Jon Acuff's Blog, page 93

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?

Something no parents are brave (or petty) enough to admit.

Do you have to tell other parents who your babysitter is?

I know we’re supposed to love our neighbors.

And our enemies.

But is there anywhere in Scripture that addresses sharing the name of your babysitter with other parents?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we’re in community together. I’m glad we’re doing life together. We’ll be in seasons together. Fantastic.

But, if I tell you about the small cartel of awesome babysitters we’ve cultivated in Nashville, you know what’s going to happen next? You’re going to ask them to babysit your kids. And then some night, in the not-distant future, when I decide to take my wife for a kid free dinner* the babysitter will be booked already.

Then I’ll have to tell my wife we’re not going out and will try to make a joke like “Canceling dates is the 6th love language, ha, ha,” but she won’t laugh ’cause she’s heard me do that joke too many times.

I’ll tell her we can stay home and have “breakfast supper,” but she won’t fall for that either. Only are kids get excited by breakfast supper, which is code for “Mommy and Daddy haven’t gone to the grocery store in a while and are really tired, so here’s some scrambled eggs and grits.”

We’ll end up in a fight and have to go to counseling, at which point someone with a wise beard will tell me I need to do a better job of “reflective listening.” When you say you don’t feel loved when I don’t plan our date far enough in advance to get a babysitter I hear …

As a compromise, I’ll have to start coloring my graying hair chestnut brown so that I look younger and more able to book dinner dates. My head will look like Tom Selleck mustaches and people will start calling me the “brown badger.”

All because you demanded to take a shortcut in the babysitter circuit and refused to do your own research into who is an awesome babysitter and who is going to feed your kids pixie sticks and watch Real Housewives with them.

If you don’t have kids, don’t judge me. You don’t know the immense challenge of finding reliable great babysitters, especially when your parents don’t live near you. If you do have kids, well then judge away. But now you’re definitely in the wrong. The Bible is clear about planks and splinters in eyes. You’ve got a babysitter plank sir. Right in your eyeball.

Me? Unless there’s some verse about Martha or Mary (I always forget which was the fun one), babysitting somebody’s kids while everyone else went to the Sermon on the Mount (fish and loaves counts as a date), then I’m in the clear.

Can we get a ruling on this one?

*Which just means not at a Mexican restaurant, those places are great for kids. You can light the table on fire, and they just get out the little push vacuum and laugh with you. Love Mexican restaurants.

Question:

Do you find it easy to find babysitters?

I had to post this today.

This morning I am speaking at the Catalyst Conference. As you read I am somewhere in Atlanta pacing nervously before I speak like a jungle cat, pacing excitedly on the stage like a jungle cat, grabbing as many free granola bars as I can find like a jungle cat.

I am nothing if not consistent.

Given the day, I thought it might be good to look back on one of the posts that Catalyst inspired. It felt right today. And so we discuss,

“Understanding how metrosexual your worship leader is.”

I wrote this post because no one has quantified this phenomenon.

There are some things in life that are concrete and true. For instance, it is a fact that “You’re all I want for Christmas” by Mariah Carey and “Christmas in Hollis” by Run DMC are fantastic songs. No argument there. But when you tell someone about your church, there’s not a standard system to describe the degree of metrosexuality your worship leader possesses. Wouldn’t it be awesome to say, “You’ll love my church and the music. Our worship leader scored a 78 on the SCL Metro Test.”

Don’t answer that last question. It was rhetorical. As a service to churches around the world, here is an easy rating system by which to analyze to what degree your worship leader is a metrosexual.

1. Has a faux hawk hair style = +1

2. Has more product in his hair than your wife = +1

3. Has Rob Bell, black rimmed glasses = +1

4. They are not prescription, but just for effect = +2

5. Attends the Catalyst Conference = +3

6. Performs at the Catalyst Conference = +10

7. Owns Puma, Vans or Diesel sneakers = +2 per each pair

8. Wears jeans on stage = +1

9. Wears designer jeans on stage = +2

10. Wears Wrangler or Rustler jeans on stage = -3

11. Has a goatee = +2

12. Wears one of those Castro revolution looking hats = +2

13. Drinks coffee on stage = +1

14. Drinks some kind of coffee you did not know existed = +2

15. Brings a French Press on stage and makes his own coffee during service = +5

16. Has a handlebar mustache, that is not for irony = -3

17. Good at Frisbee but hates getting all “sweaty” = +1

18. Has a haircut that covers one of his eyes while singing = +1

19. Owns a white belt = +2

20. Owns suspenders = -3 (That’s more for the hipster list which we need to create)

21. Wears a scarf with a t-shirt = +1

22. Wears a winter knit hat even in the summer = +2

23. You think he covered a My Chemical Romance song last week = +3

24. Drives an Audi or VW, silver of course = +2

25. Uses the words, “postmodern, relevant” or “emergent” nonstop = +2

26. Cringes a little when people say the “H word.” (Hymnal) = +3

27. Has ever said some form of the phrase, “That song is so 1990s” = +1

28. Owns a Grizzly Adams red and black flannel shirt = -2 (Again, too Americana hipster.)

29. Named his kid after a color or a number = +2

30. References Norwegian punk bands you’ve never heard of = +2

31. Wears a tie = -1

32. Wears a tie as a belt = +2

33. Looks as if he might exfoliate = +2

34. Has a man bag or European Carry All = +2

35. Brings said bag on stage with him = +2

36. Has a tattoo = +2

37. Has a visible tattoo = +4

38. Wife accompanies him on stage and plays triangle = -4

39. Was formerly in a punk new wave band = +2

40. Has 7 different guitars on stage and manages to play each one during a 4 minute song = +3

41. Refuses to drink anything but Vitamin Water = +2

42. Your wife ever says, “he needs a barrette for his hair.” = +2

43. Has a nickname with “the” in it, as in “the edge,” = +2

44. Owns every Nooma video = +2

45. Has a soul patch = +3

46. Won’t play barefoot on stage until he gets a pedicure = +2

47. Refers to California as “the left coast” = +2

48. Currently subscribes to Dwell or Details magazine = +2

49. Owns a pair of lady jeans = +2

50. Twitters you from his iPhone = +2

51. His toddler dresses cooler than you = +2

52. He wears graphic t-shirts over button down, long sleeve shirts = +2

53. Ever says “we got a hot mic here” = -4

54. Shops at the Gap = 0

55. Shops at Urban Outfitters = +2

I scored one of the worship leaders I’m friends with and he did pretty well. At some point I will do a lady version, but for right now, I feel like a 55 item list of analyzing worship leaders is enough to earn me a new batch of “you are weird” emails, and at the end of the day, that’s all I can ask for.

So here it is. My hope is that everyone will post comments and confess which category they fit in. I scored a 35 by the way.

0 – 10 points = Hymnal Hero

You my friend are what is known in the industry as a “Hymnal Hero.” (the industry of sarcasm by the way) You’re not metro in the least bit. You don’t like fruit flavored chapstick and think that songs that were written in this century, or the last one for that matter, are “too new.” If married, your wife tries to get you to wear hip jeans but you’re not into it. When my hymnal cologne comes out, you will buy a case.

11 – 20 points = Tomlin Curious

Oh, well hello there, you’re Tomlin Curious. I am of course referring to Chris Tomlin, one of the founding fathers of metrosexual worship leading. You’re currently dipping a toe, pedicured even, into the idea of all of this. You still rock the occasional hymnal but recently you saw a wide leather bracelet at the mall and thought about getting it. When you sleep at night you can hear voices calling you, “come style your hair, come frost your tips.”

21 – 40 points = Goatee Guy

Right now, you’re wearing Pumas and drinking a coffee that has fourteen words in its name. It’s cool, I have Pumas on too. You’ve gone over to the Salmon side. (This is the side where instead of saying “pink” you say things are “salmon” or “melon” or “coral.”) You rarely play a hymn and style yourself after Jeremy Camp. For breakfast you had something with “wheat grass” in it.

41 – 60 points = Girl Jeans Gambler

I’ve never personally rocked the girls jeans because they make my legs look really skinny. Oh, and I’m also a boy. But you’re thinking about it. I mean you’re not ready to do the Chris Daughtry eyeliner thing, he’s a bit more rock than metro anyway, but when you shop for clothes you get a little tempted. You’ve never sung a hymn and think Chris Tomlin is “too traditional.”

61+ points = The Carlos

My friend Carlos of Ragamuffinsoul.com, is perhaps the most metro worship guy I have ever met. He’s also one of the coolest too, but that’s beside the point. Not only does he have a tattoo of Paul’s conversion, he was featured on the show “LA Ink” getting it. He has a cool nickname, “Los” and hangs out with creative types like photographers a lot. He’s really funny but can bust out an instant, “I’m a serious rockstar worship leader” face for his photos and was sent to Africa by Compassion International because his blog is so big. He is the Michael Jordan of Metrosexual Worship Leaders. If you reach this level then you are on another planet my friend, the Carlos planet.

The greatest trick kids play on Christian parents.

My kids are like your kids, they don’t like to go to bed.

They like to run as hard as they can, deny they are tired, and then collapse in a heap.

I thought I had all their bedtime stall tactics figured out. One more glass of water, one more story, one more imaginary bug that must be cleared from the room, less winged insect panic ensue, etc.

But then they launched a new offensive.

Right before I head back downstairs and shut the door, they’ve started to say, “Could I have one more hug please, Daddy?”

Genius!

What am I some sort of no-hug-giving monster? Who can withstand that? What happens in that moment is you teeter at the door, knowing they’re gaming you, but then you start to think about that song “Cat’s in the Cradle” and think to yourself, “I bet they won’t want hugs when they’re teenagers. What if I die in my sleep and this is the last hug I get to give them? I better hug them while I can! Dust in the wind!”

So then you hug them one more time.

I thought that was it, I thought that was the peak of their game, but I was wrong. You know what an even better move is, especially on a Christian parent? When your kids say, “Could we pray one more time please?”

Now they’re not stalling, they’re soul searching. They’re trying to be in the bed, but not of the bed.

Well played, children. Well played, indeed.

Question:

Do your kids ever stall at bedtime, or did you stall as a kid?

How big are your failures?

Here is a note I wrote myself recently for the times when fear tries to magnify the size of my failures. It’s short and roughly written, but maybe something you need to remember too.

Jesus Rocks

A few weeks ago I saw this van on the road. And it immediately prompted so many questions in my head:

 

1. Why give Jesus a modern guitar but not a modern outfit?

2. Would this have been weirder if Jesus was in skinny jeans and a deep v neck t-shirt or less weird?

3. Were all the robes back then that “bathrobey” looking? It kind of looks like Jesus just stepped out of a spa, was handed a plush cranberry robe and a guitar and decided to rock.

4. Where is this person going? Because I want to go to there.

5. How did the driver of this car convince his wife this was a good idea? I’ve been trying to talk Jenny into us getting a Honda Ruckus scooter for years and haven’t made any progress. This guy needs to negotiate hostage situations.

6. Is the “And I say hello,” a reference to the Beatles song?

7. Or is the “And I say hello” a reference to what this driver is known for? Maybe he’s saying, “If I was in a band with Jesus, he would play lead guitar and I would just say ‘hello’ over and over again. When you’re rocking out with Jesus, you don’t even need the guy on cowbell, but Jesus does like a backup singer to say, “hello, hello, hello.”

8. Was it tempting to paint, “Peter Rocks and Jesus Rolls” on this van? With maybe a picture of Jesus playing the drums on the stone that was rolled away from the tomb? That’s probably the direction I would have gone.

9. What does this guy’s other car look like? Or his house?

I have so many questions, but I have just one I’d love you to answer today in the comments:

What scene do you think is painted on the hood of this van?

Get your lean on.

Dear person sitting next to me at church,

First of all, yes, that scent of sandalwood, citrus, ocean waves and far off adventure you’re getting is me. It’s my cologne. I make it in my garage. It’s kind of a “farm to neck” thing. Local. Organic. Gluten free, etc.

Second of all, I must warn you that today, when the minister closes this church service with a prayer, you will discover I am a prayer leaner.

As the lights go dim and eyes go closed and prayers go up (cause all I do is win), I will lean forward. I will rest my elbows on my knees for support and then pray. At this moment, if countless other experiences have taught me anything, you will think one thing:

This delightful smelling guy next to me is crying.

You, like many others before you, will then feel bad for me. You will misinterpret my pray lean as sadness. In a moment of compassion, you will place a hand on my shoulders or upper back. (Upper back hand placement from a stranger at church = comforting. Lower back hand placement from a stranger at church = creepy.)

You might even whisper in my ear, “You’ll get through this.” Or “I’m here for you.” Or “God gives and takes away.”

In that moment, I won’t know what to do. Do I correct you? Do I break my prayer, mid lean, and reply, “Oh yeah, totally. God loves me. He loves you too. Right back atcha!” Or do I go along with it, not wanting to offend you that you misread my prayer leaning for sorrow. Do I nod as if I am crying and try to imagine an appropriate tragedy that has me in tears, “That cat was like a member of my family. She was taken too soon! Too soon! I know you’re in heaven scratching God’s couch right now Mr. Whiskers!”

At that point, what can you do? Unless the church we’re in has some sort of cat death care ministry you can refer me to, or you happen to have a spare cat on your person, you’re stuck too.

You probably won’t, though, nobody brings bonus cats with them to church. And cats have such disdain for humanity that they are never service animals. No one has a “seeing eye cat.” That thing would get you killed in traffic on day one.

You’ll feel bad and bring me a cat next week to make up for it. I’ll pet it quietly in the lobby of the church when you give it to me, but promptly set it free in the parking lot after service when you’re not around.

The cat will escape into the underbelly of Nashville, have kittens and add to the growing feral cat problem, furthering enraging Bob Barker who told us to spay or neuter our animals.

So I guess what I’m saying is that for my sake, for your sake, for Bob Barker’s sake, please know that I’m not crying during the closing prayer.

I’m a prayer leaner.

I lean back. Like Fat Joe.

Question:

Are you a prayer leaner?