Jon Acuff's Blog, page 92

The 5 Stages of Dealing with Mission Update Sunday

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

The 5 Stages of Dealing with Mission Update Sunday

Like it or not, I know what’s about to happen.   The smiling couple dressed in clothes they clearly bought “in country”.  The slide projector. The extra offering plates. Sarah McLachlan waiting in the wings to sing “In the Arms of an Angel”.

I wish it wasn’t, but I know it is. It’s Mission Update Sunday.

There are plenty of ways to be a horrible person in church.  Me?  I nearly lose my salvation once a quarter.

My first instinct is to bolt for the double doors.   You know, the ones in the back by the coffee? But no can do.  Brother Hawkeye has already shaken my hand and given me a bulletin.  I may as well be Gorilla glued to a pew.

At least it’s a pew in the back.  Maybe one that’s roped off if I’m feeling extra rebellious.  This is where I begin to go through the process of facing my own sin nature via how badly I handle:

The 5 Stages of Dealing with Mission Update Sunday:

Stage 1: Dread

- If dreading the virtual trip to Haiti and guilt isn’t enough, then there’s knowing the pastor still intends to preach. I can literally hear the blood clots forming in my legs.  Of course what good is MUS without the tangible proof of digital photography, but the guilt trip is a self-inflicted voyage of one.

Stage 2: Narcolepsy – Having a bad attitude makes me tired.  I will begin to nod off right about the time that pictures of beautiful children in a schoolroom start to flash.  I change position, open my bulletin, unwrap a butterscotch way too loudly or any other ordained method of maintaining lucidity.  My husband, however, usually ends up sending me a wake-up text that vibrates the iPhone in my hand and scares the crap out of me. If they passed out Red Bull in the communion cups at the beginning of the service we wouldn’t be having this problem.

Stage 3: Bullet Dodging – Thank God it isn’t me.  Realizing that God may have chosen these people instead of me makes my day a little brighter.  That could be me up there wearing awful sandals and describing the ground-breaking work being done in Papua, New Guinea.  I send up a concessionary prayer of thanks for AC and Chuck Taylors, hoping that God doesn’t respond by giving me a heart for Peruvian cannibals.

Stage 4: Resignation – This is going to happen whether I lose Jesus’ love or not.  So I begin the head nodding that makes it look like I’m paying attention.  This rapidly deteriorates into the Sunday Morning Head Bob.  See Stage 2.  When I do manage to keep my eyes open and not glassyish, I try to look interested with a touch of concern.  But I’m pretty sure I just look constipated.

Stage 5: Cash or Check - By the time the pastor says, “Let’s bless these folks, shall we?” I am already way ahead of him.  Is it because I’m so grateful to the couple and their work?  Nope.  The service is almost over and I’m sitting in the back!  I could be the first one out the door if I straight arm the usher with my love offering.

I love missionaries.  I really, really do.  But the idea that sitting through MUS might mean I actually have to do something is terrifying.  See Stage 3.  God bless those less cowardly than me.

Am I the only terrible person who feels this way and writes a check the size of my mortgage to ease my guilt?

Any missionaries out there I need to apologize to and could tell us your MUS stories?

For more great writing from Sharideth, check out her blog!

Oh, the irony.

Nothing makes you feel less like an awesome parent than when your kids fight over a character bracelet they got in Sunday School.

Hearing them argue over whose “I am responsible” or “I am compassionate” bracelet is on the counter is truly one of the most ironic moments I’ve ever experienced.

Has that ever happened at your house?

The soft x

I cried in the Chicago Airport.

And these were not tough guy, lumberjack, I just punched a mountain lion in the face with my bare fist kind of tears. These were sad and tired and give up tears.

I was flying home from a conference in Chicago. I had been the closing keynote speaker and it had gone really well. That’s not what I was crying about though. I was crying because of what I knew would happen when I landed.

I knew I would take the train to my car, grab work clothes, change in the handicapped stall and then disappear into a sea of cubicles. I didn’t hate my job, not at all, it just wasn’t what I felt called to do. The Stuff Christians Book wasn’t out yet, but the site was doing well. I had this completely different life starting to develop and it was hard to go back to work and act like Chicago had all been just a dream.

This was long before the opportunity at Dave Ramsey. This was a doldrums period where I was just writing and writing and writing, but things weren’t happening the way I thought they would.

I sat in meetings about TPS reports and budgets and would get frustrated with God, wondering if he even saw me. Wasn’t he the one who put this burning in my heart? Wasn’t it his call that I was answering? This wasn’t how life was supposed to go.

Have you ever felt that way?

Has there ever been a situation where you had an expectation that you felt like God simply wasn’t meeting? I think most of us have experienced that.

Right now, someone reading this blog is mourning a marriage that fell apart. You wanted to be the first in your family to have a grandkid for your parents, not the first to get divorced.

Right now, someone is in a gray cubicle and the degree they got, the passion they followed in college is a million miles away from how they spend 40+ hours every week.

Right now, there’s someone struggling with an issue that refuses to release it’s talons even though you’re occasionally able to shake it for a few “good weeks.”

Right now, someone had to send out wedding cancellation notes, because it’s off.

Right now, there’s a man who feels a lot less than a man because he doesn’t have a job and can’t provide for his family.

Right now there are a million different versions of “Don’t you see me God?” happening. And so we doubt and get angry and lonely. But we are not the only ones with expectations that go astray.

In Genesis 48, the same thing happens to Joseph, of the double rainbow coat fame. He has brought his two sons to his father Israel for his blessing. We don’t understand this culturally because we don’t really do this anymore, but this was a critical, massive thing that was about to take place. Manasseh was about to receive Israel’s blessing. That was what should happen. That was what Joseph expected.

Joseph the faithful. Joseph the former slave, former convict, former saved all of Egypt from death and destruction. Joseph had a great track record at this point. He was a deeply wise man of God. He knew what was about to happen. By lineage, by tradition, by faith, Manasseh was about to get blessed by Israel.

Only he doesn’t.

It doesn’t happen that way. Instead of doing what he should have done, Israel crosses his arms and forms an X, placing his hands on the heads of the wrong children. He blesses Ephraim, the wrong son in Joseph’s mind.

And in 48:17 we see what happens: When Joseph saw his father placing his right hand on Ephraim’s head he was displeased; so he took hold of his father’s hand to move it from Ephraim’s head to Manasseh’s head.

Joseph has lived his entire life with one belief about how a blessing is passed down. This is his, “I got my Master’s Degree in teaching, I should get a teaching job” moment. This is his, “People get married after college, that’s what they do,” moment. This is what he’s always been ready for and it goes the exact opposite way.

So Joseph, like me or you trying to fix a mistake, says, “No, my father, this one is the firstborn; put your right hand on his head.”

And how does Israel respond? Does he say, “Oh, I am failing of sight and made a mistake?” Does he reply, “Thank you for correcting this situation?”

No.

He says simply, “I know, my son, I know.”

And that is an incredibly tender thing to say as someone’s expectations crumble.

And I think it’s something God still says to us, even today.

“I know, my son, I know. I know, my daughter, I know. That thing you wanted is not going to happen. Not the way you’ve always dreamed. I know this hurts. I know this stings. I know you feel like I am distant or not aware of where you are and who hurt you and what you think life was supposed to be like. I know in moments like this you doubt that I can count the hairs on your head or have your best in mind. But please, I am not done. I have barely started to reveal your life to you. I am the God who satisfies your desires with good things. That is me! And when it comes to your hopes and your fears and your dreams, I know, my son, I know.”

I think of this moment as the “soft x.”

I think of the tenderness of Israel with his arms outstretched and crossed. I think of our desires and our dreams and the times they don’t work. Because those times will come. God is not an ATM, bound by our whims. Christ promises us that in this world we will have trouble. But above all, when I think of that soft x I think of a God who wants to tell you he hears you, he loves you, he knows you. He is not disconnected or disinterested in who you are and who you want to be. Today, he says,

“I know, my son, I know.”

 

(Originally posted December 1, 2010)

Finally figuring out what Paul’s thorn in the flesh was.

One of our favorite things to do as Christians is to assume that Paul’s thorn in the flesh, that tormented him, was exactly what you struggle with.

Have some issues with porn? That was probably Paul’s thorn in the flesh.

Have some issues with gossip? That was probably Paul’s thorn in the flesh.

Have some pride, gluttony, shoplifting ferrets issues? That was probably Paul’s thorn in the flesh.

For years we all individually assumed that Paul’s mysterious thorn was the same issue we struggle with …until today. Turns out a brilliant cartoonist discovered what Paul’s real cause of anguish was. Here’s the proof:

The worst thing ever put in an offering basket.

There’s a chance that somebody once put an adult black mamba into an offering basket.

Those snakes are extremely venomous, incredibly fast and hate contemporary worship music. So if somebody put one of those in an offering basket, then this post should be titled “The next to worst thing ever put in an offering basket.”

Until that day though, this takes the cake.

A few weeks ago, someone sent me a photo. (I’m jon (at) jonacuff.com in case you want to email me.)

It’s a picture of a check  that was placed in the offering and well, I’ll let you see what happened:

 

So in review:

1. Someone filled out a check for $75.

2. They then wrote VOID on that check.

3. Then they wrote, “Drums way to loud.”

4. Then they put it in the offering basket.

Now I know what you’re thinking, that is whack and to is incorrectly used! I agree, but here’s a few things we need to keep in mind before we jump to any crazy conclusions.

1. Maybe at the church this person goes to that’s how they give feedback about the service.

Some people have a comment box or a line you can fill in on the bulletin. Other churches just encourage you to talk to staff members if you’ve got some ideas. It’s possible this church encourages the “voided offering check feedback form.”

2. Maybe there’s a passage in the Bible where this kind of thing happens and Jesus high fives everyone after it does.

It’s been a little while since I read the story of the widow’s mite. That’s the one where a widow puts everything she has in the offering at the temple. Maybe it wasn’t a mite she put in. Maybe it was a note on papyrus with a voided mite that said, “Too much shofar horn!”

3. Maybe it’s an elaborate way to guest post on Stuff Christians Like.

It’s really easy to guest post on Stuff Christians Like. We have guidelines and every thing like fancier blogs do. But maybe someone thought it was difficult and then decided that the old “voided check drums to loud” move would do the trick.

4. Maybe Jesus overturned the temple because of drums.

Maybe there was some annoying guy in the temple sitting next to all the money changers playing a kick drum. Or maybe there was some girl playing an upside down trash can in the temple and wasn’t any good. She was not as the kids say, “bringing the funk or at all phat.” (The kids still say that right?) So Jesus made a whip, jumped in like a Nazarene swat team and cleaned house against all those drummers.

If any of the options above is what happened, please excuse my apology for misinterpreting your check.

If any of the options above is not what happened and you did intend to send a message about the volume of the drums via a voided check in the offering basket, stop.

There’s no way that’s WWJD.

Question:

Is it me or is that not a kind thing to do?

20 = 1

I am a big fan of Hello Somebody.

They do awesome work.

For awesome causes.

With an awesome heart.

Over the last few years I’ve been able to spend a lot of time with their team and it’s been a blast to do some quick hit projects with them.

Last year, we helped send Rwandan kids through a leadership program.

This year, let’s make sure some people who need surgeries desperately get them.

It’s simple.

20 watches = 1 surgery.

How? Well Cure International exists to help the 100 million kids worldwide who have physical disabilities that can be cured through surgery. Right now they’ve got a campaign called “Music with a Mission.” (You might have seen Tim Tebow talking about Cure because he’s partnered with them too. One more thing me and that guy have in common. We like Cure, we’re Christians and we’re both super muscular.)

For more about what Cure does, check them out at Cure.org.

To be one of the 20 folks that gets a watch that helps a kid get a surgery, grab one on Hello Somebody.

Fellowship Triage

(It’s guest post Friday! Here’s one from Larry Carter. You can check out his blog here. You can also follow him on Twitter. If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Fellowship Triage

I don’t know what type of church you go to. You may go to one of those newfangled churches that Jon talks about all the time. Me? I still go to a fairly traditional church that still does a lot of traditional things. One, for example, is the fellowship time.

I love this time when we roam around the auditorium looking for everyone we haven’t seen for a few days. We greet and grin, shake and howdy, and otherwise say “Hi” to a whole bunch of people.

There are some rules, though, some stages of the fellowship time. I call it triage. I determine, based on certain criteria, exactly how I’m going to approach each person during this sacred time.

1.  Fist Bump:  This one is primarily used on that one guy. You know him. He’s the guy you see in the bathroom. He finishes and walks out. Without washing his hands. I automatically triage him into the fist bump category. Sorry, he is not getting a full handshake. I also worry about those deviled eggs that he brings to the church fellowship meal. I might triage those as well.

2.  Handshake:  If I can’t get a glimpse of someone washing their hands, I will go ahead, take a chance, and shake their hand. Of course, I do a mini-triage with this one. I base my grip on whether someone is a lady or man. That big guy who looks like he could teach Hulk Hogan a thing or two? I’m going in hard. That sweet little old lady who has taught second grade Sunday School to every kid in the church, including the oldest deacon? I’m going delicate. What I really hate, though, is when I got delicate with a lady and she decides to power grip me to the floor.

3.  Side Hug: Do I need to really say anything about side hugs in this forum? I don’t really feel qualified to discuss the side hug here. After all, this is Jon Acuff territory. The side hug even has its own t-shirt now. Needless to say, 99 and 44/100 of all hugs in church should be of the side hug variety.

4.  Frontal Hug:  This one is dangerous and should be handled with care. When do you do a frontal hug? Guys, if you shake hands with another guy and do that kind-of backslap, hug thing, that’s fine. Ladies, you can frontal hug your female friends at church. However, men, we cannot frontal hug those ladies whom our wives hug. Red lights and “Danger! Danger! Will Robinson” should be going off in our heads at this point. I have been told recently by someone in our church that it is ok to frontal hug little old ladies. I’m still not sure about that one, but I’ll leave that to your discretion.

5.  Holy Kiss: Paul tells some of his readers to greet each other with a holy kiss. I think you have to be very careful with this one. Kids can kiss their parents. Women? You can do that air kiss thing. Older, female relatives? A peck on the cheek is fine. Your best friend’s wife? I think you know the answer to that one.

There you have it.  The triage I go through each week so that I can fellowship with my fellow church members.

Do you triage your fellowship times?  What else do you triage at church?

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

Sign you might listen to a lot of Christian music.

You instantly get the lyrical reference in this photo.

Via Jonathan Chase.

How we want to come home.

I have a series of people who hold me accountable on a series of things. (See previous post about how I am “prone to wander.”)

One of them is my friend Brewster.

His first name isn’t punky but it’d be awesome if it was.

Punky Brewster could hold me accountable to wearing brightly colored, mismatched clothes and always going on adventures with a dog and an old man. (If you listen closely, you can hear half of the SCL community googling the reference “Punky Brewster.” I am so old. My bones are brittle.)

Brewster and I work out together, which is why I’m huge. And while we work out, we talk about our days and our weeks. When I’ve got fun opportunities on the horizon, I talk about them with Brewster. When I’ve dropped the ball on something, I talk about that with Brewster too.

But recently I noticed something: I prefer to talk about the “highlights” of my life with him. I like to talk about all the good stuff. If I mess up something, I want to get a solid week between me and him so that, by the time I see him, I can say, “Oh, yeah, last week was rough. But that’s way in the past at this point. Whole week ago.”

I like to come to the conversation with a win, not a sin.

And it turns out, I do the same thing to God.

When things have fallen apart, I don’t want to come home to God.

I want to fix things first or, at the very worst, get a good week or month of living between me and whatever it is I’m ashamed of.

I want to come home with a win, not a sin.

The prodigal son isn’t like me though. He was lazy. All he came home with was a plan. He had an idea about how he could have a future win if the father would just make him like one of his hired men. Maybe after a good month on the farm he’d be able to earn his way back to the dinner table.

Me? I’m spending a little more time working in the pig pen. I’m going to work my way up the pig pen corporate ladder. Maybe even make it all the way to Assistant Regional Manager. (Not just Assistant to the Regional Manager.) Then a few weeks or months later, after cleaning myself up, I’d come home and say, “Phew, things were crazy a few months ago, but I’m back to winning again. That sinning thing was a long time ago. Are we cool again dad?”

This is ridiculous for two reasons:

1. My cleanest “wins” are still dirty rags.

I can’t do it. There’s nothing I am capable of alone that will close the gap between me and God. Even when I fool myself into thinking I’m winning, I’m not really winning. In those moments of pride and self righteousness, I am as dirty as ever.

2. Jesus came for the sins, not the wins.

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” I don’t know how much clearer Jesus can say it. Jesus was a rescue mission. For the sick. For the sinners. For the pig pen schemers looking for a win. That’s who Jesus is here for.

Stop.

If you fell, if you’re on the ground because you tripped yourself for the thousandth time, don’t wait for a win until you come home.

Just come home.

Come home with a sin, not a win.

You will not impress God with the wins in your hands, nor shock God with the dirt on your face.

He knew you’d be tempted by both and sent something bigger than both to make sure the road home was open to mess ups like you and me.

Jesus.

Just come home.

Question:

Are you ever tempted to come home with a win?

How to know a Christian girl doesn’t want to date you.

She gives you a framed painting of Jesus and writes this on the back:

(Photo via @pierce_)

Question:

What’s the worst Christian dating experience you’ve ever had?