Stuff Christians Like (4 page)

My hope is that this book will become some sort of weird witnessing tool because it’s pretty subtle. Not sure about a friend’s view of Christianity? Show him this book. If he says, “Ugh, I hate Christians. They’re so judgmental,” then flip to the essay titled, “Being Slightly Less Nice Than Mormons” and tell him, “This author thinks that too. You’ll love this book.” If he replies, “I’m a Christian too,” keep this page open and show him these exact words and then write me an email that says, “You just blew my mind, Jonathan Acuff,” because I did.

Christians like their pastors humble, and by humble I mean driving a domestically made mid-sized sedan with high mileage.

I’m not saying I want my pastor to be poor, just that my assumption is that to be a man of the cloth means the seats in your car shouldn’t be made of leather. I’m fine if you have a luxury car, if it was a gift from a church member who happens to own a car dealership. Otherwise, I want to be honest, if I see you driving around in a tricked-out Mercedes-Benz, my first two thoughts are going to be:

1. I guess that pastor hates starving children in Africa.
   
2. I had no idea my tithe was going directly to the procurement of rims.
   

I want you in a hooptie, not a whip. I want you on a donkey, not a Denali. I want you to know the moral fortitude that comes with having to push a car off the side of the road at least twice a year when it breaks down.

Me? What am I driving? Whoa, let’s get back on topic; you’re the Varsity Christian, not me. If God chooses to bless me with a Rolls Royce, should I refuse that? Would Abraham or Solomon have scoffed at God’s gifts? Think of the great witnessing I can do simply by driving down the highway with spinning rims. Think of the lives that will be touched and transformed when I pull up to a red light and make an automotive declaration, a vehicular proclamation if you will, to the goodness and graciousness of God.

But pastors? You better keep it low key.

Christians try. We try so hard to get this one right, but it just keeps slipping through our fingers. We want to have a steady, regular, consistent, God-is-happy-with-us quiet time, but it’s such an on-again, off-again rollercoaster. This is it though. We’re getting serious this time. That sermon we heard on Sunday drove home the point that we need a daily quiet time.

The pastor didn’t actually say that phrase. He said “personal worship,” or maybe “private discipline.” He said one of those phrases because “quiet time” sounds kind of churchy and old-fashioned. Regardless, we need one. Some time to be still with God and read our Bible and pray. So we committed. For the next thirty days, it is so
on.
I can’t wait. This time’s going to be different!

Day one.
Monday is theoretically a good day to start my new thirty-day quiet time commitment, but this Monday happens to fall in the middle of the month. Who starts things on the sixteenth of the month? New things should be started at the beginning of the month, or if you really want to ensure success, the beginning of the year. That’s the money date right there, January 1. I wish it wasn’t October 16th. Nothing good has ever been started on October 16th. Should I wait ten weeks to start my quiet time in the New Year? Probably not. Okay Monday, let’s do this.

Day two.
Day one was easy. I just started in Genesis and read a little and prayed before work. It’s got to be during the morning. There’s something doubly Christian about mornings, and if I miss that time, my whole day is shot. God is not cool with me doing my quiet time during lunch or in the early afternoon, and certainly not at night. God is an early bird; satan is a night owl. Everyone knows that.

Day three.
Ugh, day three was harder. I just couldn’t get up today and slept through my quiet-time hour. I managed to read
a Bible verse online when I got to work though. And I said a little prayer to God in the elevator when I came into the building. That’s still a pretty good quiet time. Streak unbeaten. Three days down, twenty-seven to go.

Day four.
I don’t know if you can technically be quiet and listening to a sermon at the same time, but that’s what I did for my quiet time today. There was just so much going on at work that I had to come in early. So instead of praying or being still or anything like that, I just listened to a podcast of a sermon while I filed some reports. It was hard to concentrate, but occasionally I would hear the minister say words like “God” and “Jesus,” and I would perk up and put the filing down at work for a minute. Take that, day four.

Day five.
God loves music. I’m pretty sure David used to sing in the book of Psalms. And they were always lifting their voices to him in the temple. I don’t know if Jesus and the disciples ever jammed around the campfire at night though. Maybe they had a harp or something. Did the disciples play harps, or is that only angels? A harp is a really hard instrument to transport unless it’s a mini angel harp. I should look that up, but I haven’t been able to get very far in Matthew yet. I wanted to today, but traffic was worse than I expected. So I prayed in the car and listened to some of my favorite worship music. God is a fan of Steve Fee and Chris Tomlin, so I’m marking that down as quiet time. Five days!

Day six.
Do the weekends count? Do I really need to sit still and listen and pray and read my Bible for it to be considered an official quiet time? I played with my kids a lot this weekend, and God gave them to me and wants me to be a good father, so I’m counting our game of wiffle ball as quiet time. Hooray for six days!

Day seven.
God made me unique. He handcrafted me to respond to this world in special, beautiful ways. And one of the things he gifted me with is an appreciation for college basketball. What joy that brings to my heart. How I cry out to the heavens, “Go, Tar Heels!” They played last night and it was a
special time for God and me to share, as we both watched athletes he has gifted with tremendous dunking ability soar about the floor with grace and beauty. Plus, during a timeout, I looked out the window and saw a bush, which reminded me of God’s glory and nature and all that. So that makes seven days in a row doing a quiet time.

This is going to be a lot easier than I thought.

If you’re a Christian who drinks a beer after mowing the lawn or has a glass of red wine with dinner, there’s a sneaky little game you play when you meet new Christians. It’s called, “Do These Christians Drink Too?”

The reason you play this game is not that you’re afraid of looking bad in front of people who don’t drink. I have friends who choose not to drink, and they never get on me about having a beer. They never try to choke-hold me for drinking wine. Not at all. But there are people who will leg drop you if they find out you drink. They’ll say things like, “I really think all the bad things that happen to you are because God is punishing you for starting to have mixed drinks.” That’s a real quote. From a friend.

There’s never been a good way to smoke these people out, a guide, as it were, to find out who’s going to punch you in the face with judgment and who’s going to love you, regardless of what you’re drinking…until now.

This is the Official
Stuff Christians Like
Subtle Guide to Finding Out If Another Christian Drinks Too. (The OSCLSGTFOIACDT, if you will):

When you’re going to visit someone’s house, call a few days beforehand and offer to “bring anything you need, like drinks.” Make sure you stress the word
anything
over and over again. What’s so great about this technique is that it puts the pressure back on them. Now they’re faced with the decision to ask you to bring wine or Sprite.

Studies show that 78 percent of all Christians hide their beer in the garage when people they don’t know will come over. Okay, I conducted the study myself, but trust me, it’s true. Make up an
excuse to go to the garage and then poke around. Don’t snoop. Snooping is what the lady on
Murder, She Wrote
did. Just poke. There’s a huge difference.

This one is easy to execute. Just look at their keychain. If they have a bottle opener on it, you’re all set. No one ever drinks enough old-timey soda to need a bottle opener around all the time. Speaking of soda, bring over a six pack of old-school soda as a housewarming gift. Make sure you bring bottles with tops that won’t unscrew. Then watch carefully to see what they do next. Do they instantly go to the drawer where the bottle opener is? Do they seem familiar with this task? Does it fit the contour of their hand easily from years of usage? Is there a picture of Bud Light’s dog, Spuds Mackenzie, on the opener, indicating that it is a trusted friend dating back to the mid-eighties?

One of my favorite places on the planet is the Garage Cafe & Bar in Birmingham, Alabama. It’s an antique store built out of old horse stalls, with a huge open courtyard that spills a sea of statues and period furniture under a blanket of white Christmas lights and dark sky. At night, it’s a beautiful place to have a beer and feel poetic. If I tell you that story and the only words you hear are “bar” and “beer,” then chances are we feel different about drinking. Tell a story about a place you’ve visited and see if the first reaction is, “A bar? You went to a bar? Do you think you’ll be in the hot part of hell or the wicked-hot part?”

I guess at the end of the day you could just quit playing games with their heart and ask them directly: “Did you know Sam Adams Summer Ale has grains of paradise in it? It’s a spice that someone felt deserved the name ‘grains of paradise.’ That’s like building a car and naming it ‘super duper awesome bestest car in the world.’ Do you enjoy premium beer like I do?”

It must not be easy to be a Christian band these days. When you say, “We’re a Christian band,” people probably ask you things like, “Really? Which one of you is in charge of releasing the doves during your performance?” Or, “Do you take a love offering before you rock or after you rock?” Or, “How many of your songs discuss punching the devil directly in the face? Half…or all?”

There’s gotta be
some
downside to being labeled a Christian band because an entire underground of secret Christian bands has developed over the last fifteen years. I don’t know where they came from, but occasionally while you’re listening to the radio or watching the television show
So You Think You Can Dance
, your friend will lean over and whisper quietly, “Those guys are Christian.” Or
Rolling Stone
will “out them” in a review of their record and ask nine God-flavored questions and one album question in an interview.

We all know they’re out there, but what does it take to become one? What if you’re a budding musician with deep faith who wants to quietly join the underground Christian band movement? Here’s how you can secretly apply for membership:

I love the band name “Demon Hunter,” but there’s no pretending they’re not a Christian band. It’s like naming your band, “satan Groin Kickers.” Way, way too obvious. Try to shoot for something middle of the road. “Staind” would be a great name if it weren’t already taken. Do they mean they’re “staind” as in damaged beyond repair? Or do they mean they’re “staind” as in covered by the blood of Jesus? Aim for something like that. It should be melancholy but also possibly uplifting if viewed through the filter of grace. And on a side note, I’m pretty sure bands like “Staind” are the reason extra “e’s” started showing
up in all our church names, like Crosspointe, Lifepointe, Truth-pointe, etc. Maybe we traded them some amps for their e’s.

At some point, this is going to come up, and you have to be ready. When anyone asks, answer, “No, we’re not a Christian band. We’re a band of Christians.” I love this one because it works on so many levels outside of music. “Are you a Christian ultimate Frisbee team? No, we’re an ultimate Frisbee team of Christians.” See? Isn’t that nice? The circular logic of this will usually baffle people enough that you can quietly slip out of the room. If it doesn’t, just tell them you’re a guild, not a band. They’ll assume you’re quoting
Lord of the Rings
, and then you can talk about New Zealand for the rest of the night. Which I hear is a lovely place.