Jon Acuff's Blog, page 91

Dear IT, I owe you an apology.

Dear IT,

First and foremost, allow me to establish a little geek cred.

My favorite book is Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time.

I knew what the phrase “Winter is coming” meant long before HBO did.

I occasionally say “Bazinga!”

I know SCRUM and agile and how to run a sprint for two weeks.

I grew up on Daredevil and like to pretend it was never turned into a movie.

Sometimes, at random moments of the day, I’ll think about Jar Jar Binks and get mad.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I need to confess something.

I need to apologize because, you see, Christians aren’t supposed to lie. The Bible is clear about that one. There’s no fuzziness about that particular idea. Getting angry and causing a fuss? We kind of have to pretend that whatever we’re angry about is exactly like the situation where Jesus ran through the temple with a whip. Anger takes some creativity to get around.

Lying? That one is hard to argue with.

That’s a no brainer. Simple as sin.

Which brings me to every phone call I’ve ever had with IT.

Whenever I call you with a computer problem, you always ask me the same thing:

“Have you rebooted it?”

At which point I say, with mild disgust that you would think I forgot to do such a simple thing, “Of course!”

But the truth is, I haven’t. I never restart my computer before I call you. That doesn’t even make my top 5 things to do when my computer breaks, which are:

1. Ask anyone sitting within earshot if their computer is broken too. There’s strength in numbers, and I’m always hoping it’s a network issue, not a Jon issue.

2. Refuse to look at the list of common computer problems most companies have conveniently placed on the Intranet.

3. Blow on my keyboard like I used to on my copy of Contra for the Nintendo. (The 80s & 90s were very dusty decades.)

4. Ask the people sitting near me to “Please double check you can get online right now. Are you sure you’re not having problems with the internet?”

5. Call you directly, thus completely bypassing the very clearly communicated way to file an IT ticket online.

Then you ask if I’ve rebooted my computer and I say “of course!” But I haven’t. Instead, I usually try to drag out the words “Offfffff Courrrrrssssseee” long enough for me to turn off my computer while I am answering your question about turning off my computer because I feel like that makes it a little true. Or kind of true. Or sort of true. Whatever one means “Not wicked bad.”

But, as far as I can tell, there’s no “kind of true” listed in the Bible, so I’m sorry.

Please forgive me.

And perhaps more importantly, when iTunes does one of its billion updates next week, please help me with that. It says I need an admin password, and you are the keeper of those.

Question:

Be honest: Have you ever lied to IT?

Is this a political Jesus Juke?

I say “yes.” What say you? (What’s a Jesus Juke? This.)

Fact-Checking the Pastor

(It’s guest post Friday! Here’s one from Jeff Postlewaite. You can check out his blog here.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Fact-Checking the Pastor

I’m pretty sure John Wesley never had to worry about some smart-aleck college student saying “You know that story you told last week?  Well, the interwebs say it’s a lie!”

I’ll say it—the internet has ruined the art of making up a good sermon illustration. Even into the early-90s, pastors could repeat heart-breaking stories with utmost confidence that their sources were sound. The intent was pure, the message strong, and the audience incapable of proving otherwise…and then along came Google.

As recently as a decade ago, the pastor knew his stories were safe until people could get home to their PCs, and even then there was a good chance that they would forget what to search for while waiting for Windows to boot. Now smartphones have given parishioners the ability to fact-check before the illustration is even complete.

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who is opening a mobile browser the instant I hear: “In 1859, a tightrope walker named Blondin…” But there are always prying eyes noticing that you have left the YouVersion app and are now speed-reading a Wikipedia article.

As someone who has been involved in the art of illustration fact-checking since Blackberrys were cool, I feel it is my responsibility to help the rest of you who may not know the finer points of fact-checking (a.k.a. “testing the spirits”):

Preparation:

Choose a seat near the church’s wireless access point. Your church doesn’t have open access WiFi? See? They’re trying to hide some faulty information.
Map the auditorium’s 3G and 4G coverage. This may take weeks of wondering around acting like you are introducing yourself to visitors before the service, but it will be worth it. People might start describing you as “the wireless cartologist”, “a 3G Magellan”, or “that crazy guy who is always holding up his phone and muttering to himself. Oh no! Here he comes! Go the other way!”
If possible, get a job on the media team. This will give you access to computers and full-size browsers during the worship service. WARNING: You will lose your position on the team and possibly your church membership when the Snopes article disproving the Pastor’s latest and greatest story pops up on the screen behind him.

Searching without getting caught:

Don’t feel the need to fact-check everything. The worship leader tells a story about his adorable Pekingese chasing an even more adorable baby robin on Easter morning? Yeah, he probably made it up, but you aren’t going to be able to prove it. Let it go.
Don’t look skeptical, look scholarly. Nod your head in agreement and try to appear studious as you switch from the Blue Letter Bible app to your browser. With any luck, those sitting around you will think you are doing a search of a Greek word used in the main text.
Like the overweight trainer on Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out always told Little Mac, “Stick and move.” The longer you search, the better chance you have of getting caught. Look up a few quick facts then get back to your Bible app.
Be willing to accept defeat. Sometimes that outrageous story is true. Sometimes it really happened. Sometimes Google has documented it. Sometimes tears are a good way to clean a touchscreen.

Unfortunately, we Google gurus are becoming obsolete. Pastors are on to us and are doing their own research ahead of time recognizing that we demand truth and accuracy. I’m sure it’s not just to avoid the lectures in the lobby.

Have you ever fact-checked an illustration during the sermon?

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

One Pez to Rule Them All

When I saw the Pez dispensers below at a Wal-Mart the other day I thought 11 things:

1. Thanks for not telling me this existed.

I thought we were close. I thought we were doing life together. I thought we’d come a long way baby. (I think this post just got all “Virginia Slimmy.”) Little heads up next time.

2. Could you really eat a Pez delivered via Smeagol?

I probably could but I’d be muttering, “My precious” each time I had one.

3. Would you only put red Pez in the Gimli container?

I would, but I probably respect red beards more than you.

4. Don’t some of the hobbits kind of look like the Monkees or the Beatles?

5. If your friend asked for a Pez how many times would you grab the Gandalf one and yell “You shall not pass?”

6. How many more Pez does the Gandalf hold than Frodo? I feel like it’s probably 14 vs. 9.

7. How unhappy does Aragorn look that you’re eating Pez? And you want to be a Ranger of the North? You think Rangers eat Pez? Think again.

8. Could Legolas’ hair be more immaculate? It looks like he’s probably got some sort of Elvin hair band on.

9. I wish they had a “Treebeard” Pez dispenser that held 184 Pez.

10. Once again, one of the best characters in the books, Tom Bombadil, got the shaft.

11. How come the first one has a terrifying Mount Doom kind of option and the second one doesn’t?

That’s what I thought when I saw this.

How about you?

How do you feel about Lord of Rings Pez Dispenser Collection?

 

 

 

Why are Christians such jerks?

Recently a friend of mine started living for the Lord.

After a year of sharing his faith vocally, we had coffee and he told me something he found surprising.

He said that in chess, the pawn pieces are used to advance the more important pieces. They go forward and sacrifice themselves to create opportunities for the Queen, King and Bishop. He thought of himself as a pawn, trying to actively serve the needs of others and serve the kingdom, clear that life isn’t about him.

He said the biggest surprise though was that the more he served and lived a life for Christ, the more he felt attacked. But not by other people, by other Christians. He was confused because he’s never seen a King attack its own pawn in a game of chess. He’d never seen a Bishop take out its own pawn, but the more time he spent in church, the more he got attacked by the people who were supposed to be his fellow brothers and sisters in Christ.

I started to think about that because it’s an issue I keep seeing come up.

A pastor once said, “Nobody is as mean as Christians who are being mean for Jesus.”

I also realized that in my own life I fear sharing difficult ideas less with non-Christians than I do with Christians. Of the two crowds, in the last four years, I’ve experienced much harsher hate from Christians than I have non-Christians.

Why is that?

Why does that happen?

Why are we Christians the worst?

Because we’re new.

God is not done with us yet.

Salvation is not the same thing as sanctification.

We’re all just getting started.

But when someone says they are a “Christian,” you don’t look at them that way. You tend to assume they will be grace-filled, love-driven, servant-minded beacons of awesomeness. That would be like asking someone who had taken karate for a year if they were a black belt. Or asking a first-year medical student if they were ready to do a heart transplant.

And those are clear, tangible things that can be learned.

Those aren’t matters of the soul. Those aren’t deep, dark mysterious matters of the heart.

How long does soul transformation take? How long do you give that process?

Most of us assume it happens the moment you become a Christian, but it doesn’t. We’ve got a long way to go.

Why are Christians such jerks?

Because people are jerks.

And then they become Christians and become less of a jerk. And hopefully less of a jerk next year and the year after that and the year after that, as their minds are renewed.

They aren’t perfect. Not even close. Despite a loud, clear call to love others, we mess that up. And then we ask for forgiveness and cling to the need we have for the Savior of a thousand second chances.

And then we try again.

How do we fix this problem? The horrible reputation Christians have the world over? I’m not sure, but I’m a pretty simple guy, so I do have one pretty simple idea.

From here on out, when you meet people, tell them you are a “new Christian.” On your Twitter account the bio should read “new Christian.” In conversations, if someone asks, you are a “new Christian.”

Don’t say, “Christian.” I want you to say “new Christian” because you are not done. Even if you’re 80, you have barely begun. If our lives are told against the mosaic of eternity, we are all new. We all have so much to learn. There is so much shaping ahead.

And when we step into culture and proclaim ourselves as Christians, we create the impression that we are finished. That we are no longer petty or spiteful or angry or jealous or gossipy.

We are.

We are jerks.

But we are new. And we will ask forgiveness for the times when our hateful actions paint a false picture of a loving God. We don’t mean to, but people make so many mistakes when they are new.

And we are still new.

I’m sorry if you’ve had a horrible experience with a Christian. We don’t have a horrible God, but sometimes how I act would lead you to believe so.

He’s actually really loving.

He’s crazy about you.

He’s got a wild, passionate heart.

Even for jerks like me.

Question:

Has a Christian ever been a jerk to you?

Halloween Hating.

A few years ago, at the first house we visited on Halloween night, my two-year-old daughter McRae walked inside the minute the door was opened. Before the 75-year-old man at the door could react, she had juked passed him and was deep into his living room casing the joint for candy.

In her defense, Halloween is kind of confusing. For 364 days of the year, we tell her not to accept candy from strangers. Then on Halloween, we dress her up as a big blue M&M, and encourage her to use her hand as some sort of crane device to pick up the maximum payload possible when strangers offer her buckets of treats to choose from.

It would be a lot simpler if our church had a Halloween alternative event. They’re pretty popular these days and come in a variety of shapes and colors. Some churches hold fall festivals or harvest hayrides or Trunk and Treat, an event that combines both strangers with candy and a place usually best suited for a spare tire.

I think those are great. I appreciate that different Christians handle the whole trick or treat thing in different ways. But since my dad, a minister, a church planter, a former member of the executive committee of the Southern Baptist Convention took us trick or treating, I don’t have much experience with Halloween alternative events. (Sorry to throw you under the Halloween bus dad, but that’s what you get for making me be a “hobo” for 6 years running, a costume that involves wearing old clothes and charcoal from the grill. Easiest/worst costume ever.)

I was going to create my own version of a Halloween alternative event, complete with a fantastical acronym and name. (My first thought was “Junk in the Trunk” because I figured I could hire Sir-Mix-A-Lot to play the gig.) But then I got an email from my friend Bryan about a Halloween event he went to as a child at the First Christian Church of Hendersonville. I was instantly reminded that fact is stranger than fiction and that you readers are funnier than me. Want to guess what the name of the event was?

HATCH

On the surface that is probably a B- idea. I mean at least they named it after something car trunk related. I didn’t think it was that awesome until he told me what it stood for.

Hendersonville’s

Alternative

To

Carnal

Halloween

I heart that. If that was a bumper sticker I would mail a Self-Addressed Stamped Envelope to request one. I would dress up as David or Samson (no one ever goes as Enoch) and go to that event in about 2 seconds. I would expect to eat some “alternative oreos” that didn’t get eaten at VBS and drink forearm-stirred orange drink and use the smoke machine the youth minister tricked the church into getting and sing “Friends are Friends Forever“ when the whole thing was over. That’s just how I get down.

How about you? Are you going trick or treating tomorrow night?

Are you going to a Halloween alternative event tonight at a church?

What are your plans for Halloween?

(Post originally appeared on February 23, 2008.)

Nicolas Cage might remake “Left Behind.”

Sometimes I struggle with a new topic to write about on SCL.

I brainstorm and scribble down ideas on paper and wrack my brain for a post idea.

I pace the house and wring my hands in frustration.

On other days, a new topic is hand delivered to me in Nicolas Cage gift wrap.

Today is one of those days.

According to a variety of media sources, Nicolas Cage is thinking about remaking the Left Behind movie series. The potential awesomeness is hard to capture in words, but I’m still going to try.

Since Cage is probably new to the Christian sphere (it’s not a dome, a lot of people make that mistake), I thought I’d help him out with 21 things he needs to know about the Left Behind movie:

1. Kirk Cameron needs to make a cameo.

2. Tim Tebow should have a cameo as well. He can throw a football to some kid who raptures as he catches it.

3. If you want to attract Christian singles to attend the movie, then, in the ads, don’t say, “Come alone if you’ve been given the gift of singleness that Paul had!” They frown on that.

4. For the exciting scenes that kind of start off slow and then build to loud action packed fantasticness, use music from Mumford & Sons.

5. If you need any extras, use Hillsong. That band is awesome and there are 92 people in it.

6. Everyone in the film should be wearing Toms.

7. The only swear you can have in the movie is “hell.” Christians get a free pass on that one if used in the proper context. Like “This feels like hell on earth.”

8. Since the movie is about the end of the world, beware the temptation to constantly put an “S” on “Revelation.” It’s Revelation 4:2, not “Revelations 4:2.”

9. Resist the urge to have John Travolta trade faces with you in Left Behind. He’s a Scientologist, and we believe some pretty different things.

10. There’s a pastor’s kids union that you have to work with. You can pay them in bootleg VBS cookies.

11. It includes Katy Perry.

12. And Daniel Tosh.

13. And Jon Acuff.

14. Make sure there’s not a single crew neck t-shirt in the entire movie. Unless maybe for one of the bad guys. They could wear mock turtlenecks for all I care, but Christians are all about the deep v-neck.

15. You’ll probably need to film it in Nashville, Tennessee, which is the shiny belt buckle of the Bible Belt.

16. Or you could film it in Colorado Springs, which is the Western Bible Belt.

17. Make sure no one in the movie shares a front hug. Christians prefer side hugs, with a few blessing pats if possible. Don’t act like you didn’t read the Stuff Christians Like book, Cage.

18. Don’t expect great ticket sales on Sunday. That’s the Sabbath. Or maybe it’s Saturday. Some punk Christian is going to correct you on that point 1 million times.

19. Know that cool Christians are going to judge you unfairly. We like to hold the creators of Christian films, who have budgets of $92, to the production values of Transformers.

20. It’s been a while since I read Left Behind, so I forget if you have a lion in it or not, but there should be. We love lions.

21. And hobbits, you’re going to need one of those too.

I don’t know if Nicolas Cage reads this blog. I like to think so, since a lot of the clues in National Treasure seemed based on my Vacation Bible School theme ideas, but whatever.

If you know him, feel free to pass it on to him.

Better yet, what advice would you give Nicolas Cage about remaking Left Behind?

Prepositional Prayers

(It’s guest post Friday! Here’s one from Kim Gottschild.  You can also follow her on Facebook or Twitter.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Prepositional Prayers

Afternoons at the Gottschild abode can go either one of two ways.

I am only going to tell you about one of them.

I am going to tell you about afternoons spent serving wholesome afternoon snacks with Hillsong piping in the background, as to aid our daughter’ studies. I’m going to tell you about the waft of pot roast floating through the air, teasing us until dinner. I’m going to tell you about the low hum the washer and dryer rhythmically exude while I fold and hang. I’m going to tell you about all that occurs on select afternoons after I already spent the day teaching middle school German, after I already sent the girls off to school with organic lunches in tow. After I already vacuumed the house, feather dusted, swiped a toilet or two clean, paid the bills, removed all pancake remains from the kitchen table, pottied the dogs, prepared said crock pot dinner, and embarrassed my children at the bus stop in my jammies (Lucky me, I  don’t actually work until noon).

You can see that, on such afternoons, all that’s left to do is clothe my family in velvet, and then my husband will be in good standing at the town gates.

So one particular afternoon, just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, our youngest daughter, Lenna, walked into the room and said, “Mommy, you need to help me memorize my prepositions. We need to sing the song.”

Remember, I’m a language teacher. So don’t hold it against me when I tell you that I have a favorite part of speech, and that the mere mention of prepositions sent tingles up my spine.

But more than just my love for grammar, I delighted at the chance to teach prepositional usage for another reason, a reason that would make all that velvet garb unnecessary. For this was the big teachable moment, the chance to empower and equip our daughter to formulate (duh duh duh…):

Prepositional Prayers.

Yes my friends, this select, now fantabulous afternoon, I would not only aid my daughter’s education, thereby enabling her to grow up and build wells, command corporations, birth babies, and dress her own family in velvet, I would enhance her spiritual walk. While spiritual and humbling, inserting “just” as an adverb throughout our prayers can never provide the endless supplicational opportunities prepositional phrases afford. Prepositions are simply the key to creating the most fluid, seamless, and seemingly endless, prayers that will knock your elders’ socks off.

Allow me to demonstrate:

Step 1: Memorize your prepositions to the tune of Yankee Doodle.

With on for after at by in

against instead of near between

To off from under down below

Through over up according to

beneath, across, beyond, about,

before, behind, within, without,

among, around, amidst, above, toward.

Step 2: Insert as many prepositions into your prayer as possible, stringing them together.

Step 3: Complete phrases with Christianese Direct Objects! Your prepositional phrases aren’t complete without such christiany sounding nouns as:

Christ, God, Jesus, brothers, sisters, throne, name, humility, thankfulness, gratitude, heavenlies, hardships, burdens, fellowship, blessings, glory, truth, world.

(The list could go on and on. Simply create your own word bank with your favorite stand bys.)

And voila! Just look at this prayer, diagrammed like an eighth-grade English grammar exercise!

Lord, Father, we just come (to You) (on this day) (to fellowship) (with our brothers and sisters) (in Christ), kneeling (before your throne) (in humbleness) (at Your glory).  Dwell (among us) as we gather together (in Your name) (underneath the heavenlies) (despite life’s hardships).  We believe nothing can stand (against us) while living (in but not of this world).  (Without You) we are nothing, (according to  multiple Bible verses), so we are constantly running (towards that which we cannot see).  Because it’s all (about You, Lord), it’s all (about You).

And there you have it, my SCL friends. Easy peasy, never fail, never-ending supplications suitable for all spiritual situations, including, but not limited to, small-group popcorn prayer circles, church meetings, women’s Bible study sessions, and youth retreats.

Yes, thanks to our little propositional study session, Lenna not only aced her prepositions test, but she will ace her prayers in all years to come. So now I can use that Hobby Lobby coupon for something other than fabric intended for apparel, like, let’s say, a wrought iron cross adorned with fake ivy.

For more great writing from Kim, you can check out out her articles here.

The riddle bumper sticker.

I’m ashamed how long it took me to figure out this bumper sticker.

Maybe it’s because I’m dumb at math. (See yesterday’s post.) Maybe it’s because I’m just regular dumb, but I stood at the back of this car, talking quietly to myself.

“So the one thing is up and then the other thing goes down and then the cross and a cave, or is that a tomb? Carry the remainder and divide by the gerund equals… Jesus?”

Have you ever seen this one before? Did you get it a lot faster than me?

The S word that ruins most of us.

For the last 7 years, I’ve been unlearning God.

He is not who I thought he was.

He is not who I was told he is.

He is not the greedy miser of joy I suspected all these years. He is not the boring happiness thief I cobbled together all these years. He is something different. Something wild. Something uncontrollable.

And one of the biggest surprises has been discovering how broken my understanding of the word “surrender” is.

I’m like a lot of Christians. I always secretly believed that the reason it was dangerous to give your life to God was that, the minute you did, it was obvious what he’d do.

He’d make you sell everything you own and move to Africa to become a missionary. You’d go zero to hut in about 3.2 seconds. But as I’ve written about before, that belief reveals something profoundly disturbing about my god.

If the first thing God does to me is the worst thing I can imagine, I have the worst god.

If I have a love for writing and a hatred of math and I fear that turning over my life to God means he’ll make me be a mathematician, I have a miserable god.

Maybe you don’t have that belief. I am extreme in my foolishness, but chances are you at least carry the same broken definition of “surrender to God” in your heart too.

I used to think “surrendering to God” meant turning over everything that was good in your life for something boring. It was releasing the things you loved, that beat loud and true in your heart, in exchange for some sort of miserable God mission.

I give God a lollipop, and he gives me back a rock.

I turn in my colorful dreams, and he gives me a life full of gray doldrums.

And when we talk about the word “surrender,” that’s often how we discuss it. At retreats, we challenge each other to “lay something at the foot of the cross.” We paint sad, broken little pictures of us surrendering things we love to a Lord who hopefully will like us in return.

But what I’m starting to learn is that surrendering isn’t just an act of releasing, it’s an act of receiving.

We don’t surrender to something worse, we surrender to something best.

We let go of our good for a God who is great.

There is not misery on the other side of surrender, there is joy.

The prodigal son was not met with a penalty, he was met with a party.

Most of us have had such a pendulum swing away from the promises of the prosperity gospel that, in the prodigal son story, we’d refuse the party. We’d come home and say, “No father, this is too much. This is too lavish. Is there somewhere I could work on the farm, perhaps wash someone’s feet? This is far too nice for me.”

We’ve gotten surrender wrong for far too long. It’s time for a new definition, and this is the one I’m using from now on:

Surrender isn’t the end of your life, it is the start.