight on jesusneedsnewpr.net. In fact, any video that involves laughing, barking, or people laying on the sanctuary floor covered in modesty cloths can be edited to look terrible, so crack open iMovie and get to it.

And with that, take a deep breath and roast some marshmallows over those burning bridges.

—

Joking aside, putting this list together got me thinking of the time my parents left the church we were going to when I was in high school, and it made me wonder how many of you all have been through a similar experience.

Have you ever left a church, either as a kid with your parents or as an adult? Was the experience uneventful or more like a train wreck?

*And for the record, if you're REALLY going to leave a church I hope you do the exact opposite of what's on this list. I hope you move on leaving a trail of grace and humility behind you.

Bryan Allain writes daily doses of nonsense and inspiration at his blog BryanAllain.com and on Twitter @bryanallain.

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The guy who tries to fix your problems when you make a prayer request.

When my wife and I first got married, I thought that when she told me her problems, she wanted me to instantly solve them with my awesome ideas. I thought that what she desired, what she wanted most, was not that I listen to her problems. A large house cat or domesticated ferret can listen to you. What she needed from me were solutions.

And the faster I could get them out the better.

And if I could actually cut her off in the middle of telling me a story about her day, she'd be OK with that.

Apparently, I was mistaken.

Though I tried to instantly fix her issues, she never really seemed to take me up on my wicked awesome ideas. In fact most times, it just made her mad.

People don't like that. Being cut off was not in fact one of her love languages. (I keep hoping that the game "Words with Friends" counts as a love language.) She wasn't happy with me when I did that in our marriage, but I think there's something even worse. I think there is someone even more annoying and infuriating than I was. I'm talking about …

The guy who tries to fix when your problems when you make a prayer request.

You might have experienced this individual. You might not be familiar with his moves and maneuvers. But please allow me to give you a few warning signs so that you know what to do the next time he rears his head:

4 signs you're about to be "prayer fixed."

1. The phrase "why don't you just?"

This is the signature phrase of prayer fixers the world over. Having problems at your job? "Why don't you get a new job?" Don't like your landlord? "Why don't you just move?" Boyfriend being a jerk? "Why don't you just dump him?" Keep an open hear for this handy phrase.

2. The solution is always stupid obvious.

The prayer fixer doesn't really have any deep insight, but instead usually just blurts out a solution the average organgutan would have figured out. If you're house burned down, the prayer fixer will tell you that you should really be more careful around fire. If a squirrel got inside your attic and had what one can only assume is a well attended "squirrel dance off," they'll tell you, "You should keep squirrels out of your house.

3. It always happens more than once.

Everyone gets one free "prayer fix." Even your best friends are going to pipe up when they hear you constantly complaining about a boyfriend who is a jerk. That doesn't mean they're a prayer fixer, it might just mean they love you. Listen for a repeat offender, someone who can't help constantly trying to fix your problems in the middle of your prayer request.

4. If cornered, they will claim they have the "gift of discernment."

Be forewarned, prayer fixers are slippery like river otters. If you confront them, even in Christian love, they will often tell you that they're not judging your problems or trying to fix them. They've been blessed with the gift of discernment. Don't believe them. Tell them you've been blessed with the gift of "water balloons" and then hit them with one.

Am I advocating a water balloon fight in the middle of a prayer circle? I suppose I am, I suppose I am.

But have you ever experienced a "prayer fixer?"

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At least faith.

If it were up to me, you'd be allowed to board an airplane based on how fast you took your shoes off in the security line. Clock a good time? You're on the plane first! Slowly unlace waist high boots? You'll board last.

It would be like the Olympics of airport security. And it would be awesome.

These are the kind of things I think about when I fly. If you follow me on twitter, and you really should, you know all of this. You know that last Saturday I tweeted about the four year old next to me who shook his sippy cup like he had just won the NBA Championship. Milk flew on my book and my face. It was a scene man, a real scene.

Eventually the flight attendant stepped in when the kid made a play for the fire extinguisher and the bullhorn. Party time!

But that kid wasn't even the most interesting thing that happened on that flight. There was an officer in the army sitting on the other side of me. He was flying back to Afghanistan and said something that really surprised me. I asked him what was one of the biggest misconceptions about Afghanistan and here's what he told me:

"We statistically lose more 18-25 year old soldiers when they go home for R&R than we do in combat in the field."

That surprised me. If you asked me which was more dangerous, being in the middle of an armed conflict in Afghanistan or going home for a few weeks of rest and relaxation, I'd pick the first option. But the more the army officer explained it, the more it made sense.

"What sometimes happens is that you have folks that go back home after being out of the country for months at a time. They're flush with cash, haven't been in a lot of social situations lately and think they're out of danger."

They buy motorcycles and crash them. They make crazy financial situations that wreck them. They get in DUIs. In a million different ways they make the kind of mistakes that can ruin you. All at home. All on vacation.

The more I listened to him, the more the story started to sound familiar. In fact, I think we do a similar thing with our faith sometimes.

We all know the "neon sins" we're not supposed to do. We all know the big things we should avoid like the plague. Adultery, murder, money laundering, robbing banks, chances are if I suggested we shouldn't do those things you'd agree. There's nothing groundbreaking about that. But sometimes we play the "at least game."

My friend reminded me of this a few years ago. I told him I felt like I was struggling with some lust issues. I told him I was feeling pretty wrecked by some decisions I was making. In the middle of our conversation he said,

"Yeah, but at least you're not sleeping with hookers."

That's true, I wasn't sleeping with hookers. I was avoiding some neon sins in my life. I wasn't involved in prostitution. I was staying away from the combat zone types of sins, the at war in Afghanistan type of dangers. I was escaping the trenches in my life on the battlefield of my heart.

But I was dying on vacation.

I might not have been sleeping with hookers, but I was slowly wearing myself away with lust and pornography. My death might not have been dramatic or extreme, like a rocket-propelled grenade from an enemy, but it was happening nonetheless. My faith had grown weak and comfortable. I wasn't growing, I wasn't being renewed, I was a adrift. And I don't want that.

I don't want "at least" faith.

I don't want to find somebody who is worse off than me in order to feel better about me.

I don't want to prepare and train and fight hard against the big enemies of my life, only to die in the middle of an ordinary weekday, during an ordinary vacation.

The battlefield is a scary place. We're constantly reminded of that as pastors and friends alike give in to big terrifying foes. But in our desire to prepare for the battlefield bruises, in our focus on the big, loud, neon sins in our lives, let's not lose sight of the little things.

Let's let go of "at least" faith.

Let's not die on vacation.

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Asking people to "scoot to the middle" in church.

There are two types of people in the world, those who will sit in a seat that's not there's at an event and those who won't.

I am in the "won't" category. If I have tickets for the nosebleed section at a concert, that's where I sit. I can't sneak down front and sit in better seats without constantly thinking the rightful owner of that seat is about to show up at any moment. And he's probably an Ultimate Fighter with his concealed weapon permit.

Plus, when you get caught you have to pretend you didn't know you're $10 tickets didn't permit you to sit on the front row. "Wait a second, this is row #1? Let me look at my ticket. Oh, would you look at that! I'm in row #1,000. Simple mistake on my part. Whoops!"

I can't do it. I can't be that guy, which is why I like the seating arrangement at most churches. No one has a ticket. Each Sunday morning is a seat free for all. And it all comes to a head when the pastor says one thing:

"Please scoot to the middle so people who just got here can squeeze in."

But every time I hear that phrase three things go through my head:

1. The scoot rewards bad behavior.

I got here early. I've got the end of the aisle on lockdown. If I scoot, people who come late are going to be rewarded for their late behavior. Like a hamster receiving a delicious nut when it presses a lever, they'll associate lateness with primo end of aisle seating. That's perpetuating bad behavior.

2. Can we all vote on a better word than "scoot?"

"Scoot" sounds like a cartoon, make em up word from Ponyville, the home of My Little Pony. That's a word I want Papa Smurf saying, not my pastor. I say we change scoot, to "slide." That sounds cool and almost like a hip hop move or a wedding dance that your crazy Aunt always does at the reception.

3. Is this a Boundaries moment?

In the book, "Boundaries," Cloud and Townsend detail healthy boundaries we all need to draw in our lives when it comes to personal relationships and the way we let people treat us. Is there anyway that when someone comes to my aisle and tries to get me to slide, I can just say, "Sorry dude, boundaries?"

4. This is the only place on the planet where the scoot works.

Try to get someone to scoot at a high school football game. Or in a Starbucks. With your coffee and a smile, just walk up to a hip couch and say to a stranger, "Will you please scoot to the middle?" That probably won't be awkward.

5. Can I rescoot if no one comes?

If I do scoot and no one comes, can I rescoot or descoot and claim my previously surrender seat territory? Does that make someone I scooted next to in the middle feel smelly? It's not that they're smelly, they might be wearing coolwater cologne for all I know, but I like I little space between me and the next guy, a "Baptist buffer" if you will. Can I rescoot?

Fortunately, you are not like me. You will not think these things in church. You do not spend moments of your life thinking about the consequences of "scooting." I'm proud of you, I really am.

But be honest, do you scoot when called upon to scoot?

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Win 5 copies of Gabe Lyons' new book.

The book "unchristian" sold approximately 12 bajillion copies. And it did, because it's a great book.

Now Gabe Lyons has a new book out today called "The Next Christians: The Good News About the End of Christian America."

I think you'll really like it and when Gabe asked me if I wanted to give away a few copies, I of course said yes.

We'll give away five copies today. Just answer the following question by the end of Tuesday, October 5th and we'll pick 5 folks at random to receive a free book.

Here's the question:

How many books do you read every year?

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Fall retreats.

I can feel it coming in the air tonight! And I don't mean Phil Collins or even Mike Tyson doing an odd punching dance to that hit song. (And quite frankly, you shouldn't even get that reference.)

Every time the weather changes I do two things: 1. I smell candles at the Yankee Candle store. 2. I miss fall retreats.

I can't really explain it, but there was something magical about going to a fall youth group retreat as a teen in Massachusetts. Something about it being cold and being able to see your breath feels holier than a Spring retreat. I simply find thick sweaters and items made of down to be more holy than tank tops or skorts.

And now that we've entered October, churches across the country are getting ready to take teenagers on fall retreats. In preparation for that, kind of in the same way that the Nashville airport uses country stars to give you public service announcements over the intercom, I thought I would give you a public service announcement today about fall retreats. (Next time you fly into Nashville, you'll hear them. "This is Garth Brooks, please don't pet police dogs, they will bite without mercy.)

Here are 19 things every fall retreat needs:

1. A bonfire

Church retreat fires come in two sizes: 1. Too small to generate heat to even roast a marshmallow and 2. Large enough to be seen from out of space. (Expect people to confess things around the fire too, campfires make Christians 87% more honest.)

2. A rival youth group at the same location

Nothing says, "worshiping God on a retreat," like a rival youth group you can pull pranks on who happen to be renting the same facility you are.

3. A bullhorn

Every youth minister I've ever met has owned a bullhorn. I think they must give them out with their diploma at seminary.

4. A wild card guest speaker

Will he swear? Will he do some message illustration that involves whipped cream? Who can tell, he's the wild card, a youth speaker brought in from somewhere else to knock out the retreat like the Wolf in the movie Pulp Fiction. I hope to one day play this role as a speaker.

5. The guy who brings his acoustic guitar.

"What? I didn't even realize I had this on my back. Want me to play one of the three songs I know? Oh ladies, if you insist!"

6. Something confiscated.

Not sure what this will actually be, but during the retreat, at least one thing should be confiscated. A cell phone that should have been turned off, a bag of fireworks, some sort of woodland creature caught to be placed in the girls' cabin. Take your choice.

7. The girl who under packed.

"Wait, what? This is October? All I have is shorts! Instead of wearing something warm, I'm going to walk around the entire weekend blowing into my hands and telling you how cold I am. Brrrrrr."

8. The van that breaks down on the way there.

Churches tend to spend more on designing their website than they do on keeping their vans fireproof. (Did I just namedrop a Kirk Cameron movie?) If you're going on a fall retreat, expect to be on the side of the road at some point at least 3 times. (This is not to be confused with the "cool van.")

9. A location that closely resembles the set of a horror movie.

If the place you hold your retreat doesn't look like a wooded/haunted abandoned campground where an ax murderer may or may not vacation, you're not trying hard enough.

10. Someone who fears they will die without the Internet for 48 hours.

Oh the torture. The torture! Someone is going to complain about being cut off from humanity without the Internet. Tell them what they are experiencing is called "the year of 1996," and whole countries managed to survive without the Internet.

11. A conflict with the year's best college football game.

This might just be a Southern thing, but without fail, but youth group retreats always happen on the same weekend as the best college football game of the season. I'm sorry, but I bet this year you're retreat will conflict with the Auburn vs. Alabama game.

12. The Saturday Night Cryfest

You're going to cry on Saturday night. Go ahead and accept that. It's happening. Your emotions will get going and before you know it, as my friend Tyler says, you'll be right in the middle of "sloppy agape." Count on it.

13. The Good Cop/Bad Cop youth group leaders

What a twosome! Every retreat needs a youth group leader that everyone loves and then one that everyone is afraid of. Assign the bad cop to the pastor's kid. We need it, I promise.

14. The hot seat

No retreat is complete without an incredibly awkward moment where each teen sits in a chair in the center of a circle and everyone else tells them at least one compliment. Such a sweaty good time.

15. At least one moment to "go be by yourself."

Every retreat I ever attended had this moment. It usually coincides with the cryfest. The minister tells you, "Think about what we talked about tonight and go sit somewhere by yourself for a while." And then you do, and something horrible happens.

16. People who throw stuff away out of guilt.

Music, movies, magazines, start a bag labeled, "Things I'm getting rid of on the retreat, but might purchase again in four weeks."

17. Somebody who tries to "make purple."

There's going to be a few people who try to sneak off and make out. This is not a maybe, this is a definite. (Here are 11 ways to prevent it.)

18. At least one sprained ankle.

Count on this.

19. The Youth Minister thrown into a body of water.

At Centrifuge at Gordon College in Massachusetts, they had the most disgusting pond I've ever seen in my life. And for some reason we always threw our youth minister, Kurt Andre, in it. Find a body of water on the first night you arrive at the retreat and then start planning.

That list really needs a 20th item, doesn't it? I mean who has ever heard of a 19 point list? That's ridiculous.

What did I miss?

What did you love about fall retreats?

Have you ever been on a fall retreat?

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Win a copy of Lecrae's new ablum, "Rehab."

The other day my friend tried to tell me she was "street." She said this, because if you've met me, you know how hip hop I really am.[image error]

That's just fact, son. (See I put "son" in there just to prove it. Word.)

She told me, "I went to a rap concert. I've been to a rap concert!"

"Really?" I said, "Maybe I was wrong, was it fun?"

"Yeah," she said, "The concert was awesome. At one point the rapper came down to the front row and yelled to me, 'Jesus is _____?' And I yelled "Butter!"

At that point I knew she hadn't been to a rap concert. She had been to a Christian rap concert. And in the past that was a completely different experience. Don't get me wrong. I loved D-Boy and knew all the words to "Luv is a verb." But historically, Christian rap has not been the most awesome rap out there.

That's changing though.

Reach Records is consistently releasing some great Christian rap. Folks like LeCrae are forcing me to let go of my small minded, "too cool for Christian culture" thoughts.

He's a solid rapper. He has a huge heart for Christ. His albums are great. And now there's a new one called "Rehab." You can take a listen to it on iTunes right here. You can hear three of the songs right here.

Instead of a traditional ad, Reach agreed to give out some great stuff to readers of Stuff Christians Like. CDs, vinyl record, t-shirts and hoodies are all up for grabs.

To enter, just answer this question in the comments on SCL by the end of the day Tuesday, October 5th. I'll randomly pick 3 winners.

Here's the question:

What is the last song or album you bought?

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Passing the prayer at dinner.

(I love a good post about prayer and I think you'll dig this guest spot from Joel. Enjoy!)

In the past, Jon has talked about prayer shot blocks, that awkward moment where someone prays the opposite of what you are praying for. Example: Someone prays God will bless a bad dating relationship they are in and their friend prays right after instead that "God would give my friend patience and clarity about her relationship."

But there's a different type of prayer shot block that needs to be discussed. I'm talking about people who refuse to pray in public when you go out to dinner as a group. Whether they politely decline or flat out shot block your request that they pray, they make it crystal clear that they won't be doing that. It's the prayer equivalent of switching seats on an airplane because you can't handle the "responsibility" of being in the emergency row.

There are six common ways people get out of praying at dinner:

1. They wait you out.

They quietly put their hands in their lap, in the dinner prayer posture. They make direct eye contact and try Jedi-like mind tricks on you. "You want to pray for this meal." Eventually they hope you will cave and offer thanks. Beware of this move, especially if you are prone to discomfort during silence.

2. They shove food in their mouth the millisecond it hits the table.

Be careful if they choose a food that doesn't go down quick such as soup or mashed potatoes. Bread works best. They'll throw in as big a piece as they can manage without choking. Innocently they will put their hand up to their mouth and grumble "Oh, I forgot to pray." Now prayer is out there on the table (along with all their spittle and crumbs), and you have no choice but to offer thanks. Unless, of course, you have a super-human ability to wait out long awkward pauses.

3. They take a phone call or go to the bathroom

This move is executed right before the food arrives. However, Christian etiquette should demand you wait for their prodigal return and this may only delay, not pass the prayer.

4. They invite the pastor to dinner.

He or she is the pray-er by default because of the deep spiritual wealth that goes with the calling. But is this third wheel (or fifth, in the case of a double date) worth it to get out of prayer awkwardness? WARNING: Pastors are known to employ all of the techniques found in this guide.

5. They have a child pray.

They have not yet developed a sense of prayer-fear in social settings. It's going to be cute no matter what. Plus mom and dad get to show-off what good Christian parents they are. That's a win-win situation right there my friend.

6. They ask the other person to do it.

Doubly effective if they call them out by name. "Mike, would you like to offer a prayer for our meal?" Triply effective if they are a pastor; the other person will feel obliged to give them a break from their day job. I double-dog dare you to be this bold when the check comes.

Am I missing any? How have you passed the prayer? How have you had the prayer passed to you?

(For more great stuff from Joel, check out his site.)

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Let's hang out in Atlanta.

Tomorrow, I'll be speaking during the Dave Ramsey Live event. If you go, follow me on Twitter and we'll connect during one of the breaks.

I'll also be at Catalyst next week. I can't believe it's here already. I love that conference. I can't say enough about how amazing those three days are. From the speakers to the worship, it's a surprisingly intimate time of celebrating God.

Here's where you can find me:

Wednesday, October 6 – 3:30-4:15PM

Lab: Storytelling & Community

I'm doing a 30 minute talk on how important it is to have an active community involved in the story you tell. I'll cover the 3-5 most important things Stuff Christians Like taught me about movements and then we'll do some Q&A. You should come to this lab!

Wednesday Night

Blogger Meetup

This is one of my favorite parts of Catalyst. Over 100 bloggers get together and just hang out. Love seeing friends and catching up. It's open to everyone. Register here.

Thursday – Friday

I'll be doing interviews and some video stuff backstage for Catalyst this year. The site is here. I'll also be hanging out at the Dave Ramsey booth and tent.

I don't know that we're doing any formal meetup for SCL, but follow me on twitter and I'll tell you where I'm at.

And if you see me say hi and I'll give you some buttons! I'll be the dork in the big green backpack.

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