Jon Acuff's Blog, page 66

5 prayers God never answers.

I write a lot about how awesome God is.

I’ve written approximately 4.2 million blog posts about the Prodigal Son story alone.

Today though, I’ve got some bad news.

There are some prayers God NEVER answers.

5 actually.

1. Prayers to beat Candy Crush levels.

I hate exaggerating, but I almost lost my faith on level 65. I don’t know who owns the Candy Crush app, but satan was definitely one of the developers. Regardless, God will not answer your prayer about beating a specific level.

2. Prayers that Chipotle will stop charging for chips.

I used to avoid Chipotle for this very reason. Charging for chips goes against the very fabric of Mexican restaurants. But, years later, and I’m a fan. So is God. He will not fix this for you.

3. Prayers for a part 2 of Newsies.

Wish this would happen. It won’t. Stop praying it. You’re clogging up the prayer waves for the rest of us.

4. Prayers that the person you cut off on the way to church doesn’t attend your church too.

They do. And they are going to park right next to you. It’s going to be awkward. How awkward? Bathsheba being named Bathsheba while she is taking a bath? (What if she had been showering or jacuzzing? Jacuzzisheba?)

5. Prayers that the queso won’t run out.

It will. Into every bowl, a bottom must fall. I hate it. I really do, but all the prayers in the world about heavenly melted cheese will not save us. Quit it.

I’ve prayed all of these before, and they don’t work.

Save your breath.

What prayer do you think God never answers?

 

Adventurers wanted.

I’m looking for a few adventurers.

Comfort zones will be exploded.

Ordinary dreams will be discarded.

Fear will be pummeled behind a weather worn shed.

Risk guaranteed, success not.

Details to come. Sign up here.

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20 Conversations The Bible Left Out

(Here’s a guest post from Stephen Pepper. You can check out his blog here. If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

20 Conversations The Bible Left Out

Have you ever wondered what’s missing from the Bible? There are so many people whose lives are covered over the course of thousands of years in the Bible, millions of situations and conversations will have gone unrecorded.

To try to fill in some of that gap, here are 20 conversations the Bible left out.

Noah: Told you so.

Jonah: And I pray for travelling mercies…

Job: Relax – what’s the worst thing that could happen today?

Eve: Should I wear the green fig leaf or the brown fig leaf?

Lot’s friend: Please could you pass the sa….. Sorry.

David: I’d give Bathsheba a good side hug.

Shadrach, Meshach & Abednego: I’m sorry; we’d prefer not to eat meat. We we’d rather eat Bob, Larry and Jr instead.

Isaac: Um, Dad – this game of “Tie your firstborn son to an altar and hold a knife above his head” doesn’t seem like it’s the most age-appropriate game we could be playing.

Balaam: Your voice doesn’t sound like Eddie Murphy’s.

Abraham: “I have many sons. Many sons have I.” I’m sorry Sarah – the song will never catch on.

Saul / Paul: I’ve just had a real Road To Damascus experience.

The Magi: Our love language is giving gifts.

Person at the feeding of the 5,000: Do you have a gluten-free vegan option?

Noah’s wife: Really Noah? Cockroaches?

Jabez: I wonder if one day someone will write an entire book based on two sentences that I prayed.

John The Baptist: Ooh, that’s a really nice shiny platter – why are you bringing that into a prison?

Solomon: I don’t understand why my 700 wives think I don’t spend enough time with each of them.

Paul: Was it Philippians, Phillippians, Philipians or Phillipians?

Samson: Because I’m worth it.

Adam: What do you mean, why did I call that a hippopotamus? Look at it – it so looks like it should be called a hippopotamus.

Question: What other conversations do you think the Bible didn’t include?

(For more great writing from Stephen, check out his blog here .)

The unwanted gift of solitude.

Before we went on the Start book tour, the guy running it called my wife and asked her what he needed to know about me.

She said, “Jon is an introvert.”

And she’s right. Though my career calls for furious bouts of extroverted action, deep down, I’m an introvert.

I like to be alone.

I like to be quiet.

I like solitude.

But sometimes, that feels like failure.

You run into Christians who are having big, loud, on fire walks with God. You end up thinking maybe your season of quiet is because God is disappointed at you. Maybe you failed somehow. Maybe the silence is punishment.

But then you read the Bible.

Then you realize that often solitude is the doorway to an adventure.

Look at Moses, 40 years of quiet and obscurity before the burning bush.

Look at Joseph, years spent in prison before he ran Egypt.

Look at David, years spent in the fields fighting bears before he fought his giant.

Look at Paul. Talk about solitude, he was literally struck blind and isolated in a way we can’t understand.

Look at Jesus, the first thing that happens to him after being baptized is 40 days in the desert alone.

Is solitude always fun? Nope. Even if your an introvert it can be difficult, but don’t assume it’s punishment.

It just might be an invitation.

Jesus, superhero.

My favorite thing about this picture is how focused and friendly the Hulk looks.

That green dude is into some Jesus!

Hulk Smash?

Nope, Hulk study hermeneutics!

Things you can’t do when you’re not leading worship.

A few years ago, my friends Tripp & Tyler made a video called “Things you can’t do when you’re not in a pool.”

It was a hilarious look at all the silly things you can do in a pool that would look bizarre if you did them downtown on the sidewalk. (Like spitting water at your friends.)

That concept got me thinking and I realized that there are a lot of things worship leaders can do that no one else can do. In fact, I think there are 5 things you can’t do when you’re not leading worship.

1. Tell people to scoot in.

Worship leaders are constantly telling people to scoot to the middle to make room for other people. Try that one next time you go to the movies.

2. Ask people to start clapping.

That’d be a fun one. Next time you’re mowing your lawn, ask your neighbors to clap along.

3. Start singing in the middle of a normal sentence.

Worship leaders love “talk singing.” That’s when they’ll say, “This weekend, me and my wife were having coffee. I just realized everyone needs compassion, love that’s never failing.” In the audience you think, “Wait, we were just having a coffee and now we’re in a magical song. So tricky!” Try that at work today in a meeting. “I think the fourth quarter numbers will be great and we are the champions my friend.”

4. Ask people to stand up.

Do that at the bank, see how long it takes until they think they’re getting robbed. Let me know how that one works out.

5. Close your eyes while talking.

Often, worship leaders will close their eyes during a particularly moving part of a song. Try that in the middle of a normal conversation today. And not for just a few seconds. Hold it. Really hold it.

Those are my five, but I know you’ve got some of your own.

What is something you can’t do if you’re not leading worship?

 

The little girl’s tattoo.

My wife and I spent Thanksgiving in Pensacola, Florida a few years ago. Since our kids go to bed awesomely early, 6:30 eastern, we were stuck in the hotel by ourselves at 5:30 central time every night. There are few things as depressing as sitting on a bed for five straight hours in a Sleep Inn hotel room. In addition to suck-your-soul-out fluorescent lights, the room had this potpourri of bad smells. It was part smoke, part cat, part old Hardee’s hamburger and a smidge of feet.

It was admittedly a good time to catch up on conversation with my wife, but after a few straight days of staring at each other, we were both a little stir crazy. One night, I walked down to the BP gas station that was beside the hotel.

Behind the counter at the gas station was a sad woman in her mid-thirties. She looked tired, like maybe life was hard for her a decade sooner than it should have been. Like maybe she didn’t get to be a kid long enough and all that adulthood was starting to catch up on her.

On the outside of her hand was a small greenish gray tattoo of an X. I was curious about what it meant, so I asked her the significance. Here is her response:

“Oh that? That doesn’t mean anything. My mom gave me that one night when she was drunk.”

That was a kind of weird answer, so I asked her how old she was when it happened. She scrunched up her face for a second in concentration and then said, “I think I was 13.”

When I was 13, I was really concerned about my clothes. I was worried that my mom would buy me a Knights of the Round Table shirt instead of Polo. Or that I would have Reeboks instead of Nikes. These were the kinds of things I focused on, because at that age, kids would tease you for the smallest thing.

But what about showing up to school one Monday with a jagged, bloody green X tattooed on your hand? What was that experience like? How would kids react to that? Didn’t it hurt when her mom gave her that? She was drunk, writing on her daughter with a shaky hand and a hot, homemade needle.

I thought about that the rest of the trip and was considering writing about the marks that our parents give us. They’re not all as obvious as that, and many are actually positive, but I realized that was a narrow way to look at it, because it’s not just parents that give us marks. It’s coworkers and spouses and friends and strangers. And when we don’t know they’re there, sometimes they actually stick.

A few years ago, someone asked me to review a memo at work that included some disparaging remarks about my writing ability. There on page 4 was a giant circle, with a big red line through it, that said “Fluff” and a sentence that promised a coworker was going to eliminate my fluff writing. The person that handed me the memo didn’t realize it was about me. They wanted me to focus on a completely different section of the document, but my eye caught some criticism about the company’s writer, and since I was the only writer there, I couldn’t help but read what was written.

As I walked back to my desk, I was crushed. I felt like my complete lack of value had not only been noticed but captured in a memo. In the quietness of my head though, I felt like God popped in and said, “Hey, that memo doesn’t get to define who you are. I do. And I say you are my son.” I was blown away and, instead of spiraling into despair and shame over that memo, I went back to my desk and wrote what was probably the best thing I’ve ever written for that company.

I wish that single event was enough to forever shake off the bad marks I’ve got on me, but it isn’t. I still doubt. I still believe the lies of the marks. I still, like lots of other Christians, forget who I am. I still give other people’s words too much power. I don’t have it all figured out. Instead, more than anything, life feels like it’s been a long series of believing that I am not who other people define me to be, I am a son of God. I am God’s work of art. And the more I have been open to believing that, the more He’s shown me it’s true.

What I’ve learned over the years is that an experience can’t change that. My relation to God is not a simple little mark. It is not a big tattoo or a little sticker; it is who I am. I cannot completely cover that up or blot it out with failure. The prodigal son tries, he completely messes up his life. But, more importantly, he shows how sometimes the worst marks are the ones we give ourselves. “I’m a bad husband. I’m a terrible employee. I’m ugly.”

These are the words we sometimes hear from ourselves, and they are the kind of words the prodigal son tries to say to his father. (I have written about this story so many times it’s getting a bit ridiculous, but I love the lessons it has for us.) When the prodigal son rehearses his homecoming speech, he decides to conclude it with, “make me like one of your hired men.” That was the last thing he was going to say. But when he speaks to his father, that is the one thing he is not allowed to speak. The rest of his speech comes off without a hitch. “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”

These words are delivered without incident, but he doesn’t ever get to say “make me like one of your hired men.” Why is that?

Why are those eight words left out? You can certainly read that as just accidental, that regardless of the words, the father was going to cut him off before he finished speaking. And maybe that’s right. But when I read that, I read a father stopping a son from saying something the father would never do. The father would never make him like one of his hired men. He would never give the son a new mark of slavery. He would never call him employee instead of son. So he doesn’t even let those words out. He stops him because no new mark would be given that day. The old truth, the one at the core of the son, still holds true.

Despite the pigpen and the prostitutes, the dirt and the deception, the father doesn’t see a hired man.

He sees a son.

He sees his child.

And that changes everything.

Question:

What’s a mark you need to let go of?

(This is a throwback post that originally appeared on SCL a few years ago.)

The most interesting people in the world.

Often, the comments on the posts I write are funnier than the actual post.

I think that is awesome.

Today, I think we could create a hilarious comment string.

What’s the topic?

Jesus, the most interesting man in the world.

Have you seen those Dos Equis commercials? (It’s OK to say yes. Jesus turned water into wine.)

In them, a James Bond-type guy in a ruffled suit does amazing things while the voiceover discusses his awesomeness.

Here are some statements they make about him:

The police often interview him, just because they find him interesting.

His organ donor card lists his beard.

Sharks have a week about him.

He went to a psychic, to warn her.

He’s a lover not a fighter. But he’s also a fighter so don’t get any ideas.

He once punched a magician.

His blood smells like cologne.

In all, the commercials are really funny.

Let’s do the same thing, using people from the Bible.

For example:

Jesus

“He sometimes takes shortcuts, across the water.”

“He never brings wine as a wedding gift. He turns water into it.”

David

“He brought a rock to a giant fight. And won.”

Now your turn.

Who are some of the most interesting people in the Bible?

Modesty Talks

(It’s guest post Friday! Here’s one from Kristin Weber. You can find out more about Kristin on her website.  You can also follow her on Twitter. If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Modesty Talks

I was taught from a very young age that modesty is an outward reflection of what Christ is doing inwardly. It’s figuring out exactly what that ”outward reflection” should look like that causes some robust dialogue within church communities. (Shocking, since Christians rarely disagree on anything.)

I grew up in the conservative home school world, where the “chastity button” (top button) on blouses got fastened and swimsuits included oversized t-shirts and long gym shorts. When I was instructed as a kid to run away if anyone tried to touch me in my bathing suit area, I was like, “so basically if any one tries to touch me at all, run.” (To which my dad responded, “yes.”)

I attended my first official modesty talk around age 13, when we started getting our clothes from worldly places like Coldwater Creek and Eddie Bauer. Up to that point, my mom sewed most of our clothes. (Did anyone else’s mom make them a lady bug jumper complete with a lady bug blouse, lady bug buttons, and a lady bug headband special for their piano recital? Just mine? Thought so. That’s why my mom is better.)

Since then I’ve seen numerous approaches to the modesty “issue.” Here are three of the most memorable:

1. The Symposium – A lady in our church community who had four teenage sons hosted a symposium about what girls could do to help boys keep their minds pure. The discussion was revealing. As a general rule, if you can tell they have a body, it’s too tight. Other questionable clothing items include, but are not limited to, the following:

Tank tops: Too much arm.

V-necks: Too easy for guys to imagine what’s down the V.

Blouses: Even with the chastity button done, sometimes the gap between buttons revealed the no-zone.

Burkha: Too much eye. (This isn’t a joke. One exasperated mother finally asked, “What do we have our daughters wear? A burkha so only their eyes are showing?” A dad replied jokingly, “Sometimes all it takes is the eyes.” All heck broke loose.)

2. The “Fashion Show” – This is usually done at camps after the boys and girls are separated for their respective “talks.” (Someday I’m going to cross dress and see what goes on over on the guy’s side.) Girls model a variety of “inappropriate” clothing items while a leader narrates what’s wrong with each of them. It’s typically followed up with an “appropriate hug demonstration” (side hugs all around!), and then they are released back into the wild to make awkward eye contact with the boys.

3. The Fear Mongerer – This is a well-intentioned but extreme approach that often requires some damage control. The speech giver usually starts off with something like, “modesty isn’t just a virtue, it’s a crime deterrent.” They talk about how exposed skin turns decent men into animals.  Therefore if we’ll all agree to wear denim rompers, we can help keep prisons clear. A woman once told me that wearing tank tops in public increased my chances of getting raped. (I asked her what study she pulled her statistics from. She said she’d get back to me. It’s been four years so I’m guessing she lost my e-mail.)

These are just a few of many. The modesty talks will continue until Christ or culottes return.

Also, if I ever have a daughter, I probably won’t be quite so strict with her wardrobe. After all, with the way the world is going it won’t matter what she wears. She’s never leaving her tower.

To keep up with Kristin, check out her website!

Finally!

Tired of feeling like you hate sweet baby Jesus because you don’t have anything to put in the offering basket since you direct deposit your tithe?

Concerned that maybe your pew neighbors or row radius doesn’t know you’re still down with the king?

Exhausted by staring with shame into that offering basket with nothing to give since you gave online?

Fear not, my friend!

Your days of silent agony are over!

My friend Ben recently showed me what one church is doing.

Finally!