Jon Acuff's Blog, page 93

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?

A Primer for Catalyst

(It’s guest post Friday! Here’s one from Curtis Honeycutt.  His blog is WhenAtLast.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

A  Primer for Catalyst

The first (and most important thing) you must know about Catalyst is that it’s not a conference to get together and watch a list of the most hilarious cat videos on YouTube. It’s also not Craigslist for cats. Or catapults. As disappointing as those factoids may be, Catalyst is an awesome event for Christian leaders from all over the country. Here’s a primer on what you need to know about Catalyst.

1.  It’s like a family reunion for metrosexual worship leaders. You’d think The Buckle was having a “Free Flannel V-Neck Day” and sent out VIP coupons to worship leaders.

2.  Because there are so many worship leaders in the audience, the singing is fantastic. Except around me, where savvy  Catalysters build in at least a four-seat buffer by the third session.

3.  Craig Groeschel will be there. This doesn’t just apply to Catalyst, but any Christian event, from The Global Leadership Summit to your local church’s senior adult potluck. Where two or more are gathered, Craig Groeschel will be there, working the room…you just have to find him. He’s Waldo.

4.  There will be swag. Free t-shirts. Messenger bags galore. Those grippy things that open jars. Microsoft Zunes. Precious Moments bobble heads. LannyDonoho press-on goatees. For these reasons, youth pastors will be wearing their special cargo pants with extra pockets.

5.  Catalyst likes to break records and do crazy things. In past years, they’ve broken the most records for breaking the most (vinyl) records. One time they broke the record for the largest pillow fight. I saw a guy jump into a kiddy pool from like 100 feet in the air. There have been human cannon balls, trampoline acrobats, and even Tripp and Tyler suspended from cables.

6.  At some point, the worship band will feel like The Polyphonic Spree is onstage (they have over 20 band members). I know when you have to parenthetically explain humor, it’s not funny anymore, but this is an apt analogy. Someone from Hillsong will be hillsinging. There will be dueling drummers. Some guy who looks like he just rolled out of bed will be jumping up and down with a banjo. There might even be a keytar or two. You won’t be disappointed.

7.  All the Twitters and Instagrams will be blowing up with hashtags. This social networking overuse will cause slow internets. Do what I do and update your status via Morse Code. That network is wide open.

8.  Other than a sports event, this is the only time the line for the women’s restroom will be shorter than the men’s line. Unless, of course, you can find the secret bathroom.

For more great writing from Curtis, please check out his blog!

Why do people think Christians are crazy online?

Because we post things like this on Facebook and they get 109,276 likes.

Quit it.

The Simple Things

My friend works with someone who lost 200 pounds. One day he asked him how he did it. He was expecting a complicated “core blasting, fresh caught river fish, only eat green things that grow in the late autumn,” kind of answer. Do you know what the person said?

“I ate less. And I moved more.” Then, in the way I tell the story in my head, he dropped an imaginary mic like Eminem at the end of 8 mile and walked away.

Sometimes we want things to be complicated so we don’t have to do them. We talk ourselves into circles and analyze and debate a million different ways so that there are obstacles between us and whatever action we know we should be taking. But kids see through that kind of nonsense.

McRae, my 6 year old, reminded me of that the other day.

While driving her home from art class, one of my favorite moments of every week, she said, “If I was homeless I would go to Costco every day to eat samples.”

That seems like a pretty solid plan. McRae doesn’t know they check for a membership card at the door. In her mind you could work the Costco sample buffet like a charm.

I asked her in response, “Where would you sleep at night?”

She paused for a second like she couldn’t believe the absurdity of me even having to ask and said, “At church.”

What she said next knocked me off my feet a little:

“The church would let me or they’re not Christians.”

I thought she was done after that, but she continued, “That’d be mean to say ‘get out of here, this is private property!’ I’d sleep at the church. You know, the church?”

I almost checked the rear view mirror to make sure there was still a six year old little girl in the back seat and not a tiny, booster seated theologian.

She’s right. There are some things in life we’re just supposed to do.

They might be difficult but they’re not complicated.

If you ever ask a little kid they’ll let you know what they are. And if you ask who should be doing them, they’ll probably look at you like you’re a little crazy and respond, “The church. You know, the church?”

 

One irony to rule them all.

I don’t know who made this photo of Tolkien, but it wasn’t me. If I did know, I would salute them for noticing something hilarious about the Lord of the Rings that I never realized.

Did you ever notice the irony mentioned in this photo? (Don’t debate the definition of irony either. I feel like Alanis made it pretty clear.)