Before I met my wife, I stored my money in empty Midori bottles instead of a savings account. (Feel free to read that sentence again because it’s a doozy.) After graduating from college, while at my second “real job,” I decided that the best long term financial plan for me was probably to cash my check in dimes, unroll the dimes and then place them inside sticky, empty bottles of Midori liquor.

I was like some sort of suburban pirate, living with my parents, storing my hard earned booty in bottles. I was what the ladies call “a real catch.”

A decade later, I’ve grown up a little. I now have a savings account and direct deposit and a dozen other little things that are slightly more sophisticated than my bottle financial plan. And I don’t think about money much now. It’s not that we’re rolling in cake, we just know where it’s going, we’ve done the Dave Ramsey thing, and have discovered how to spend less than we make. Revolutionary idea, right? Our money automatically goes where it’s supposed to go without me getting that involved. Including our tithe check. That one marches off to a few different places each month and I can cross the word “generous” off my Christian to do list.

One of the places we give to is an orphanage my Uncle helped start in Kenya. They have over 300 students, many of which were orphaned by the AIDS epidemic or who themselves suffer with the disease. It’s an amazing place and I am genuinely happy that we are able to sponsor six different kids right now. But I realized during a conversation in my small group the other night that I’m giving all those kids something that doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not sacrificing to give them anything. I’m not really even changing my life all that much to create room for them in my heart. I’m giving them a check my wife writes, with an asset I don’t think about that often, money.

The asset I care most about, the one that is my most precious resource right now, the one I covet most desperately? That one I am hoarding for myself. That one I don’t even give them a scrap of. That one is just for me.

That one is time.

I could probably fill a suitcase with the amount of letters the six kids in Kenya have written me and my family. That’s like a small basketball team and they are able to generate quite a lot of mail. But do you know how many times I’ve written them? Zero. Sure, I give them money, and occasionally if I bring the mail in that day and see a letter from them, I will think to myself, “Oh yeah Africa. We’re so kind to give them money.” And then I’ll go right back to living my life without giving them a second of thought for another month.

The kids know too. They are well aware that I am not writing them letters. One of them wrote us a few months ago and said something like, “I pray that God will give you the strength to write me a letter.” Ouch.

The worst part is that I can’t claim I don’t like to write. I love to write. I’ve written the equivalent of a 1,000 page book on my blogs in the last year. But I haven’t written those kids, because I’m not generous with my time. I get the small hit of feeling good about myself because I’ve given money, but meanwhile have really kept the resource I care about most to myself.

And on top of that, I can’t even act like the Bible doesn’t address stuff like this head on. I mean it would be nice if I could pretend this issue was fuzzy and gray, but it’s not.

In 2 Samuel 24, David wants to build an altar to God on the threshing floor of a guy named Araunah the Jebusite. Araunah, possessing perhaps the only obscure Biblical name none of my friends have used for their kids, offers to give David the threshing floor for free. David’s response is instant and unfortunate:

“No, I insist on paying you for it. I will not sacrifice to the Lord my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing.”

It’s unfortunate because it convicts me about the personal costs associated with my offering. When I give a tiny portion of the money that God has given my family to help those kids in Africa, I am not giving something that costs me much. For me to give them time, for me to not go jogging one night because the African kids are going to get that hour instead of me, or for me to use one of “my” Friday nights to write six letters and pray about each of them, that costs me something.

Which is why that’s what we did last week. I wrote them letters. It cost me an hour and I felt that cost, but I can’t keep offering things that cost me nothing.

And that’s the question today:

Are you offering things that don’t cost you anything?

I think that the 19-week American Idol audition process is about to conclude. I think that in large part because they keep showing commercials with Simon Cowell melodramatically telling a roomful of sweaty singers things like “This week, I believe we’ll find a singer in the final round of auditions that will cure puppy loneliness and eradicate all cloudy days with the sound of their voice.” I could be wrong though.

If I’m not, and we are about to get to the final group of people that will be singing for their lives for the next 14 weeks, we are on the precipice of a very exciting event in Christian pop culture –Rooting for the secret Christian contestant.

Isn’t that the best? It’s kind of like cheering for the Christian guy in the Super Bowl only you get to do it for a few months and you’re never quite sure if they’re a Christian. There’s an element of mystery, an air of “are they a Christian or just religious? Are they a follower of Jesus or just working the crowd to try to get the coveted ‘follower of Jesus’ vote?”

Usually, you have to wait until the contestant releases a gospel album and does a duet with TobyMac after the show is all over before you can really confirm that your faithtastical spidey sense was buzzing for a reason. Not this year though. This year I thought we could all get a head start on rooting for the secret Christian contestant on American Idol. That’s why I created this handy list:

How to spot a secret American Idol Christian contestant.

1. Their mom tells host Ryan Seacrest that they’ve been singing, and this next part is critical, in the “church choir” since they were five. Unless they say church choir they might have just worked the pageant circuit.

2. They refuse to “skank it up” when the competition gets heated and the judges keep telling them to show their sexy side. (If one of my daughters got that advice I would probably come through the television set and stab somebody with a pew pencil.)

3. They are not from Utah. I love Mormons. In fact one of my favorite posts ever on this site is “Stuff Christians Like, Being Slightly Less Nice than Mormons,” but you’ve got to factor in location when it comes to determining whether someone is a secret Christian.

4. You read on a fan site that a friend of a friend of a friend goes to church with them and “he’s a really nice guy and totally loves the Lord and I once sat next to him in a Sunday School class. Go JASON!!!!”

5. Instead of telling people she is “thankful” to be there, she says she is “blessed” to be here. Instead of saying “she works hard” she says, she is “committed to doing things with excellence.”

6. They are from Georgia or Texas. I live in Georgia and I’ve been to Texas. I’m clearly a huge fan of Christian stereotypes, but this one is just a fact. More than 99.9% of the general population in Texas and Georgia is Christian.

7. They can do a flawless choir side step, that “I know dancing is sinful, but if you move you’re feet slowly back and forth God is OK with that” move.

If I wanted to be a secret Christian blogger I shouldn’t have put 7 items on this list. Everyone knows that the number 7 is a lot holier than 8 or 9.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t add to the list.

Have you ever rooted for a secret Christian on American Idol?

What signs do you look for?

Tomorrow, Wednesday, February 11, we will be discussing chapters 6 – 8 of the book Crazy Love by Francis Chan over on ProdigalJon.com.

Read up. Speak up. See you then.

The other day while waiting to spring my daughter L.E. from Sunday School someone cut in line. I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He was doing that thing my three year old does when we play hide and seek. She thinks that if she’s got her eyes closed you can’t see her either. So this guy was refusing to make eye contact with me and was instead just sliding over with an, “I don’t see you. If I pretend there’s not a well established line in the hallway and don’t look at anyone you won’t be able to see what I’m doing.”

But I did, I did. So I started to think to myself, “Which does God hate more? People that cut in line when you’re picking up your kid from Sunday school or people that think hateful thoughts about line cutters 19 seconds after they’ve listened to a sermon about loving their neighbor? On the one hand I am assuming this guy has gone to a fast food restaurant, bank, movie theater, sporting event or elementary school and is well aware of how a line works. On the other hand, I’m a jerk. Dang it. Be cool Jon. Be cool. The longer you wait in line the more time L.E. has to hoard goldfish for the ride home. It’s going to be OK.”

And it was. The whole thing was perfectly fine. No big deal. I moved passed my grumpy moment with relative ease, but there’s one Sunday School situation I have a harder time forgiving – the poorly executed drop off.

If you’ve got a kid, then you know exactly what I am talking about. If you don’t have kids, you should print this out and put it somewhere safe. If you ever volunteer for Sunday School, you should hang this on your door in the hall. It’s really win, win, win.

It’s fun to laugh at this problem, but when you dig deep, when you really explore this issue with the degree of scientific analysis I have, you realize just how dire it is. Because when a parent bombs the Sunday School drop off, their kid cries and starts a chain reaction of tears in other kids. As soon as one class is crying other classes in the hall get on board and start screaming, too. Now a few dozen parents are late to church because they’re calming their kids down. The worship leader notices that church feels a little empty and can’t get a good clap going and feels downhearted. The pastor, trying to bring his A game, gets constantly interrupted as parents walk in late. He can’t focus and ends up delivering a C level sermon that concludes with “So yeah, God loves. You should check into that.” The offering suffers so the church can’t pay their bills that month, which scares all the staff into looking for other jobs and the church has to shut down.

That’s what’s at stake when you blow a Sunday School drop off. Is that what you want, to close the church because you poorly executed what should be a simple church move? Not me, which is why I came up with three rules we all need to remember when dropping our kids off for Sunday School:

1. Don’t break the plane.
Whenever I see a dad about to break the seal and enter a classroom I want to scream like I would at someone about to go into a dark room in a horror movie, “Don’t go in there!” That’s the worst mistake you can make. Pretend there’s an invisible force field that only accepts children and remain in the hall. You’ll want to go in and help your kid take his coat off or get comfortable for the first few minutes or show him where the toys are. Resist those temptations. If you stay out of the room, then your kid will see that space as, “A room I play in.” If you go into the room, your kid will see that space as “A room I used to play in with my dad.” Waaaaaaa.

2. Don’t linger.
The Cranberries once asked in a song, “Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?” The answer is no, no you don’t. Especially once you’ve already made the drop off. Get out of there as fast as you can. You’ll be tempted to watch your kid play or mingle with other kids but you can do that when you’re waiting in line to pick them back up. Right now, focus on your exit strategy. Don’t sprint, because then you’re the guy that runs in the halls at church, but speed walk away as fast as you can.

3. Don’t look back.
Resist the urge to turn back as you walk away and give your daughter one more wistful look. You’ll want to look over your shoulder and wave goodbye, or give them a “you can do it buddy, mommy will be back soon” smile, but don’t. That’s only going to make your kid sad all over again. I find it’s best to either walk in a direction that can’t be seen from the classroom or fade into a crowd like the good guy that shot the bad guy at the ferry scene in the movie Pelican Brief starring Hollywood’s Julia Roberts. No one ever saw that guy and my kids don’t see me either. I’m like a church chameleon.

I hope these rules will serve you well although I violated them tremendously yesterday. My wife and I agreed to help out in our three year old’s class. We had a great time, but I promise you next week she is going to say, “Are you staying in my class today daddy?” And then I’ll have to show her this essay only she can’t read yet, so I’ll probably just play her that Cranberries song and hope she understands.

What if we could do what we do online, offline?

What if instead of usernames, we just had names?

What if instead of posting comments, we just talked?

What if we dropped all the egos and the web traffic and the technorati rankings and the silly things that tend to tangle us up online?

What would that look like?

Could we worship loud?

Could we laugh at ourselves?

Could we give each other the gifts we didn’t even know we needed?

I think the answer is yes, which is why I’m excited about the Off the Blogs event in Atlanta on February 26th.

Not just because I love everything Catalyst puts on and the One Day event is going to be sick. Not just because Aaron Keyes is one of my favorite worship leaders or that Pete Wilson is fantastic and Carlos Whittaker is great and Anne Jackson is awesome. All of that is abundantly true. But the real reason I’m excited about the Off the Blogs event is that God is doing some really weird, really beautiful, really funny things right now and the chance to celebrate that in a live setting is too fun to pass up.

Plus, I’m going to hand out a ton of Skittles and I’ve already broken the attendance record of my last event, which was two, because my parents are coming and so is my wife.

I’ll talk about it more in the weeks to come, but here are the details:
Thursday, February 26, 7:00 at Christian Church Buckhead.

Register here.

So here’s the score. I have about 70,500 words lined up for the Stuff Christians Like book right now. Zondervan would like me to cut that down to 50,000 – 60,000. So my question today is, which of these hand raising styles is not funny and true? If you had to take 3-5 of them behind the comedy shed and give them a merciful death that involved the delete button, which ones would you kill?

Granted, “funny” is subjective and maybe all ten deserve the heave ho. I’m open to that too. Thanks for your feedback.

Hand Raising Worship – The 10 Styles.

My wife once leaned over to me at church and said, “People sure do have different styles when it comes to singing with their hands raised.” As soon as she said that I knew I had to cover the topic at least once in this book. I had to, like Jane Goodall in the jungle, step inside the world of hand raising and report what I found. I did and here, after deep scientific study in the field of sarcasmology, are the 10 styles of hand raising I encountered, starting with the least extreme to the most extreme:

1. The Ninja
You are tricky sir, truly, you are tricky. This guy is testing the waters. He sees ladies near him that throw their arms in the air at the first hint of a Chris Tomlin song but he’s not so sure. I mean, what if his friends see him? He used to make fun of people that did that. So instead of going all out, he does a fancy little move. He puts his hands by his pants pockets and just flips them over with his palms facing the heavens. From behind, you can’t see that he is doing anything out of the ordinary and from the front it just looks like he is cupping his hands slightly as if to show you what was in his pockets.

2. The Half & Half
This person often wants to sing with both hands raised, but they go to a conservative church and don’t want to be known as “that guy.” So instead of singing with both hands up, they hold one in the air and put one in their pocket or on the chair in front of them. It’s like half their body is saying, “YAY JESUS!!!!” and the other half is saying, “Nothing to see here folks, move it along please, move it along.”

3. The Single Hand Salute
This is the cousin of the half & half but is different in its level of intensity. Instead of just kind of floating in the air, the hand you have up goes out straight at an angle, as if you are saluting some visiting military dignitary. It’s possible this move was first instilled in people when they were young with the song, “God’s Army.”

4. The Elevator
This one technically marks our transition into multi-hand motions. In this move, you act like there is a rule against having both hands raised at the same exact time. So you start rotating your arms. As soon as one arm comes down, the other arm goes up. It’s kind of an awkward dance move, but works pretty well when set to “Blessed be the Name.”

5. The Pound Cake
This is what we in the industry, of hand raising in case you were wondering, refer to as an “underhand move.” Instead of sticking your arms out, you hold them with your palms facing the sky as if you are ready to receive something from someone in front of you. In the pound cake, your elbows should be at stomach level, with your hands tilted at a 47 degree angle as if someone visiting your house warming party is about to hand you a delicious pound cake. It’s not a heavy cake, so you don’t have to brace yourself, but can instead just relax and think, “Hey cool, a pound cake. Let me take that for you.”

6. The Tickler
It’s getting serious now. The tickler is the person that sticks their arms out horizontally as if they were trying to make a big T with their body. This is a fine move except that because we’re all sitting so close, they inevitably bump into you with their hands. So while you try to sing along with the chorus, you can’t help but giggle as they, lost in a moment of blissful worship, accidentally tickle you.

7. The Double High Five
I am very stingy with my high fives. I think the last time I gave one was in the delivery room of my second daughter. The next time I give one will be if the book sells more than 19 copies. Other than those two situations, I find the high five to be the physical version of using a lot of exclamation marks!!! That’s why I rarely do this move. The double high five looks exactly like it sounds. You act like you’ve just scored a goal in soccer/football and are about to double high five the person in front of you. (Some people call this move the “Secret passageway” because it kind of looks like you are feeling along a wall for a hidden button that will open a secret door. But I’m a purist and don’t use that term.)

8. The Huge Watermelon
This is like the pound cake on steroids. In this move, your arms are held higher and with a considerable about of dedication and determination. It’s still an underhand move, but now, instead of a light and fluffy cake, someone on a truck is handing down a huge watermelon to you. Better get ready, that thing looks heavy.

9. The Helicopter Rail
At this point, both arms are raised high in the air. This is professional hand raiser territory we’re in. Please don’t try to do this at home. With this one, you reach your arms out, way over your head but out in front of your body. Imagine if you were stuck on a piece of driftwood and a barracuda with teeth made of scorpions was about to get you and you had to desperately reach out for the rail of a helicopter that was attempting to rescue you. Stretch, stretch, you gotta want it.

10. The YMCA
This is my favorite and probably most common hand raising technique. It’s not complicated. Much like the famous song, you simply raise your hands above your body and form a big Y. That’s all, but it leaves little doubt to the folks around you what is going on. You’re worshipping. It’s big, it’s beautiful, it’s messy and it’s great.

Although I tend to be a pound cake kind of guy, I like when people raise their hands. My friend said that when her mom did it, it always looked like she was clearing a runway for God to land. I think that’s pretty cool and hope to one day work my way up to at least mastering the huge watermelon.

(Katdish is a legendary commenter at Stuff Christians Like. She’s been around from the beginning and is constantly and consistently making people laugh and think with what she adds to the conversation we’re all having. Plus, she’s doing something I’ve never ever done, she’s planting a church. If I tried to write this post it would sound fake and phony and other words meaning lame. Fortunately Katdish wrote it and it’s great. Check it out.)

When Jon sent me an e-mail asking if I would be interested in guest blogging for Stuff Christians Like, my response was something like, “Yeah. That might be cool.” My actual reaction was more akin to what my 7-year old’s would be after learning that she had just received a year’s supply of Floam. I happen to know Jon is a humble, down to earth guy, but with the incredible success of SCL and now the upcoming book, he’s kind of a big deal. So I’ll try not disappoint too many readers with today’s post.

So, why should you be part of a church plant? My simple answer is that you have exhausted every other option and prayed about it A LOT. If you’re still up for it, then brace yourself. If you don’t come by humility naturally (like I do), God will humble you like the 360 degree mirror on “What Not to Wear” (with Clinton and Stacey in the background as your accountability partners).

So, what are some dos and don’ts I can share with you based upon my vast year and a half experience with church planting? I’ve got roughly 197, but I’ll try to keep it brief:

Do choose a pastor that has an absolutely sound, biblically based theology and a Christ-like attitude. If, say your pastor (we’ll call him Steve) would like to name the church “TheHolyandDivineSpiritualHouseofStevePointe,” he may lack the necessary humility to pull off leading a successful church plant. (Especially if his last name happens to be Pointe.)

Don’t get bogged down with things that are more about tradition and personal preference such as using a worship eagle as opposed to an interpretive pop and lock dance set to Toby Mac’s “Feelin’ So Fly”. Keep the main thing the main thing, but don’t sweat the small stuff.

Do have a plan and a timeline for at least the first two years of your church. If you are receiving support from outside backers and other churches, it really bugs them when you say stuff like, “Que sera sera, Whatever will be will be”, and then make a sweeping, full body twirl whist holding a flowing scarf in your hand. (Yeah, they really hate it when you do that.)

Do splurge for a professional looking sign if you meet in someone’s home every week. Something like “We are not a Cult” would be a good option.

Don’t recruit new members from other churches. I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that our mission is to make new disciples, not to play musical chairs. Plus, as my pastor would say, that fruit might be easy to reach, but it has already been picked, and frankly some of it is rotten. (The rotten part is my statement not his, but he wishes it was.)

Do attend the Exponential Conference in Orlando this April. (This year’s theme: A Thousand Points of Blond Highlights!) Not only is it a great place to network and meet some peeps who are in the same boat as you, but you will also hear Francis Chan, Erwin McManus, Alan Hirsch, and (gasp) Tim Keller! I am not exaggerating when I say that the author of every recently published book I’ve read in the past 2 years will be there. Well, I don’t think Stephen King will be there, but how awesome would that workshop be? Incidentally, if Brent Foulke or anyone else from the conference happens to be reading this, I’m not above accepting free passes to the conference in exchange for say, unprecedented exposure to your conference via a link on Stuff Christians Like.

Don’t constantly check your email and/or your blog: IMRELEVANTFAUXSHO.COM if you’re sitting next to me at the conference like you did last year. And no, I don’t want to see all the cool new apps on your i-touch. Go bother your lead pastor and leave me alone. I’m trying to hear Dr. Keller!

Do lots of research. Read books and blogs by successful church planters. They love to wax poetic about all mistakes they’ve made in the past, “but Love will build a bridge”. It might save you some grief.

Don’t make wickedly funny, sarcastic remarks on pastors’ blogs. They rarely respond, and just between you and me, I’m pretty sure they find you incredibly annoying…(Not that I have any personal experience with this, I’m just saying.)

Don’t plant a church if you don’t have a sense of humor. And incidentally, if you’re in the Houston area, don’t visit Convergence Christian Church either. You may find this hard to believe, but with the exception of yours truly, most of our members are pretty random and sarcastic. If you’re extremely intense and serious, you’d probably get a hankerin’ to face kick our pastor, and I can’t have that. We just had our rugs cleaned.

I think I’ve unintentionally yet successfully insulted most of the major players in the modern church planting movement, so I think my work here is done. A very special thanks to my friend and pastor Jeff Hogan, as well as Beth, my fellow geeky church planter in Terre Haute, Indiana: Land of the Slanket for their insight and contributions. Oh, and Jon. Of course, Jon!

Have you ever been part of a church plant? What do’s or “don’ts” would you add?

(How cool is Katdish? When she sent me the first draft of this post I told her in my best Christopher Walken cowbell impression, “I need more sarcasm. I’ve got a fever and the only cure is more sarcasm!” Did she reply with an angry email that simple said, “I’ll pray for your ungrateful heart?” Nope, she rewrote the post. To see the original version, which is longer and contains some good advice for you planters out there, check it out on her blog.)

I’ve started to use Twitter more. Not a lot, because sometimes the sandwich I’m eating doesn’t hold my attention never mind yours, but I’m definitely using it “more.” If you’d like to follow me, my name is prodigaljohn. I don’t have an “h” in my real name because I am Jonathan but then I don’t plan things very well, do I? Here are some recent tweets I’ve posted:

“gavin rossdale might be too pretty to be taken seriously, but the line “truth is I am done pretending” is still fantastic”

“David didn’t force his Goliath moment. He brought lunch. So then why do I keep trying to force God’s hand for something dramatic to happen?”

“the only thing hungrier than hate is love but neither one grows unless you feed it”

“before you have kids no one tells you how many opportunities you’ll have to use the plunger.”

“Solitude is the furnace of transformation.” – Henri Nouwen

So that’s me on Twitter. If you’d like to follow, here is the link.

Side hugs and verbal canaries,

Jon

Much like a lot of the fun on this site, I didn’t come up with this idea. A friend of the site emailed me months ago and said “You know what we Christians love to do? Break up with our girlfriends and boyfriends after a retreat.”

I thought that was funny and true. Next to unpacking, dumping your boyfriend or girlfriend is the best thing to do upon arriving home from a weekend retreat. (Throwing away all your music or movies is pretty fun too though.)

What usually happens is that on Saturday night, which is the cryfest night where the minister really amps up the emotion, you are asked to “lay something down for God.” God wants something. And often the most immediate something you can think to give to God is that dude you’re dating. So you go home after the retreat and you dump him.

But what if you’re that dude at home? What if you’re the girlfriend that didn’t go on the retreat? What if this is a relationship that could really work out and be great but it instead gets blindsided by what my friend would call a Saturday night session of “sloppy agape?” How do you prevent this from happening if it’s actually a good relationship worth saving?

I thought of a few ways:

1. Go on every retreat you possibly can.
Resist the urge to go to a Beth Moore ladies only retreat dressed as a woman, but other than that, you better go on every retreat your girlfriend goes on. (How awesome would it be to get the Wayan’s Brothers of White Chicks fame to make a movie where a guy dressed up like a woman so that he could sneak into a Beth Moore retreat? We could call it “Moore like a lady.” That idea is free by the way. Go ahead, take it.)

2. Meet your significant other at the church when they get dropped off.
With flowers or gifts or Myrrh if you can find it, it’s kind of out of season. Seriously though, wherever the drop off spot is for that retreat, go there. Bring a boombox like John Cusack in the movie “Say Anything” if you have to.

3. Leave a kind note in their Bible.
I’m not encouraging you to manipulate your boyfriend, if you don’t have something kind to write on a piece of paper you probably shouldn’t be dating this guy anyway. But if you do, if you’ve got some nice, loving words to put down, hide that note in his Bible. On the retreat, when he digs in to read it on one of those, “please go find a quiet place to read your Bible by a pristine lake” moments that are mandatory on retreats, it will be waiting for him.

4. Don’t call them a million times during the retreat.
Relationships are kind of like sharks, they can smell fear. If you call or text or twitter or send pigeons one million times to your girlfriend during the retreat, here’s what you’re going to be saying to her, “Please don’t dump me. Oh good grief, please don’t dump me. Seriously, don’t dump me. We can make this work. I’ll call you back in 30 seconds, please don’t think about dumping me during those 30 seconds when we’re not on the phone. Please.” As a girl, which I’ve never been and am thus wicked good at writing from the perspective of, that would make me instantly think, “Should I dump him? Things were good before I left for the retreat, but he’s all panicky. Maybe he knows something I don’t know.” Give your girlfriend or boyfriend space on the retreat. Let them enjoy the weekend with God without your constant interruptions. Unless you are going to make my movie “Moore like a lady” and then let the hijinx ensue.

If you follow these tips to the letter, if you execute them perfectly, you’re still probably going to get dumped. What can I do, the “give something up for God” moment on a retreat is too powerful for a mere mortal blogger to overcome. My hope though is that if you do experience this, if you are dumped after a retreat, you’ll remember this post, wipe your tears away and be able to laugh at the irony of the whole situation. Or you could always email this post to your ex-girlfriend with the subject line “Our love just became a Christian cliché,” and burn that relationship bridge while driving away listening to Poison’s “Every Rose has it’s Thorn.” Either option is pretty nice actually.

A few months ago, while driving up to Nashville I crossed over a lake in the middle of a majestic mountain range and the sun was setting and the water was shimmering like a thousand diamonds in a rapper’s grill and I didn’t even care that the whole experience would one day be captured in an impossibly long run on sentence because I felt like God had created that scene just for me.

I love finding God in nature like that. That is fun and special and something I look forward to when I go to beautiful places. But there’s a challenge.

We don’t all live in the mountains. Few of us live close enough to see the rise and fall of the tide for a God reminder. Most of us spend most of our days in gray walled cubicles, under florescent lights in corporate America. No mountain vista, no deep ocean divinity, no soaring eagle of sovereignty is found on the average Tuesday in an average week.

I think that in addition to finding God in extraordinary places, we need to look for Him in ordinary places. We need to make sure we don’t miss domestic miracles and mysteries. I remember once reading about the burning bush incident with Moses. I was blown away by the idea that in Exodus 3:3 it says, “So Moses thought, ‘I will go over and see this strange sight-why this bush does not burn up.” I started praying, “God give me strange sights in my own life. Please give me mysteries to explore.”

I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe some sort of massive mystery, with a map and a cool eye patch and at least one incident where I had to swing over a pit of snakes. Or maybe the sky would open and from the heavens I would see all of God’s nature reveal His majesty because I had requested a strange sight to explore like Moses.

Instead, I felt like God reminded me, “You want to explore a mystery? Your wife is a mystery. You don’t understand her. There’s your mystery. Get to know her better.”

I laughed. I had to laugh. I wanted the mountain top experience. I wanted to find God in nature like a burning bush or a safari trip where staring at something odd like a zebra forces me to deal with the creative mind of our Savior. Instead, in my small living room in my small ordinary house in Alpharetta, GA, God reminded me I was already engaged with a deep mystery. My wife.

Keep going to the ocean. Keep going to the mountains. Keep having your breath snatched away when you find a cross in nature. But don’t miss the domestic miracles and mysteries God brings across your path whether you’re married or single. They happen more than you think and are closer than you might have ever guessed.