Jon Acuff's Blog, page 88

Why Christians Love to Talk Smack

(It’s guest post Friday! Here’s one from Margaret Feinberg. You can check out her blog here.  You can also follow her on Twitter @mafeinberg.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Pulling into a church parking lot, I often find myself groaning at the bold, brazen, and boisterous declarations people make on the back of their cars.

There’s always the classic, “My child is an honor student” and the retort, “Your honor student sells bumper stickers!”

But I’m amazed when Christians really get into it. Like the Jesus fish stomping Darwin. Or the “God is not a Democrat” and “God is not a Republican” that gain popularity every four years. Or a church in Denver whose bumper stickers read, “My church can kick your church’s a–!”

Why do churchgoers place hard-to-peel-off statements on the back of their vehicles?

Because Christians love to talk smack!

Now there are a few arguably good reasons to talk smack if you’re a Christian:

1. Christian smack comes from knowing we have the biggest, baddest daddy around. Our daddy slings comets, paints the skies, and flips the switch to the best light shows in the universe. Our daddy made it all, owns it all, infuses it all, and holds it all together. Smackety, smack, take that.

2. Christian smack comes from knowing we’re on the winning team. Reading the Bible is a lot like Tivo—you can fast forward and see who wins. You can surf through scenes of the winners, the overcomers, and even catch glimpses of the rockin’ after-party. Knowing the victor before the game perpetuates a lot of smack talk.

The problem is, whenever we start using Christian smack, it’s usually not too long until someone calls us on it.

That’s right. We have to back up our smack or take the flack.

This isn’t new. An Old Testament prophet, Ezra, loved to talk prophetic smack about God. He boldly proclaimed, “The hand of our God is favorably disposed to all those who seek Him, but His power and His anger are against all those who forsake Him” (Ezra 8:22)

Boom. Bam. Slam.

The only problem was that, soon after He made this God-smack declaration, Ezra had to go on a dangerous journey. And because of his smack, he couldn’t ask the king for troops or protection. Ezra had to make the treacherous trip the old-fashioned way—by trusting God. He prayed, fasted, and begged God to back up His smack-talk.

Ezra was wonderstruck by the results. And the rest is Biblical history. (See Ezra 8:21-32)

So it’s okay to talk God-smack, but you better be ready to live it. Take that, yo.

When does Christian smack get the best of you or someone you know?

My friend, Margaret Feinberg, has a new book that’s just releasing now called Wonderstruck: Awaken to the Nearness of God. It’s the kind of book that will turn your prayer life upside down, rekindle your passion for God, and make you want to dive deeper into the Scripture. And that’s a smack-free endorsement. Check out the book and the killer offer (over $300 in free stuff through December 18) she’s got going on here.

Help pick out the cover of my new book!

In April, my new book comes out!

We’re planning some wildly fun stuff and that starts today.

There are three options on the table right now for the cover design.

Can you please spare 12 seconds and in this survey tell me which one you think is best? Which one jumps out at you? Which one would you pick up at the airport?

Take a look below and then click here to answer the one question survey. Thanks!

Option 1

Option 2

Option 3

How hipster is your worship leader?

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How many points does owning a “city chicken” earn your worship leader?

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Find out today!

How Christians get arrogant.

The other day, a friend of mine made a comment about an author. He wrote:

“I’ll say he’s sloppy at best when it comes to sound doctrine and theology.”

I think the first half of that thought is awesome.

I think the author he was describing is sloppy at best.

I think I’m sloppy at best.

I think you’re sloppy at best.

I think there’s not a person on the planet who isn’t sloppy at best.

The longer I’m a Christian, the more I realize how big and mysterious and boundless God is. The idea that I can remove the “sloppiness” from my limited human understanding of him is comical. The idea that, at 36 or 56 or 106, I could reach a point in my life where I have him all figured out is silly.

In anything, the Christians I know with the deepest, most mature faiths tell me, “The closer I got to God over the decades, the more I realized how very little I knew about his wonderfulness and how very desperately I needed him more than ever.”

The fear in admitting faith is sloppy is that you’ll lose all sense of truth, and everything will become relative. As if admitting you haven’t figured God out completely is a single step away from “All religions basically say the same thing. God is too big to figure out so let’s not even try. Anything goes.”

But the more we fear that extreme example and refuse to have sloppy discussions, the more we invite something poisonous into our faith – arrogance.

My friend might not have had that in his words. But others do when they draw manmade boundaries around a boundless God.

As if any of us will get to heaven and have God say, “You got it all right. Every inch of who I am was perfectly understood by you while you were alive. That time in Isaiah 55 when I said, ‘My thoughts are not your thoughts,’ I meant that verse for everyone but you. You nailed it.”

Even the disciples, who lived with Jesus, were constantly getting it wrong.

I love what happens in Luke 9:

As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. And he sent messengers on ahead, who went into a Samaritan village to get things ready for him; but the people there did not welcome him, because he was heading for Jerusalem. When the disciples James and John saw this, they asked, “Lord, do you want us to call fire down from heaven to destroy them?” But Jesus turned and rebuked them. Then he and his disciples went to another village.

I can’t help but imagine what Jesus wanted to say:

“Wait, what? What’s your solution? I’ve been preaching ‘turn the other cheek.’ And in Luke 9, or what you might call ‘Last Tuesday,’ I told you that if a town won’t welcome you, ‘shake the dust off your feet when you leave their town, as a testimony against them.’ What was the solution you just recommended? Call fire down from heaven to destroy them? OK, just checking. How did you ever think that was the right response?”

And then, the verse tells us he rebuked them.

If we were honest, I think a lot of us deserve a rebuke in that same way. When we add things to Scripture, when we put works as a means to grace, when we create rules in order to feel in control, I think Jesus wants to rebuke us.

Does this mean we should not study?

Does this mean we should not call ourselves to learn theology?

Does this mean we should not sharpen one another with truth?

Does this mean there are not doctrinal truths we must hold fast to?

Does this mean there are not slippery slopes that must be avoided?

Of course not.

It means we have to be honest.

To admit that we are learning, but we are sloppy.

Fortunately, we have a God who is not.

This is what churches in the UK do with husbands.

A friend from the UK sent me this photo.

First thing I did was look up the word “Creche.” My fear was it was similar to “quiche,” and in England they were turning husbands into breaded lunch foods. Pretty reasonable fear if you think about it. Turns out, I was wrong.

It means “day care.”

So, at this church, which must be near some stores, wives can drop off their husbands while they go shopping in peace.

I wonder if they do it like we do Sunday School at my church. When I drop my kids off, I get a bracelet with a number on it. If my kids misbehave, I win the bad parent lottery and a number is displayed during church on the “screen o’ shame” indicating that I must retrieve them post-haste. Is that what they are doing in the UK? Hard to say.

But that’s not what I want to talk about today. I’d much rather discuss these two questions with you:

1. Ladies, if you could drop your husband off at church while you shopped, would you?

2. Everybody, what would that drop-off spot in America be like? I’m thinking some sort of Messiah-based man cave. Part Philippians, part Fantasy Football. How would you design the American version of the “Husband Creche?”

10 people who need this for Christmas.

It’s Christmas season and it’s time to buy some gifts.

There are 10 people you might know who could use a copy of my last book, Quitter.

Scan this list to make sure no one you know is on it.

10 people who need Quitter.

1. The friend who doesn’t have a clue what his dream is but knows he’s not doing it right now and wants to figure it out.

2. The husband with a wife who has always believed in him more than he’s believed in himself.

3. A stay-at-home mom who has had a dream for a few years and needs a push over the edge to start it.

4. The college student who doesn’t want to waste a single day at the wrong job when they graduate.

5. The dad who has a thousand good ideas but doesn’t know which one to actually focus on.

6. The unemployed neighbor who needs a new start and some new hope.

7. The girl who was told by her parents that her dream “would never work” and believed it for too long.

8. The 37-year-old woman who has been running from a dream for years but that dream refuses to keep quiet, and it’s time to really try it.

9. The friend who is stuck.

10. You.

Help someone you know close the gap between their day job and their dream job in 2013.

Give someone you know a copy of Quitter this year. Here is where to get it on Amazon.

Not knowing if you’re supposed to sing along with the special music.

I’ve got a dilemma. A problem. A pickle, if I could use some rather salty language.

The problem is something that is happening to me each week at church.

You see, we have “special music” at the end of each service. Someone ridiculously talented, because we live in Nashville, will sing a closing song before dismissing the service. I love it. It’s one of my favorite parts of Sunday morning. (Jesus is my most favorite part in case you were thinking about starting your week by Jesus Juking me.)

But there’s a problem.

The problem is that they show the words to the song up on the screen. Line by line they show us the words to the song, which makes me feel like maybe I should sing along. Am I supposed to be doing backup on this song? Like Sheryl Crow singing backup for Michael Jackson? Is that my role here? I’m supposed to harmonize like Boys II Men or ABC, at the playground? Ya know? Iesha!

Or are the words up on the screen so I’ll understand them? Maybe they’re just supposed to be informational. Maybe the church is concerned that some worship leader is going to Eddie Vedder the song and in the crowd we’ll all think, “Did he just swing, ‘Iweana gonna tikka wanna?’” So the lyrics are shown up there so we’ll know that actually he said, “He gives and takes away.”

Because I’ll jump in if I need to. I’ll even bring a tambourine if that’s where things are headed. BYOT? All day son, all day!

Am I the only one who struggles with this?

Have you ever felt the same way during church?

 

 

 

Synchronized Ushering

(It’s guest post Friday! Here’s one from Josh Daffern. You can read his blog here.  You can also follow him on Twitter @joshdaffern.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Synchronized Ushering

The world of ushering is itself an art form: the subtlety, the unspoken solemnity, the majesty of it all. Many ignorantly focus on the type of the offering plate itself (KFC bucket vs. oversized cloth-covered dinner plate vs. two-pronged velour bag). What captivates me is the movement of the ushers themselves. Being raised in church, I’ve seen just about every type of ushering move there is:

The Jolted Usher – This is the usher whose only real reason to come to church is to get to pass the offering plates. It’s the high point of his week. A quick jab or poke is needed to wake him up and let him know it’s time to do his thing.

The Noobie – This is the replacement usher who’s called on at the last minute because Brother Bob decided to go fishing that day. The noobie shows his true colors quickly as he accidentally breaks the cardinal rule and passes a second plate down the same row. It will be another few years in the D League before he’s called back up.

The Wave-Off – This is the awkward moment when there’s only one person sitting on a row. A delicate dance is had between usher and member, where they decide through gesture and eye contact whether it’s really necessary to send a plate down a pew with one person who probably isn’t going to tithe anyway.

The Walker – I loved being this person growing up. The walker is the person who gets to stand up and walk the offering plate from one end of the pew to the other end (since there’s a big gaping hole of empty space in between).  Not only did it let me imagine that I was in the elite world of ushering (even for a moment), it allowed me to stretch my legs and gird myself for the coming onslaught of the sermon.

The Coronation – I was in a church for a few years where, at the end of every offering, Sister Beulah would crank up the organ and blast out “Were the whole realm of nature mine,” indicating that we were to stand in honor of the ushers, now coming down to the front like Magi bringing their gifts to baby Jesus.

I thought I’d seen it all, and then I experienced something that took my breath away. I worked in a larger traditional church with a sanctuary that sat over 2,000. I instinctively understood that the offering would be a long, drawn-out process, as the ushers covered so much real estate. Not so.

Synchronized Ushering – Halfway through the first service, no sign of the ushers. They did an offertory prayer, still no ushers. I thought their union had decided to strike for better wages. No ushers to be seen. And then, halfway through the first verse of the special music, through some type of telekinesis that I still can’t explain, all the ushers magically stood up at the same time, throughout the room, instantly at their post. This was my first experience with synchronized ushering, and it was magnificent to behold.

I watched them for weeks, trying to discern the magic of their timing. Was it Morse code? Did the worship leader lift his left pant leg like a quarterback signaling a man-in-motion? Did the light operator flash a stage light to let the ushers know when to rise? I never knew. I simply gazed in wonder at the world of synchronized ushering, knowing that these men were a cut above everyone else. Everyone else just played at ushering. These men lived it. They were the Navy Seals of ushers, and I was privileged to be in their presence.

QUESTION: What experiences have you had with the world of ushering?

For more great writing from Josh, check out his blog!

Leg dropping elves. (Or the real meaning of Christmas.) A Christmas SCL Classic.

A few years ago, someone gave my family an “Elf on the Shelf.” If you’re not familiar with it, it’s essentially a small elf in a box and a book. The book tells you that you’re supposed to hide the elf each night during the holiday season and let your kids find it. It’s magic or a messenger of Santa or something. It was wildly popular last year and is probably continuing to sell well this Christmas too.

But as I started to think about the whole “real meaning of Christmas” debate and “is Santa bad” discussion that you almost are required by law to have if you’re a Christian blogger, I started to think about that elf. He was just sitting there with a smug look on his face perched on the fireplace mantle looming over our nativity scene below on the hearth. Instead of the traditional Santa vs. Jesus discussion, I began to imagine what would happen if that elf ever ran into the characters from the nativity scene. What would that conversation look like? I present you:

Elf on the shelf meets the characters from the nativity scene.

Wise Man 1: “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who are you?

Elf on the Shelf: “I’m the Elf on the Shelf.”

Wise Man 1: “I can see that. It’s right there on your box. I can read, kind of goes along with the territory. I’m a ‘wise man.’ But what are you doing here?”

Elf on the Shelf: “I came to spread holiday cheer and tell people about the magic of Santa Claus.”

Wise Man 1: “That sentence is so wrong on so many levels I don’t even know where to begin. First of all, please help me understand what ‘holiday cheer’ is. Is that some sort of glitter? Like a pixy dust or giggle spray or other elf razzle dazzle?

Wise Man 2: “Slow down Myrrh man. No need to get sarcastic.”

Wise Man 1: “You stay out of this Gold Guy and don’t call me Myrrh man. It’s ‘M&M.’ No one knows what Myrrh even is. I sound like some sort of under the sea creature. I knew I should have brought the gold. Everyone loves you. My gift is judged as slightly better than paprika or cinnamon. Awesome.”

Wise Man 3: “Myrrh man, Christmas is not about the gifts we give, it’s first and foremost about the gift we received. Jesus Christ.”

Wise Man 1: “I know I know, Frankincense Fellow, it’s just that you don’t understand the pressure I’m under with the Myrrh reputation. At least your gift sounds like Frankenstein and is easy to remember. When people say my gift, they never know where to finish the word, they always just kind of trail off and say, Mryhhhhhhhh. But this isn’t about me, this is about this punk elf.”

Elf on the Shelf: “I’m Elf on the Shelf.”

Wise Man 1: “Here you go again. There’s no shelf in the nativity scene and therefore no elf. I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you. The good news is I’m wearing my traveling robes and won’t be able to tune you up myself. The bad news is the shepherds are always up for a beat down.”

Shepherd 1: “What’s going on?”

Wise Man 1: “This Peter Pan looking doll over here is trying to distract us from the birth of Christ. He’s trying to steal some of sweet baby Jesus’ thunder.”

Shepherd 2: “Oh, that’s not happening on my watch. It’s on like Donkey Kong.”

Elf on the Shelf: “On like Donkey Kong? Isn’t that violent? Can’t we all just giggle and watch my Will Ferrell movie, Elf?

Shepherd 3: “Agreed, tossing you out of this nativity scene like a bouncer at a bar is violent, but people overestimate how clean and well behaved we shepherds were back in the day. We were like longshoreman. Think of us less as caretakers of sheep and more as Pastoral Hooligans. We live under the stars and wrestle bears for fun. David was a shepherd and he cut Goliath’s head off.”

Elf on the Shelf: “Gulp.”

Shepherd 1: “Don’t worry we’re not going to do that to you. We are going to bounce you out of town like a super ball though. Drummer boy, hit me up with my theme song.”

Elf on the Shelf: “Wait, the drummer boy wasn’t at the birth of Christ either. Why isn’t he getting the bum rush?”

Shepherd 1: “Because Jesus is funky and loves a good beat. Plus, every superhero needs a theme song.”

Wise Man 1: “You’re a superhero now? How’d that happen? I must have missed that in the Bible.”

Shepherd 1: “Easy Myrrh-lin, the magician of questionable gifts. According to Matthew, you guys didn’t even show up at the manger. And at least you have a name, I’m just lumped in as a “shepherd.” I’ve got no identity. I had to create my own, with a theme song.

Wise Man 1: “Good grief!”

Elf on the Shelf: “That’s from Charlie Brown’s Christmas!”

Shepherd 1: “You’re still here? Let’s do this thing.”

(Commence elf beat down.)

I’m not sure if that’s exactly how the great elf/nativity scene clash of 2008 happened, but it’s how it happened in my head.

Question:

Does your family hide the Elf on a Shelf?

(Post originally appeared on SCL on December 8, 2008.)

Fame is a drug and it’s never enough.

Turns out that if you chase “enough” outside of God, you never catch it.

Enough followers on Twitter, enough blog readers, enough books sold, enough money made, enough friends…the specifics of the chase don’t really matter.

Enough is elusive. Just when you think you’ve caught it, it moves again.

In this 3-minute video, I talk about how easy it is to wreck your life chasing enough and how that happened to me in the pursuit of fame. (Video was shot at the Catalyst Conference.)

Question:

Have you ever chased some form of “enough?”