Jon Acuff's Blog, page 96

God is not who I thought he was.

I feel like I’ve spent the last few years unlearning God.

I cobbled together a picture of who he was, and I was wrong.

I wrote my own rules and expectations and crooked, invisible clauses for his love.

And one by one, he is stripping them away.

Recently, I’ve wrestled with the reality that, though I write about grace publicly, I privately believe grace is something that must be earned.

His love is not a gift, it’s a wage.

His forgiveness is not a treasure, it’s a paycheck.

His grace is not a present, it’s a reward.

The God of my yesteryears called me to his will because that was the only arena in which I could earn his affection for a day. Grace was elusive and temporary. Disappearing in the face of my sin faster than snow in the face of the sun.

I was the worse employee in God’s company. He had plans for me, but I kept finding ways to mess them up. I was forever on the verge of getting fired from his team for my complete and utter incompetence.

That is what I used to think, but the God of today is making that hard to believe anymore.

So I’ve been writing small reminders. Gingerbread size notes as I continue walking back home. Here’s one I stuck on my computer the other day.

I hope if you’re unlearning God, too, that this note will serve as a simple reminder of his love.

 

The cold, hard truth about phones in church.

I realized this about me the other day. Be honest, have you ever caught yourself doing the same thing?

Something no one does at church in Massachusetts.

I’ve never written about “speaking in tongues” because I don’t have a lot of experience with it.

My church experience is based on the Southern Baptist Church my dad started in the 1980s in Massachusetts.

I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in Massachusetts. But if my dad had kicked things off in that car wash we rented as a church with speaking in tongues, I can tell you how many people would have attended: 4.

Me, my mom, my brother Bennett, and my dad. (My brother Will probably would have skipped, too, because even as a kindergartener he wasn’t into speaking in tongues.)

But despite a background that did not prepare me to be an expert on this topic, I do have a friend named Mike who had a rather comical experience with speaking in tongues.

He was new to Christianity. (I won’t ever say the phrase “Baby Christian,” because that makes it sound like you’re going to scream on planes and refuse to put pants on.) And one Sunday he and his wife were at church when someone started speaking in tongues, or “Glossolalia” as you might know it. (You don’t use that word regularly? Weird.)

For minutes, this woman at the back of the sanctuary was disambiguating. (Not that one either? Jeez.)

Mike couldn’t understand what she was saying and thought she might be speaking in another language. She was experiencing a bit of “xenoglossy” if you will. (I am now officially out of words I looked up on Wikipedia.)

Mike sat there while the service continued. (It does continue in situations like that, right? Again, I’m a Massachusetts Southern Baptist. I didn’t even know you guys were using handbells until I came to Alabama for college.)

Out of nowhere, Mike started to understand what she was saying. Her words suddenly made sense to his ears. Like a switch had been flipped, he could interpret what she was saying. Overwhelmed with the joy of what he assumed was the arrival of a new spiritual gift, Mike turned to his wife, beaming. “I can understand her! I can understand her! I have whatever gift that is! I can hear exactly what she’s saying now!”

Expecting his wife to hug him with excitement, thrilled that her husband was so gifted, she turned instead to Mike and said simply, “We can all understand what she’s saying. She’s talking in English now, not tongues.”

I don’t know if Mike heard the sad “Whaa Whaa” trumpet sound in his head over all the people speaking in tongues, but I did when he told the story.

Question:

Have you ever had any experience with speaking in tongues?

Shouting back at the pastor

(It’s guest post Friday!  Here’s one by Ernie Garcia. You can check out his blog here and follow him on Twitter @RabbiDoom.   If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

Shouting back at the pastor

The church I attend is very hip. The pastors have tattoos. Our worship leaders could be considered metrosexual. We are opposed to the idea of “religion,” and we even have a hip name: Celebration. (There a growing number of churches in town with hip names: The Rock, The Well, The Bridge, Life Bridge, The Word, but that’s another post.)

One thing that sets us apart from the overly-religious people we like to talk smack about is our affinity for shouting back at the pastor.

Now, it might very well be only a charismatic church thing but shouting back at the pastor requires more than just being moved by what he or she is saying. It also takes skill, timing, and style.

If you feel like you’re ready to take that step, here is an easy how-to guide to doing so.

#1: Am I ready to shout back at the pastor?  The answer to this depends on three things:

Where do you sit in the sanctuary? People who sit in the back typically do not shout back at the pastor; they tend to be arm-raisers, hand-wavers, and clappers. Whereas people who sit in the first few rows are seemingly required to shout back.

How long you’ve been attending this church? First-time visitors generally keep quiet as well. I would suggest a good four weeks of regular attendance before any shouting. Work your way up. Start with head-nodding, then arm-raising, then soft replies, and eventually you’ll be ready for full-on shouting.

How cool are the people around you with shouting? Really, this doesn’t matter, because if you’re led to shout, then shout away you radical Christian! Don’t let others dictate your response to the Word. I only added it because I needed a third criterion. Lists with two items are dumb.

Once you’ve found your spot for optimal shouting and have been at your church for a sufficient amount of time, you’re ready to move on to shouting back.

#2: What exactly should I say? In my experience, here is a list of words/phrases that are acceptable as a “shout-back:”

Amen!
Hallelujah!
Yes!
That’s right!
Yes, sir!
C’mon!
That’s good!
Awesome!
Praise Jesus!
Preach!

Conversely, there are also some things that probably wouldn’t go over so well:

Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?
I disagree!
Your hermeneutic is flawed!
That’s what she said!
I don’t get it!

I suppose so long as you weren’t the only one shouting at a particular time, you may be able to get away with one of these, but I wouldn’t take a chance.

#3: When do I shout? I suggest a general rule of thumb would be if the pastor shouts, you can shout. If something really moves you or hits home, then I think a quick “Amen,” or “That’s right!” would be ok.

I think it would be beneficial to figure out when it would not be ideal to shout back:

During the altar call: Imagine the pastor has just finished a great message and wants to give those who are there a chance to give or rededicate their lives to Jesus.

Pastor: “And now, I want to ask everyone hear to bow their heads and close their eyes.”

You: “YES SIR!”

“If you’ve been living in sin, we want you to know there’s another way. There’s a God who loves you… ”

You: “AMEN!”

“A God who sent His son to die for you…”

You: [Jumping to your feet] That’s good! Awesome! Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?!

Another good rule of thumb is if the pastor starts using his/her quiet voice (I’m sure you know your pastor’s quiet voice), it’s probably not a good time.

Ok, I think we’ve figured out the how, when, and what of shouting back. Let’s assume you’re ready to try it. Your first few attempts go fine. I think we’re ready to move to the next level.

#4: Flare. It’s not enough to simply shout back from your chair (Yes, chair. Our church is so hip, we don’t even have pews.)

There are several things you can do to jazz up your shouting:

Stand up.
Stand up and throw one arm in the air.
Stand up and throw both arms in the air.
Hold your Bible in the air (only real Bibles, no phones or iPads).
Jump up and down a little.

And, there are things that will not jazz up your shouting:

Throwing things at the pastor.
Cartwheels.
Chanting, “U-S-A! U-S-A!”

For most charismatic pastors, it’s actually beneficial for the audience to shout back. It helps them know when they have made a point, and that the audience “gets it.” It also energizes them if an audience “pulls on the gift” as I’ve heard it said—kind of like musicians.

But, Ernie, I’m an introvert and can’t picture myself doing this.

Well, so am I, and I may not be the flashiest shouter, but I still make it work.

In the end, it all comes down to whether or not you hear something that moves you. And, considering everything God has done for me, I can’t help but shout. (Did that feel a little Jesus Jukey? I didn’t mean it to, but it’s true!)

Now you know how to shout too.

Question:

Have you ever heard anyone shout back at the pastor at church?

(For more great writing from Ernie, check out his blog.)

Help! Who reads Stuff Christians Like?

3 years ago I did a reader poll to learn about you and get your ideas on how to make Stuff Christians Like more awesome. (Shorter posts? More photos? Less references to the Newsies? Etc.) Today I think it’s time to do another one.

This poll personally took me 135 seconds to complete. Think you can beat my time?

Go for it. If you fill out the survey, please comment on this post so that I can enter you for a chance to win an autographed copy of all three of my books. (Quitter, SCL and Gazelles.)

This blog has been around for 4 years. Your ideas helps me keep it fresh and learn a little more about you. Thanks for your help! (Shout out to Michael Hyatt, who has an amazing survey that I was inspired by. By “inspired” I mean, “Copied almost verbatim.”)

Click here to fill out the new SCL Reader Poll. 

Why people think Christians are fake.

There was no yelling or screaming.

Nobody raised their voices there in the green room.

Nobody slammed their hands down on a table of free granola bars in rage.

It wasn’t that type of argument at all, but a worship leader and I did end up discussing something I strongly disagreed with. (It wasn’t about ending sentences with prepositions. I clearly have no problem with that.)

The worship leader I talked to said when he performed “Come Thou Fount,” he changed the lyrics.

I love that hymn.

For years, I listened to the version Jadon Lavik did. My favorite verse, the one I found most encouraging, when things felt the darkest in my spiritual walk, was this one:

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,

prone to leave the God I love;

here’s my heart, O take and seal it,

seal it for thy courts above.

I would like to say that, when I became a Christian, I quit making mistakes. I quit sinning. I quit being “prone to wander,” but the truth is I still fail. More than I’d like to. And the beauty of that song and the honesty of that last verse meant a lot to me.

So what verse was the worship leader changing?

That one.

His argument? He wasn’t “prone to wander or prone to leave.”

At this point in the conversation, I realized he was not like me.

Or Peter.

Or David.

Or “That’s not my wife, that’s my sister!” Abraham.

He was changing the lyrics to something like, “Prone to worship, prone to praise.”

And I thought about changing them too. Only mine would probably be, “Prone to bolt out the door like a dog if I see it cracked open for but the briefest of seconds, Prone to need grace one thousand times, for the things I promised myself I’d never do again but still did. ”

I’ve seen arguments online about the definition of the word “prone,” and maybe you can make a case there. (Then again, when we sing that God is a lion inside us, nobody argues that technically speaking, you don’t have a real lion inside you.) And I know the sad backstory of the guy who wrote the original hymn. But when people think Christians are fake, I think this is part of the reason why.

We tell each other we’re not prone to wander.

We act like our days of falling down are forever behind us.

And we create environments where no one can be honest.

You can’t share your whole life with somebody when the expectation is that you don’t fail.

You can only share the victories. And if you don’t have any victories that day or week, you better act like you do. Because as a Christian, you shouldn’t be prone to wander. And if you have, you just might not be a real Christian after all.

How to make sure someone steals your kid’s lunch money.

If you want to make sure someone steals your kid’s lunch money so they are unable to buy a “pizza burger,” the most delicious thing our elementary school served, send them back to school with this notebook:

This is the longest sermon at your church.

Thinking about going to church for the first time?

Awesome. There’s a lot you need to know.

Like, there’s a secret bathroom.

You might get a gospel gift bag.

Nobody interlinks digits when a minister asks everyone to hold hands.

Stuff like that.

But there’s something else I need to let you know about before you visit, because nobody really talks about this. It’s a secret.

Here it is:

The longest church service is the one at the end of the day.

I don’t care where you go to church, this is true. If your church has a 9:00, 10:30 and 12:00 service, the 12:00 will be the longest.

An 8:00 and 11:00? The 11:00 is going to be longest.

Why? There’s no deadline. In the first service, the minister had to be careful about time because of the pressure from the second service. There was at least a rough cut off to the message. Trust me, I speak in churches sometimes and they tell you things like:

“In the first service, you’ve got 22 minutes to speak. We’ve got deacons with air horns that will blow an alarm if you go over. We also have a small jungle cat, won’t tell you what kind, that we release from the baptismal if you go over. First service is 22 minutes. Got it? We clear? Good. Last service? Preach for 4 hours if the spirit moves you.”

Extra Bible verses? Check.

4 sermon illustrations instead of 3? Check.

Removal of coat and watch? Check

You better buckle up, my friend. It’s going to be a long one if you attend the last service of the day.

Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

Question:

Am I wrong? Is it different at your church?

The Like Ninja

(It’s guest post Friday!  Here’s one by the Like Ninja. The Like Ninja wants to be anonymous, so there’s no link to their their blog or Tweets here.  If you want to write a guest post for SCL, here’s how!)

The Like-Ninja

I get way too excited when you click “Like” on one of my comments. I may even use the word “giddy.” Your small gesture of approval totally makes my day. If I hit a certain number of “Likes” on my comment, I even feel compelled to tell my wife about my success. “Look, honey! Your father was wrong about me! Let’s print this out and stick it on the refrigerator!”

About a year ago, I heard a sermon about encouragement. The pastor said those who encourage others are more likely to feel encouraged themselves. In true “opportunistic Christian” fashion, I realized that I should start leveraging the “Like” function to encourage as many people as possible.

And like any rational guy, I figured out how this mission makes me a ninja. It’s pretty obvious when you think about it.

Every time I read an SCL post, I sweep through the comments section clicking “Like” on every single comment, no matter what it says. If you read Stuff Christians Like with any regularity, then you are already one of my victims.

You never saw me coming. You didn’t know I was there, lurking, just waiting for the right moment. To you, it was just Tuesday and you were telling us all how one of Jon’s posts about booty or something touched your life.

Then suddenly, you looked down and there was a tiny throwing knife of love stuck in your comment.

Soon, I realized that I had become the sole and founding member of the Secret Order of the Like-Ninjas. And like any good secret order, I decided that I needed a code.

The Following is The Way of the Like-Ninja:

1.)   The Like-Ninja does not discriminate. The mission of the Like Ninja is simple: to use their lethal Like-Jitsu to offer encouragement to everyone, no matter who they are or what they’re saying. The Like-Ninja does not choose sides in comment thread debates. It doesn’t matter if the Like Ninja disagrees with your position. They will still nail you with a jump-spinning-encouragement-kick to the face. “BAM! You are worth loving!”

2.)   The Like-Ninja remains anonymous. The objective of the Like-Ninja is not to say “Hey, great comment! You should also check out my comment/ blog/ Facebook/ Twitter!” That type of click-looting is what Like-Pirates are notorious for. Instead, the Like-Ninja’s most important weapon is the anonymity provided by liking as the mysterious “Guest.” The Like-Ninja has no interest in gaining recognition for themselves and their efforts. The Like-Ninja knows they are merely a face(book)less vessel for a greater cause.

3.)   The Like-Ninja makes it look easy. Or at least, it would look easy if you could see them. The Like-Ninja moves swiftly, leveraging the ease of the “Like” function to deftly sweep undetected through masses of unsuspecting commenters. Encouragement comes easily to the Like-Ninja, and they dole it out like throwing stars.

Like any ninja, the like-ninjas are hard to spot. But maybe these traits will help you spot one the next time your comment gets one or two mysterious likes.

Question: How are you encouraging other people online?

Have you found your secret rope swing yet?

Finding out a wild truth is like discovering a secret rope swing into a river in the woods.

You can’t help but run as fast as you can to immediately tell everyone. And that swing for me was the moment I realized the world was more malleable than I had been told for years.

If you want to change it, you can.

I used to think that was just something other people got to do. More talented people. More interesting people. People who hadn’t made the quantity or quantity of mistakes I made. They were the ones who got to change the world.

I was wrong and upon learning that, I ran as fast as I could to tell other people. That’s why I started the Quitter Conference. Because I wanted others to know they could change the world too and have an incredibly fun time while doing it.

That’s also why I asked my friends at Hello Somebody to help me bring the band Seryn to this year’s conference. They’re friends and after seeing Seryn play to 12,000 people at Catalyst and what happened in that arena when they did, I thought to myself, “Imagine if they played for a room full of friends in Nashville? How awesome would that be?”

So on the opening night of the Quitter Conference, September 21 Seryn is doing a concert. Why? Because they don’t just play music, they create slingshots. Moments that propel you into believing what God taught me to believe a few years ago:

If you want to change the world you can.

And at minute 4 of this song, you just might start to believe that too.

(The conference is almost sold out. If you haven’t found your rope swing yet or want to know how to share the one you found with the most people possible, sign up today.)