Jon Acuff's Blog, page 164

This is like a hat trick of awesomeness! For $10, right now you can pre-order my new book, "Gazelles, Baby Steps And 37 Other Things Dave Ramsey Taught Me About Debt," and get the audio book and e-book versions FREE.

Let's repeat that, for $10 you get all three versions of the book.

I read the audio book and we added a bunch of funny stuff, including some exclusive chapters that aren't in the book. It's going to be a blast.

The book releases November 30 and makes a really fun Christmas gift.

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A few months ago, I wrote an article on Stuff Christians Like about sex. CNN.com picked it up and it got a lot of attention on the homepage of their site. Out of nowhere my wife got emails from folks she hadn't heard from in a while that essentially said, "Hey Jenny! Saw your sex life on the homepage of CNN."

You're not going to believe this, but my wife was embarrassed by that. Who knew?

So let me come right out of the gate and say this:

"This post is not about anyone in particular."

This post isn't about anyone specific. I'm not secretly calling out anyone. There's no incident or family I'm thinking about right now.

There, I feel better already, but can we talk about one thing? Can we all discus one idea?

What do you do when you have good friends who are raising punk kids?

Maybe this has never happened to you. Maybe you've never had close friends make some crazy parenting decisions. Maybe you've never had good friends laugh casually as their kid punches yours in the face or knocks over a vase or teaches your kid how to swear. Maybe you don't have anyone in your circle of friends who has a teenager sized blind spot right now. If that's the case, well that's awesome. You are living a charmed life my friend.

But if you haven't escaped life so easily, if you've ever had to wrestle with what to do when close friends raise punks, let's look at a few questions:

1. We should pray, right?

I mean ultimately, we don't get a free pass on love your neighbor. If your friend is raising a punk, we need to give them grace. Loads and loads of grace. We need to love them and not end our relationships over stuff like this, but at the same time, we need to love our own kids. I'm not going to use my 5 year old as an unwilling missionary to change other kids. I'm not going to "voluntold" her into doing things that will be harmful for her. The Bible is jam packed with verses about the need to be careful about who we let influence us and your kids are little sponges. So where's the line?

2. We should bite our tongues, right?

A dad once told us, "I'm stuck. My two year old refuses to leave the playground." He was trapped in a two foot tall, goldfish eating prison. And in that moment, watching the little boy take his tantrum to terror level red status, I wanted to say, "Anything that only weighs 27 pounds is always movable. You're never really physically trapped by someone who can be carried in one arm." But I didn't say anything because I tend to be such a jerk in situations like that. We're supposed to bite our tongues, right?

3. We can still hang out, right?

When we run into this situation, the temptation is to just break up with your friends. You and your wife will talk and decide, "We're done. That last thing with the mongoose was the final straw. Where does a six year old even get a mongoose? That thing had inconceivable ferocity." And so, you decide to break up with your friends. But here's the thing, maybe your friends are having a hard time right now and this is the absolute worst time to stop hanging out with them. Just because you don't want your kids being influenced by theirs doesn't mean you can't hang out as a couple and go to dinner. Leave your kids with a sitter.

4. What if we're the parents with the punk kids?

We've all got blind spots, areas in our lives where we just don't see what's really going on. For instance, I thought I was street until I made a joke about NWA on Twitter and a rap fan with a pit bull in his twitter profile swore at me 19 times and told me I "looked like I grew up on a farm." Hip hop street cred is apparently a blind spot for me. I just don't have it. But maybe the blind spot is our own kids. Maybe we don't see that we're making some bad decisions with our kids. We all need people who love us enough to tell us the things we don't want to hear. Without "mirror friends," folks who will reflect the truth back to us, we all end up making decisions we might regret.

There's not an easy answer to this one. We've got to give grace. But sometimes, you might need to love your friend but also say, "Hey, I'm not OK with you guys all singing along to Katy Perry songs when you car pool my 4 year old home from pre-school. The other day she asked me if her Osk Kosh were 'skin tight jeans,' and started singing 'Teenage Dream.'" You might have to say that. That might happen. And that's OK. Life is messy. Friends are messy. And parenting? That's probably the messiest thing of all.

Has this ever happened to you?

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Christmas is right around the corner. (If you live at the Acuff house, it's already here as we enjoy the Mariah Carey Christmas album starting in November.)

I thought it might be fun to do a huge Christmas month at Stuff Christians Like. But what should we write about? What Christmas related ideas do we need to cover?

Carols? Fantastical church musicals? The donkey in the live manger that always tries to bite everyone? The reason for the season?

What should we talk about on Stuff Christians Like this Christmas?

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(Yesterday, the server at Stuff Christians Like just quit. Monday's post about the new book I wrote was the largest traffic day in SCL's 2 year history and the server cried like an NFL player dumped by a Kardashian. We're upgrading the server as we speak and posting a comment takes about 7 seconds to load right now but it should work. In the meantime, below is the post we didn't get to see. And if it ever happens again, you can get updates by following me on Twitter .)

Last night on Twitter, I felt like the Stuff Christians Like bat signal lit up.

Out of nowhere, about 10 different people linked me to a new site and essentially said, Prodigaljohn has to talk about this. When I went to the site, I realized that other bloggers had already talked about it. Months ago.

So on second thought, it wasn't like the bat signal was lit. It was more like the Nightwing signal was lit, the superhero Robin became after he broke up with Batman. (Why didn't I date much in high school? Girls like comic book knowledge right? Ladies?)

The site my friends linked me to was billed as offering a Christian version of Twitter. Being somewhat of an expert on Christians taking popular secular ideas and putting a God spin on them, four thoughts instantly jumped into my head:

1. Don't do a Christian alternative of a medium.

Doing a different, holy version of Twitter is like creating a Christian version of the telephone. Twitter and facebook are mediums. They're technologies used for communication. If the communication is about Christianity, then they're being used as a Christian medium. If the communication is about goat herding in Pineapple, Alabama, then they're being used as a goat herding medium. Twitter is not inherently evil or inherently Christian. Mediums are often like mannequins, the clothes you put on them define them. (It feels almost impossible not to make a Mannequin movie joke right here.)

2. Don't do a Christian alternative to an empty box.

Twitter is a pull medium not a push medium. If I want you to read my tweets and you don't want to, I can't do anything about that if you refuse to follow me. The only way to see my content is to follow me or pull what I write toward you. So I could never say, "I'm so sick of all the filth in my twitter stream," because if there's filth, it means I decided to follow those people. You are your own Twitter Editor. If you've got a problem on Twitter, write an angry letter to the Editor, who is you. (That sentence read like it was written by artist MC Escher)

3. The public announcement of an unfollow is the biggest jerk move on Twitter.

That doesn't even have anything to do with this article, but I wanted to make sure we're all clear about that. It's like putting a break up notice in the engagement/wedding section of the newspaper to let everyone know you dumped someone. Don't be that guy.

4. Don't do a Christian alternative that can't be better than the original.

Someone sent me a link once to a Christian version of Google. I like that concept. As a dad with young daughters, the Internet can be a pretty scary place. I've also personally used and loved services like Safe Eyes that filter the Internet. I dig that idea, but there's no way a Christian Google can work better and smarter than Google. Be careful about creating a Christian version that offers a lot less functionality than the original. I feel good about putting a filter on my computer, tweaking my settings on Google and knowing that a team of 300 of the best engineers and programmers are hammering away at making Google great each day. I don't mean this in regards to the Christian Google, but in general, I'm not sure that when we create cheap, broken knockoffs of originals, we shine a lot of glory onto the creator.

I do have a hope for any Christian that decides to do an alternative version of something. I hope it grows into something wild and big and fun. I created Stuff Christians Like because I wanted to talk specifically about our penchant for putting God flavor on popular secular ideas and then making them our own. It's the first post on this site, a blog that clearly rips off the original Stuff White People Like blog. I didn't think there would be a book down the road. I didn't think we'd build two kindergartens in Vietnam or raise over $30,000 for mosquito nets in Uganda. This Christian Alternative grew into something different than I anticipated. And that's my hope for the Christian Twitter and other projects that might be in the works right now.

What do you think?

Do we need Christian alternatives to things?

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Last night on Twitter, I felt like the Stuff Christians Like bat signal lit up.

Out of nowhere, about 10 different people linked me to a new site and essentially said, ìProdigaljohn has to talk about this.î When I went to the site, I realized that other bloggers had already talked about it. Months ago.

So on second thought, it wasnít like the bat signal was lit. It was more like the ìNightwingî signal was lit, the superhero Robin became after he broke up with Batman. (Why didnít I date much in high school? Girls like comic book knowledge right? Ladies?)

The site my friends linked me to was billed as offering a Christian version of Twitter. Being somewhat of an expert on Christians taking popular secular ideas and putting a God spin on them, four thoughts instantly jumped into my head:

1. Donít do a Christian alternative of a medium.

Doing a different, holy version of Twitter is like creating a Christian version of the telephone. Twitter and facebook are mediums. Theyíre technologies used for communication. If the communication is about Christianity, then theyíre being used as a Christian medium. If the communication is about goat herding in Pineapple, Alabama, then theyíre being used as a goat herding medium. Twitter is not inherently evil or inherently Christian. Mediums are often like mannequins, the clothes you put on them define them. (It feels almost impossible not to make a ìMannequinî movie joke right here.)

2. Donít do a Christian alternative to an empty box.

Twitter is a pull medium not a push medium. If I want you to read my tweets and you donít want to, I canít do anything about that if you refuse to follow me. The only way to see my content is to follow me or pull what I write toward you. So I could never say, ìIím so sick of all the filth in my twitter stream,î because if thereís filth, it means I decided to follow those people. You are your own Twitter Editor. If youíve got a problem on Twitter, write an angry letter to the Editor, who is you. (That sentence read like it was written by artist MC Escher)

3. The public announcement of an unfollow is the biggest jerk move on Twitter.

That doesnít even have anything to do with this article, but I wanted to make sure weíre all clear about that. Itís like putting a break up notice in the engagement/wedding section of the newspaper to let everyone know you dumped someone. Donít be that guy.

4. Donít do a Christian alternative that canít be better than the original.

Someone sent me a link once to a Christian version of Google. I like that concept. As a dad with young daughters, the Internet can be a pretty scary place. Iíve also personally used and loved services like Safe Eyes that filter the Internet. I dig that idea, but thereís no way a Christian Google can work better and smarter than Google. Be careful about creating a Christian version that offers a lot less functionality than the original. I feel good about putting a filter on my computer, tweaking my settings on Google and knowing that a team of 300 of the best engineers and programmers are hammering away at making Google great each day. I donít mean this in regards to the Christian Google, but in general, Iím not sure that when we create cheap, broken knockoffs of originals, we shine a lot of glory onto the creator.

I do have a hope for any Christian that decides to do an alternative version of something. I hope it grows into something wild and big and fun. I created Stuff Christians Like because I wanted to talk specifically about our penchant for putting God flavor on popular secular ideas and then making them our own. Itís the first post on this site, a blog that clearly rips off the original Stuff White People Like blog. I didnít think there would be a book down the road. I didnít think weíd build two kindergartens in Vietnam or raise over $30,000 for mosquito nets in Uganda. This ìChristian Alternativeî grew into something different than I anticipated. And thatís my hope for the Christian Twitter and other projects that might be in the works right now.

What do you think?

Do we need Christian alternatives to things?

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The other night while we were driving around, my 7 year old L.E. piped up in the back seat and said, ìOh look, thereís one of those Happy Him doughnut places.î

Since weíve only lived in Nashville for a few months, I thought it might be possible that there was in fact a doughnut place called ìHappy Him.î Itís a fairly good description of the general doughnut audience (Him) and how you want to leave them after theyíve sampled your wares (Happy).

My daughter continued, ìWe have Happy Him at school sometimes.î Inside I thought, this wasnít an isolated incident. Happy Him was at her school. Good to know. Made sense.

But then we drove by a Krispy Kreme and I realized what was happening. The swirly cursive (known in graphic circles as ìdoughnut font,î comic sansí frivolous cousin) had confused L.E. when she read it. There was no Happy Him.

I love conversations like that and hearing about things sheís experiencing at school. Those stories are fun, but sometimes there are stories about school that you donít want to hear.

The other day, L.E. was on the playground at recess and couldnít find her best friend. It takes first grade little girls about 7 minutes to become best friends and L.E. already had an elaborate song/handshake worked out with her new friend. She found her in the corner of the playground with other two little girls.

In that innocent, Iím just a kid way that only 7 year olds can pull off, she said, ìCan I play with you?î to the three little girls. One girl turned to her, looked her over and said, ìNo, not today.î

As a dad, that kind of thing kills you.

You hate to think of the L.E. in your family walking back to a worn out jump rope and maybe pretending she wasnít crying out on the playground.

And this is first grade. Chances are we are not done with this type of moment.

In sixth grade, someone wonít sit with you at lunch.

In middle school, no one might come to your birthday party.

In high school, your invitation to the dance never came or you didnít measure up for that sports team.

In college, I got rejected from every single fraternity at Samford University. I remember watching the bottom of my door hoping an invitation would magically slide under.

You get older and the person you love doesnít love you back. The job you wanted doesnít want you back. The parent who by very nature of the title is supposed to care about you, doesnít care back.

There are good moments, thousands of good moments, but we tend to obsess and amplify the handful of bad ones we experience. Though the last few paragraphs sounded a little like lyrics from a Counting Crows song, those are the dents in our universe that often come to incorrectly define us. The moments where no one wanted to play with us on the playground.

And then we wonder why itís so hard to believe Jesus loves us.

We spend years, maybe even decades, learning how the world works. There is give and take. Things have to balance out. You earn your keep. You made your bed, now sleep in it. There is cause and effect. A + B = C.

And then there is Jesus, so opposite of everything weíve been led to believe about this planet. He doesnít turn away from the people no one plays with, he actually seeks them out. He doesnít just accept them, he searches for them. He tells stories where the scoundrel gets a party. He shares tales where the single sheep is sought after. He turns away angry mobs and offers hope to adulterers.

This baffled me for so long. I knew Jesus didnít come to get the perfect people. Even in my confusion, I understood that perfection wasnít possible. But I thought he was here to get the good people. On the bus to heaven, the good people got to ride on the inside while us sinners had to cling to the outside. And not in a cool way on the roof like in Teen Wolf 1, which is arguably the better of the two Teen Wolf films. I was clinging to the outside of the bus. (It might say something about my understanding of heaven that it involves a ride on a bus. Have you ever been on a public bus and thought, ìThis seems a lot like heaven. So we use the bathroom 4 feet from where Iím sitting? This is heaven!î)

But in Matthew 9, we see Jesus flip everything upside down. The Pharisees see him hanging out with some of the people no one would play with and they ask the disciples, ìWhy does your teacher eat with tax collectors and ësinnersí?î

On hearing this, Jesus said, ìIt is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.î He continues by adding, ìfor I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.î

Heís here for us. Heís not looking for the people who have it all together. Heís not searching out the perfect. The mom who never makes a mistake, the coworker who can do no wrong, the college student who is flawless. Heís here for the sick and the broken and the sinners.

Why? Because heís love. Heís grace. Heís perfect. And though sometimes it feels impossible, though sometimes it seems too good to be true, though the mechanics of this world feel so counter, the truth is, Jesus always plays with the kids no one else plays with on the playground.

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The other night while we were driving around, my 7 year old L.E. piped up in the back seat and said, "Oh look, there's one of those Happy Him doughnut places."

Since we've only lived in Nashville for a few months, I thought it might be possible that there was in fact a doughnut place called "Happy Him." It's a fairly good description of the general doughnut audience (Him) and how you want to leave them after they've sampled your wares (Happy).

My daughter continued, "We have Happy Him at school sometimes." Inside I thought, this wasn't an isolated incident. Happy Him was at Kenrose Elementary. Good to know. Made sense.

But then we drove by a Krispy Kreme and I realized what was happening. The swirly cursive (known in graphic circles as "doughnut font," comic sans' frivolous cousin) had confused L.E. when she read it. There was no Happy Him.

I love conversations like that and hearing about things she's experiencing at school. Those stories are fun, but sometimes there are stories about school that you don't want to hear.

The other day, L.E. was on the playground at recess and couldn't find her best friend. It takes first grade little girls about 7 minutes to become best friends and L.E. already had an elaborate song/handshake worked out with her new friend. She found her in the corner of the playground with other two little girls.

In that innocent, I'm just a kid way that only 7 year olds can pull off, she said, "Can I play with you?" to the three little girls. One girl turned to her, looked her over and said, "No, not today."

As a dad, that kind of thing kills you.

You hate to think of the L.E. in your family walking back to a worn out jump rope and maybe pretending she wasn't crying out on the playground.

And this is first grade. Chances are we are not done with this type of moment.

In sixth grade, someone won't sit with you at lunch.

In middle school, no one might come to your birthday party.

In high school, your invitation to the dance never came or you didn't measure up for that sports team.

In college, I got rejected from every single fraternity at Samford University. I remember watching the bottom of my door hoping an invitation would magically slide under.

You get older and the person you love doesn't love you back. The job you wanted doesn't want you back. The parent who by very nature of the title is supposed to care about you, doesn't care back.

There are good moments, thousands of good moments, but we tend to obsess and amplify the handful of bad ones we experience. Though the last few paragraphs sounded a little like lyrics from a Counting Crows song, those are the dents in our universe that often come to incorrectly define us. The moments where no one wanted to play with us on the playground.

And then we wonder why it's so hard to believe Jesus loves us.

We spend years, maybe even decades, learning how the world works. There is give and take. Things have to balance out. You earn your keep. You made your bed, now sleep in it. There is cause and effect. A + B = C.

And then there is Jesus, so opposite of everything we've been led to believe about this planet. He doesn't turn away from the people no one plays with, he actually seeks them out. He doesn't just accept them, he searches for them. He tells stories where the scoundrel gets a party. He shares tales where the single sheep is sought after. He turns away angry mobs and offers hope to adulterers.

This baffled me for so long. I knew Jesus didn't come to get the perfect people. Even in my confusion, I understood that perfection wasn't possible. But I thought he was here to get the good people. On the bus to heaven, the good people got to ride on the inside while us sinners had to cling to the outside. And not in a cool way on the roof like in Teen Wolf 1, which is arguably the better of the two Teen Wolf films. I was clinging to the outside of the bus. (It might say something about my understanding of heaven that it involves a ride on a bus. Have you ever been on a public bus and thought, "This seems a lot like heaven. So we use the bathroom 4 feet from where I'm sitting? This is heaven!")

But in Matthew 9, we see Jesus flip everything upside down. The Pharisees see him hanging out with some of the people no one would play with and they ask the disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and 'sinners'?"

On hearing this, Jesus said, "It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick." He continues by adding, "for I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."

He's here for us. He's not looking for the people who have it all together. He's not searching out the perfect. The mom who never makes a mistake, the coworker who can do no wrong, the college student who is flawless. He's here for the sick and the broken and the sinners.

Why? Because he's love. He's grace. He's perfect. And though sometimes it feels impossible, though sometimes it seems too good to be true, though the mechanics of this world feel so counter, the truth is, Jesus always plays with the kids no one else plays with on the playground.

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Traditionally, you only release one book per year. There are exceptions, but there are generally 12 months between book releases. Stuff Christians Like came out in April, so it's only been out for seven months. We thought that maybe we'd release a second book in the spring or fall of 2011.

But then I joined Dave Ramsey's team and one day a coworker named Daniel Bell suggested we do an additional book. He thought it might be cool to create a funny, visually surprising book that covered all of the silly things that happen to people when it comes to money. We'd still focus on releasing a book in the spring that had elements of Serious Wednesday in it, but could we do a bonus book in between?

Inside, I thought, "That's crazy. Concept, write, illustrate and finish a book in 10 weeks? Who does that?"

And then I remembered, Dave Ramsey does. This entire company is built on the idea of saying, "We do," when faced with impossible ideas and the question, "Who does that?"

So we did.

We took a look at money and debt and all the funny things that happen in between. Getting our money under control really changed my marriage and my family. And just last week a mom told me, "I can't wait for this book. My daughter doesn't want to talk about this stuff but maybe a book that is funny will help open the door."

The title of the book is "Gazelles, Baby Steps and 37 Other Things Dave Ramsey Taught Me About Debt." Ideas include:

1. You can't walk out of Target with only one item.

2. Dave Ramsey doesn't want you to wear a barrel with suspenders.

3. How to baby-proof your house against a 27-year-old.

4. Bridesmaid dresses, the cruelest thing ladies do to each other.

5. The pet store is a "free zoo."

Dave Ramsey wrote the forward and we illustrated it with some of the funniest illustrations I've ever seen.

It will be officially out at the end of November and we'll start taking pre-orders in the next few days. In the meantime, below is the cover.

I'm really excited about the opportunity to add a new book to the mix and also looking forward to the third book that will release this spring. Thanks for continuing to make stuff like this possible by reading the site and buying Stuff Christians Like!

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A few weeks ago when I was in Mexico, someone challenged me to eat an entire thing of queso in one bite.

One bite? How is that even possible? It's all gooey and barely "spoonable." You don't really "bite it."

Ahh, but this one had congealed. It had hardened into a hockey puck of cheese. It was one thick disc of cheese in a bowl. And at the other end of the table, I heard one friend tell the other that he'd never eat that just to win $40.

In that split second, I realized I had been training for this moment my entire life. I've long confessed my love of queso or cheese dip. All those dinners at Mexican restaurants, all those appetizers in college were about to finally come to fruition. I felt like I was a minor league baseball player getting the call to the majors.

The majors of cheese.

So I quickly jumped up and said, "$40? I've got this." And then in one fluid, catlike move I grabbed the spoon and put the whole thing into my mouth.

The best way to describe it is to compare it to big league chew bubble gum, that shredded bubble gum that is supposed to mimic chewing tobacco in shape and size. For five minutes it was like I was chewing cheese flavored big league chew. It was not easy and I was not allowed any water during the feat. A fact, that I should have been warned about before attempting to eat the cheese. There should have been a "Danger! Danger!" sign on that bowl of cheese. A placard indicating the hazards of eating that much cheese. There should have been some sort of written warning.

Or at the bare minimum, a Bible verse.

That's something that is definitely "Stuff Christians Like." We are no stranger to attaching the word of God to a variety of objects. From car bumpers to baseballs, I've seen Bible verses on every surface possible. And I think that can be a great thing. I think it can be a good conversation starter.

But I do have one bit of warning. There are some verses that shouldn't be applied to some things. There are some verses that don't fit every application. There are some verses that aren't really meant for say, Halloween candy.

A mom named Jill reminded of that recently. Her two year old got a packet of smarties, which I kind of think of as the George Washington of candy. (Consistent, old fashioned, humble, but hardworking as far as candy goes.)

There were two Bible verses on his smarties. And quite frankly, I'm hoping one of them was just a misprint. Because unless this two year old had a five o'clock shadow, was pounding red bulls at the door and trick or treating with scandalous ladies, I'm not sure this verse should be on candy. Here is the picture Jill took. (Click on it to see it larger):

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Wow. That is insane. The kid was two. Don't get me wrong, I think that's a critical message, unless you're still in diapers.

And I have 2 questions about it:

1. What's the weirdest verse you've seen on something or the weirdest item you've seen with a Bible verse on it?

2. Remembering to keep it so fresh and so clean, how would you caption this photo?

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Last week, I spoke in San Diego about the impact of Christ in the Denzel Washington movie, "Man on Fire." And for the most part it was a pretty good experience.

Why just, "for the most part?"

Well, about five minutes into my talk, two people got up and left. Not together, they left individually at different times. Then midway through, two people came in, listened for a minute and then walked back out. Normally, four people leaving wouldn't be a big deal. But there were only 25 people in the room. So those four people represented 16% of the audience. As a speaker, you are highly aware of someone on the second row of a 25-person crowd deciding, "This is whack, I'm going to bounce."

In my head, I instantly thought:

1. Did I swear? I don't feel like I did, but did I start off this talk with profanity?

2. I was talking about prayer. Did they hate me joking about telling people you'll pray for them and then forgetting to?

3. Couldn't they have at least pretended to receive a phone call and whispered, "An orphanage caught on fire and you need me to help put it out? I hate to leave this awesome speech by Jon Acuff, but OK!"

I pushed through my insecurities and ended up actually talking about it at the end of the speech. Everyone who was still there laughed and admitted, that was wicked awkward.

But as uncomfortable as that was, it's nothing compared to what happened to my friends from Texas. They were looking for a new church and visited one on a Sunday morning. They were a little late and the church was so full they asked my friends to sit in the crying room with the screaming babies. (If you're a member, this was a great time to scoot to the middle and make room, versus make a visitor sit in the wailing room, but I digress.)

Ten minutes into the service, they knew this was not going to be the right fit for them and sitting in the yelling closet wasn't awesome, so they left. As they entered the sanctuary to walk out the back, their four year old yelled loud enough for everyone to hear, "Dad, we're leaving! Why are we leaving? Why dad, why are we leaving? It's not over yet!"

Then he started telling them that he wanted to take the elevator instead of the stairs, something they had promised on the way in. (Elevators are like suburban roller coasters for 4 year olds.) As their son trumpeted their exit, my friend grabbed him like a cord of fire wood under one arm and ran down the stairs like a bank robber.

Awesome. That makes me feel a little better about what happened to me.

But it does make me curious about two things:

1. Have you ever left church before it was over? If so, why?

2. What's the craziest, most embarrassing thing your kid has done in church?

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