The geography of grace.

The geography of grace.

I think there are only two types of people in this world, those that can sit in someone else’s seat at an event and those that can’t. I’m talking about people who have horrible seats and decide to sit in nicer seats until they’re kicked out.

I can’t do this. I can’t enjoy the event knowing that at any moment I am going to be exposed as an imposter, ousted by an usher and another attendee that is frustrated at me for daring to dream of having such a nice seat. I was reminded of this the other night when I went to see the North Carolina Tarheels play in Chapel Hill.

A group of guys told us we were in the wrong section when we tried to move them from what we thought were our seats. So I grabbed the usher and gave him my ticket. He walked down the stairs a few rows and then basically eviscerated the guys. The sentence he said won’t seem like much, it’s not that boisterous or neon with sarcasm, but I promise, when he said it I cringed inside.

He bent low, held my ticket about a foot in front of the guy in my seat and calmly said, “Do you have this ticket?”

There is only one answer to that question. The gentleman in my seat could not have that ticket because as the world could see it was clearly in the usher’s hand. The guy fumbled for a few seconds and then cleared out in a general air of embarrassment.

I’ve thought about that simple sentence for a few days. It stuck inside, left a thumbprint on me and I’ve figured out why. I’ve heard it before.

Maybe not exactly those words. Maybe not in the middle of a college basketball game, but I’ve heard that question a thousand times. It is the question I ask myself when I get drunk on doubt. “Do you belong here?” It is the question the world asks me too often. “Are you sure you should be a writer?” It is the question the enemy asks when the night is dark and long and I’ve messed up somehow. “Are you sure you should be where the Lord is, look how dirty and broken you are?”

What a crippling thought that is. That you’re in the wrong place. That the ticket in your pocket isn’t really yours. You are an imposter. You are in the wrong seat, the wrong job, the wrong marriage, the wrong college. You are not where you are supposed to be.

The question of where do I belong is one of the central ideas dissected in the story of the Prodigal Son. There are three viewpoints expressed, three different looks at location and the sense of belonging.

The first is from the Prodigal Son himself. He thinks he belongs on the farm, but not as a son. He believes he should be a servant. His sense of belonging comes with conditions, a performance he must accomplish in order to be where he wants to be. Have you ever done that? Tried to get closer to God by performing the right way? Tried to belong through activity?

The second point of view is from the older brother and his comes with consequences. He rejects the idea that the Prodigal Son should be on the farm at all. In his mind, where you belong can be irrevocably lost. In his mind, there is no putting back together the pieces once they have broken. Once you’re out, you’re out for good. This kind of thought is one of the reasons that when pastors make big gross mistakes and are kicked out without any sort of support people often say, “the church is the only army that shoots it’s wounded.”

The third point of view, the one that matters, is completely different from both of the first two. The father dismisses the idea of letting the son be a servant, in fact he won’t even let him say that. He also rejects the idea of bringing the consequences to the Prodigal Son when the older brother lays out his case. No, instead of conditions or consequences, the father throws a celebration. The only condition he sees is dead or alive. The consequence he believes in is that something lost that is found must be honored. In his world, it’s not just that you belong, you are the guest of honor. The day is yours. It’s the equivalent of having an usher tap you on the shoulder and instead of kicking you out he brings you to better seats. Instead of being rows up from the action, he walks you courtside and makes sure you get all the free food and drinks you want. He gives you the best seat in the entire building.

Conditions. Consequences. Celebrations. I don’t know which word best describes how you’ll spend the last day of the year. But know this, you belong, despite what you feel, despite what you’ve heard or been told. You belong.

This is the geography of grace.

50% off Prodigal Jon Book - A Christmas Miracle!

My friend works for Lulu, the company that printed my book. I saw him last night and punched him in the mouth because it is so expensive. He told me I should try paperback.

So I did, and the result is that the book now costs $9.71.

The hardback was $20.11.

That is crazy.

Here is where to get it: http://www.lulu.com/content/1734977

You can also visit http://www.lulu.com/ and type in Jon Acuff in the search bar.

So for all those people that wanted to buy a bunch, this is your chance.

And if you bought the hardback edition let me know. I'll email you a special post called "It's not me, it's you" as a thank you for the early support.

Merry Christmas

Jon

The book, dozen of copies sold.

The book, dozen of copies sold.

I really wish I could use the letter "s" at the end of the word "dozen." But the singular form of the word is closer to the truth. Recently a reader asked how to buy the book. I hadn't reposted the blog about the book on the new site because I am trying not to be slimy in the amount of times I mention it. But here is how to get it.

http://www.lulu.com/content/1609066

If the link doesn't work, simply go to http://www.lulu.com/ and type Jon Acuff in the search bar.

Thanks for reading.
Jon

How to know if God wants you to wait or run.

How to know if God wants you to wait or run.

A few days ago I wrote a post about the need for us to wait. To slow down for a minute and accept that sometimes it’s not the word “no” we’re hearing, it’s the word “wait.”

A friend of mine named Blake wrote a comment and said the following:

I can identify, but sometimes I think I am the opposite. Sometimes I think God is telling me, "Now! GO! Do it now, Blake!"...but I end up saying, "Hold on, I need to go pray about this first." I tend to over analyze things and look for way too long before leaping.

That comment stuck with me because in some ways I’m wondering the same thing about my book. I initially planned to completely just pimp myself during 2008. Write query letters to literary agents, finish my book proposal, sleep on the doorstep of Thomas Nelson publishing and so on. I thought that was the best way for me to do something for God.

But now I’m not so sure. Now I don’t know if he’s saying wait or go. Be still or be bold and it’s a little confusing. In the midst of this confusion, God dropped a verse into my head that I had never noticed.

The verse is Mark 15:43 and the reason it hid from me all these years is that it occurs in the midst of the crucifixion of Christ. The verse is fairly small and not that crazy. It would be hard to compare it to something from Braveheart or put on a bumper sticker. But in some ways it changed the way I think of waiting and action.

Here is what it says:

43Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus' body.

What makes that verse special to me? It’s simple really. This verse perfectly captures the two different sides of faith. On the one hand Joseph is noted as someone who was “waiting for the kingdom of God.” But then, within the confines of the same exact sentence, he is described as someone that “went boldly.”

He didn’t do one or the other, he did both and I think that’s where I’ve been wrong most of my life. You see, I usually think it’s a one or the other type of world we’re living in. I either wait on God or I run with God. But Joseph did both. He waited and he sprinted. He was calm and bold. Peaceful and busy. (Insert your own two words that feel weird together.)

I know how Blake feels. I feel the same way and maybe I need to do both this year. Maybe I need to chill on pushing the book. And at the same time I need to crush this blog with daily posts and requests that you tell all your friends to check it out.

I’m not entirely sure yet, but one thing I do know. The answer to the question, “Should I wait on God or hustle as hard as I can?” is “Yes.”

p.s.

That post started with an idea from Blake. I would love to write about your questions and ideas. If you have a question or an idea, let me know. You can always email me at theacuffs@yahoo.com.

For those days when I don't believe a single word of this.

For those days when I don't believe a single word of this.

I had coffee with my mentor last night or life coach if you will. He asked me if I was done with the blog, if it was a project that had run its course. The words all said, the ideas all dried up, the clock finally striking midnight turning the carriage back into a pumpkin.

I told him no. I think there are still things to write, people to write to. So I’m going to launch some new things in 2008. I’m going to set some ridiculous goals for the site and then try to reach them day by day.

But some days, if I’m being honest, I just don’t believe in God.

At all.

That’s not the greatest thing to admit, but it’s true. There are some mornings when the size and shape of God kind of overwhelms me. The idea that I have a personal relationship with the ruler of the universe kind of catches up with me. The concept that the person that created the milky way is invested in seeing that my day goes well makes no sense.

And in the midst of that, I find myself surrounded with doubt and frustration. I try to hide it all. To pretend that the questions aren’t there, that what felt so true yesterday doesn’t feel fake today. But I’m starting to feel that doubt is OK. More than that, I’m starting to feel that moments of unbelief are OK.

My favorite example of this is in Mark 9. In a small story, a father with a son who was suffering from convulsions came and asked Christ to heal him. Christ replied:

“Everything is possible for him who believes.”

“Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

I don’t think I ever heard that story growing up but it should be included in every new believer class on the planet. Seriously, if you ever ask questions about God and the bible and faith, one of the first things they should say is, “Welcome to church, let me tell you about this guy that didn’t believe.”

That is such an unexpectedly beautiful story. The thing I really like about it is that it says the father responded “immediately.” He wasn’t ashamed of his unbelief. He exclaimed it instantly. And when he did, Christ struck him down with lightning for not trusting in the Lord. No, that’s not what happened. He healed his son.

I also like that the father did not think it was his job to fix his unbelief. He asked for help. He put the burden of overcoming it on Christ. And more than that, he knew that it was possible to believe and not believe all at once. In the same sentence he claimed both.

I don’t believe some days.

I’m not going to be ashamed of that. I’m just going to ask for a little help.

Something I wrote for North Point.

Something I wrote for North Point

I recently had the chance to write three videos for Andy Stanley's church, North Point Community Church, in Atlanta.

Basically they emailed me three testimonies and I edited them and shaped the flow of the words. The testimonies were strong to begin with so my part was pretty easy.

My friend Carlos of Ragamuffin Soul fame has one of them on his site. Check it out if you get a chance:

http://www.ragamuffinsoul.com/?p=3702

Be sick.

Be sick.

Today at 2:00 I have my annual performance review. Underneath the standard issue fluorescent lights, my boss will detail my successes and my failures for the year 2007. I’d like to say I feel cool and confident, but that would be a lie. Most of the times, in the days leading up to meetings like this, I am convinced I will be fired. I dream up little scenarios about how it will happen. Whether or not they’ll escort me out with a security guard or if they’ll trust me to exit on my own. If my stuff will be boxed up for me in the lobby or if I’ll have to do the walk of shame back to the office to clean it.

It’s not that I’ve been a horrible employee, but the truth is that I could have been better. I could have done more. I could have made less mistakes. Or put my foot in my mouth fewer times. And this sense of performance, this action of taking out the last year and sorting through it on a big table is how I often imagine God to be.

That’s part of the reason yesterday’s post about chronicling my entire life was so difficult. Almost every aspect of my life is performance driven. Everything is a competition. Nothing is fast enough. There’s always a new way to get an edge. I was reminded of this yesterday when I volunteered at the Salvation Army. The motto they had written on our aprons was, “Salvation Army, doing the most good.” Even in our charity there is a system of most and least, first and last.

Taken collectively, there’s really not a whole lot of motivation for me to deal with my junk. But the more I read the Bible, the more I realize that is what God is calling me to do.

One of my favorite examples of this happens in Luke 7. In a series of verses from 36-50, we see a woman “who had lived a sinful life” washing Jesus’ feet with her tears and perfume. The Pharisees quickly point out that she is a sinner, but Christ has a lesson for Simon in all of this.

"Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?"

Simon replied, "I suppose the one who had the bigger debt canceled."

"You have judged correctly," Jesus said.

The story could have ended there, but Jesus went on to summarize it in impossibly simple language.

“Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little."

I honestly don’t know the best way to unpack those passages. They feel like little sticks of dynamite that will go off in my hands if I proceed the wrong way. But what I can do is repeat this, “he who has been forgiven little loves little.”

Maybe your faith is small and anemic because you haven’t really dealt with the things God wants you to deal with. Maybe your love is small because your junk is still big and hidden deep down inside. Maybe as you bring your stuff into the light, you won’t find a performance review. Instead you’ll find your love and your forgiveness growing exponentially.

The other thing I think you find when you deal with your past, is what God has planned for your future. Mark Batterson really said it best in a book he wrote called “In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day.” I’m paraphrasing, but what he believes is that “you can only heal people in the places you’ve been wounded.”

That concept, the idea of turning your hurt into someone else’s healing kind of blew my mind a little. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt like it was true. Not even just in a biblical, kind of God-flavored way, but just as a universal truth.

Think about it, don’t you hate when a friend without experience gives you advice on something you’re going through? They’ve never been engaged but are quite content in telling you how to go about that. They’ve never lost a child but know exactly what you should do. They’ve never been divorced but are pretty sure you need to be reading these three books.

There is such a deep sense of fakeness in that, but when the person has actually walked your road, there is such a sense of beauty.

My friend Victoria is that way. She has experienced a few of the worst things that can ever, ever, ever happen to girls. She has walked through the kinds of situations that cripple people emotionally and spiritually. And yet, she shines.

And the cool thing is that she knows why. Deep down she knows that her pain came with a purpose, and that purpose is to ease the pain of others. She can’t really grasp how big her potential is but I got a glimpse one day in our small group.

We were all supposed to share our stories and the unspoken expectation was that we’d stay fairly surface. “Hi, I grew up in the church. I made some mistakes. I love God. Good to meet you.”

But Victoria didn’t go that route. Victoria used words that hurt people’s stomachs. Victoria turned herself inside out in that room. And as she did, you could see the walls and veneers of everyone crumbling.

Ultimately, she knew something that I only recently learned. It’s not complicated and with only two words, it’s pretty easy. But rarely are you encouraged to do this at church and that is simply this: Be Sick.

Stop pretending. Stop running from whatever it is in your past or your present or your future that you don’t want to deal with. Stop hiding. Stop covering up. Stop laughing at jokes you don’t think are funny or quoting verses you don’t really believe. Stop trying to be so healthy.

Be sick.

This might be the first post that gets me hate mail, but I’m just asking you to do what Christ talks about in Mark 2:17. Here’s what he says:

"It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

I think we waste so much time trying to act like we’re healthy, when Christ is really looking for the sick.

Do you know what my sin is? Do you know what the lies I’ve told my wife and my work, the gossip I’ve spread, the hurt I’ve caused? Do you know what all of that is?

It is a lighthouse for Christ.

It is a magnet that draws him close.

It is a siren that screams through the clutter of this world saying that I am the one he came for. I am the sick. I am the unrighteous. I am the patient in desperate need of a doctor.

Thanks Victoria. Thanks Mallory for reminding her that the first people we might need to be sick with are family. Thanks everyone for reading.

I hope you have a sick day.