serious wednesday

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about feeling convicted over my choice of music. I shared that lately it was getting harder for me to justify the soul-feeding benefits of explicit rap involving strippers and cocaine. (The post was over 1,000 words long, but that’s pretty much the summary.)

Some fun conversation followed in the comments, but one particular thought stood out to me. Here is what someone said in response to what I wrote:

Jon…its all talk until you delete him out of your ITUNES

I really like that comment, because I really want it to be true.

When I bump into challenges in my faith, I want the solution to be as simple as deleting a file from my computer. (Or, in my case, removing it from Spotify.)

I want to press a button, feel a twinge of completeness, and walk away. But there’s a problem: That’s never worked in my life.

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When people talk to me about geography in Nashville, I do one of two things:

1. I nod my head and pretend I know what part of the city they are referring to.

2. I tell them, “I don’t know where that is. We just moved here.”

Neither one of those two responses is entirely true. Pretending I know is not true and saying we just moved here isn’t true. We’ve lived here for 18 months. So why don’t I know my way around town yet?

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“Never offend someone who has a Rottweiler in their profile photo and is in charge of the unofficial Eazy-E fan club.”

That’s a lesson in Twitter etiquette I learned the wrong way. I’ll be teaching folks everything I know about Twitter at the Quitter Conference on February 10 & 11, but that’s a free nugget of wisdom for you.

In my defense, that terrifying gentleman with the threatening vocabulary misinterpreted what I had said about Eazy-E, the 1980s rapper.

Here’s what I tweeted from @jonacuff:

Every time I see Dr. Dre optimizing computers in that HP commercial, I think, “This is exactly what NWA was all about.”

I wasn’t making fun of Easy-E. I was making a social commentary on the unexpected career trajectory of Dr. Dre. There’s not a person alive who heard Dr. Dre in the 1980s and thought, “You know what this guy will be doing in the future? Optimizing computers for Hewlett Packard.”

Next thing I know, I’m involved in a tweet battle with a guy in Compton.

Lesson learned.

But in addition to picking up wisdom like that on Twitter, I discovered something else really interesting the other day. And it came to me in the form of a virus.

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Do you ever feel like God is ignoring you?

Like he’s screening your calls and hitting decline when he sees your name pop up on his iPhone?

You keep throwing out the same question to him and you’re getting nothing.

No nudge from the Holy Spirit. No wise counsel in the form of friends. No handwriting on the wall.

I have and I’m in the middle of one of those moments right now.

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We’re all curious about that on some level, especially at this time of year. As we reflect back on the year with joy or sadness or a mix of both, we reassess the last twelve months and wonder what the next twelve will hold. Can we be part of something bigger than ourselves?

What does that really look like?

A little over two years ago, I asked you that when I told you a story called “what if?” I asked you if we could be bigger than a blog. I asked you if we could try something more than a little crazy. I asked you if we could try it together.

Your answer was a resounding yes.

Here, from start to finish, is a Serious Wednesday story about the crazy adventures our big God can take us on.

 

How do you make cobra wine?

I’m glad you asked because recently on our trip to Vietnam, I learned the recipe.

Step 1 – Catch cobra.
Step 2 – Put cobra in jug of rice wine.
Step 3 – Seal lid on. Tightly.

From what I can tell, the hardest part of making cobra wine is catching the cobra, but isn’t that true of most cobra-based beverages?

What’s that you say? You’re more of a scorpion wine guy? You feel like it tends to have better undertones of raspberry and oak and scorpion? I’ve heard that myself.

But I can’t say for certain, as I didn’t taste either variety of wine. (Although I hear 2009 was a particularly excellent vintage of cobra.)

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The Bible is full of examples of God giving someone a new name, their true name. After a season of struggle or redemption, God bestows a new identity on someone. Saul becomes Paul. Abram becomes Abraham. Jacob becomes Israel.

My favorite example is a little less obvious though. The name change is not so direct, but it is powerful. And I uncovered it while working on what might someday be a book about the prodigal son.

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This summer I got empty.

I wasn’t tired.

I wasn’t drained.

I didn’t melt down or burn out.

I got empty.

And it was awesome.

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If Men’s Health magazine was true, you would never need to buy more than one issue. If the articles that promised flat abs and less stress and better sex really worked as promised, you’d never need to have a subscription because every issue is the exact same thing. This was the thought I had while standing at the magazine rack at Wal-Mart watching my daughters read My Little Pony books. (Long live Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie by the way. Toola-Roola is a punk. I don’t even know what Toola-Roola is into, at least Rainbow Dash is all about rainbows.)

As I stood there, though, I noticed something else kind of weird. The promises that the front cover of men’s magazines make were eerily similar to the promises that the back cover of Christian books make. So I thought it might be fun to play a little guessing game and see if you can figure out which is which:

1. “Build your perfect life and strip away stress for good”
A. Front Cover of Men’s Magazine
B. Back Cover of Christian Book

2. “The Secret to Effortless Success”
A. Front Cover of Men’s Magazine
B. Back Cover of Christian Book

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A few weeks ago, my wife made Thai soup. I don’t know the exact name, but I do know it was delicious. I’m not just saying that because she reads this blog and I find her incredibly attractive. The soup was honestly good.

I’d never had it before, but it had some sort of coconut milk, pepper, curry, flavor explosion thing going on. In the middle of the meal, I saw a thin, innocent looking red pepper in my spoon. As with most times I’ve eaten a meal, I then took the spoon and put the contents of it in my mouth. (Are you eating differently? Not putting the concave end of the spoon in your mouth? Interesting.)

That was apparently the wrong thing to do, because the second I bit into that pepper, a small fire erupted in my mouth.

I’ve eaten hot stuff before. I giggle at wasabi at sushi restaurants. I laugh at hot salsa at Mexican restaurants. But this was like something I’ve never experienced. I didn’t have the mental will power to physically beat this pepper. My eyes immediately started pouring tears that I can only assume were made of fire. My tongue felt like lightning, and my lips started to debate with each other whether they should blister or not.

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