23 July 2014

7 Things Ain't Nobody Got to Teach Me

by Clark Briscoll

OK: this is not a break in my hiatus.  What this is, is my poking around in the blog archives trying to find a post which I can convert into a bible study for a situation I have volunteered for at church tomorrow.  I actually did have something in the archive which I found useful and sufficient, but I also found this post which never made it out of draft status, and which is probably funnier in retrospect than it would have been when I originally wrote it in 2013.

It's all inside baseball, but you guys are fans.  You'll get it immediately, and if not I blame myself for being on Hiatus so long.

Still on Hiatus.  Sorry.


File this under: Church Church Leadership Wisdom Calling Church History Stewardship

Way Past his shelf life
Recently, I have just come off my 18-month probation for making a new friend in a new market demographic -- something we used to call "missional," but which some people insist on calling being "unequally yoked," but which was obviously just a case of old, white guys being unable to take a seat at the back of the bus, if you see what I'm saying.  But, because they all played nice with me when my new books came out since then, and were very fair and balanced in promoting my books for sale to their market demographics, I forgive them.

While I have learned much from their good tidings and secret chidings, and I'm not afraid to say so, there are seven lessons that ain't nobody needed to teach me which I think are critical for you to learn if you're going to continue to be someone who wears my t-shirts and endorses my books.  They are all center-bound around an idea which Eugene Peterson once had: "Wonder can't be packaged."


Listen: when God has called you to something, obviously He's the one in charge of your success.  So just do whatever occurs to you, and then you can be sure that He will at least send you visions of sex and violence when there's nothing else to be said.  Also: there's nobody like you, babe.


Seriously now - there comes a time when there's nobody left to reach after you have thrown all the gospel-reduced nay-sayers out for everything from disagreeing with your language to making sound points about Biblical ethics which would force lesser men to quit or at least take a sabbatical to reorganize their lives.  If you syndicate, and only see people video video screen (meaning: they only see you once a week, and you never have to see them), that's a plush gig.


It's a well-known fact that nothing works like a Ponzi scheme except a Ponzi scheme -- and the only way to really multiply fruitfulness is to let other people in for a taste.  Again, when God has verbally told you that you're his guy, who can lay a finger on God's anointed?


The trick of course is to turn popularity into something that other people think they are getting by being close to you.  Especially the guys who always have been and always will be the bookish kind who hang out in the library.  If they think that they can be as popular as you are by hanging out with you?  That can be monetized.  You might even get to be a best-selling author with their help.


That's just common sense after #4 - no sense hanging out with the Library squad if they are not pulling their weight.  Your face and rep might be enough to move product, but nothing says "ECPA award" like the endorsements of old guys who think they can finally reach the young people.


"Retirement" ought to be a code-word for "collecting the royalties."  That is, at some point, you are the brand, and all you have to do is show up to collect the paycheck.  And why wouldn't you do that?  Do I have to remind you that God called you verbally?


It's a good gig if you can get it.  There's no sense in worrying yourself to death over stupid things like homeschool moms and seminary presidents.  I'm personally going to keep the top down, crank the music loud, and blame my wife when I'm not happy in our marriage.  I have nothing to do all day but smile and wave.


Tom Chantry said...

I was determined to read this early today and comment something like, "But I don't get it."

Only I can't.

Because this. Is. Brilliant.

Patrick Dudenhofer said...

*wipes a tear from eye*


Robert said...

Didn't take long to figure out Clark Briscoll...HA! This was good. And spot on...this is the guy that lost people make cracks about being really smart in duping people for their money. And just another glaring discernment issue for Piper and the folks at TGC.

GAHCindy said...

Wish I understood the part about homeschool moms. :)

Frank Turk said...

I miss oneStarHater

Tom Chantry said...

If it would help, I could one-star your post.

Robert said...

Maybe OSH thought he had finished his work when you went on hiatus...

Webster Hunt said...

If hiatused Frank Turk means we get more gold nuggets like this I say more hiatus!

Anonymous said...

Made me spew my starbuckish coffee thing all over my glasses and grungy crochet hat.

Kyle said...

Haskell? Wicked.

Aaron Snell said...

Tom: You're NOT Onestarhater?!?

Tom Chantry said...


Drawn stars are a graphic representation of the "hosts of heaven" which ancient pagans worshiped. I would not want to even appear complicit in the sin of idolatry.

Moreover, the practice of rating blog posts with stars is predicated upon human pride. Since all of our posts are filthy rags, they do not even deserve one star.

Having reason both within the first and second tables of the Moral Law to avoid star ratings - even of one star - I cannot with good conscience be "One Star Hater."

(That Kind Of Puritan)

Anonymous said...

Reading this forum often gives me images of a high school cafeteria. But in this case, it's a high school of pastors and theologians. And there's several tables where all the popular kids sit. And so you have Driscoll, Piper, Mohler, and Warren all sitting together at these tables. And they're kings of the school. On the athletic field and even in the classroom, they're legends, and they're always horse-playing, laughing it up with each other and skirting the rules whenever they get the chance. And they're loved by teachers and girls alike. And then you go over to the long-table at the high school, where all the unpopular kids sit, and on one end of it is where all of team pyro sits. Ever so often a girl might come over. And you all look hopeful. Finally she says, someone told me Frank Turek sits here, where is he? And then you shrug, and then you point over to the other section. And the popular group is not even the kind that makes fun of you. Rather, they simply regard you as non-existent. You're not even worth a response from them. And you'd be embarrassed to tell anyone about the homicidal fantasies you have about them. Even though you all share them.

Frank Turk said...

Paul Reed --

That was a great comment all the way down to "homicidal fantasies."

I think it really doesn't make any sense to hate these guys for what they are doing to themselves - because let's face it: in a Christ-centered universe, these guys are destroying themselves. I honestly feel sorry for them, and I honestly only want them to see what their antics are doing to their own character, and to those who look to them for spiritual and moral direction.

They can be the popular kids. Because we are human, someone has to be popular. But when popularity rather than God's economy for life and faith have become the ends rather than one means (and not the best means by far), we're back in Catholicism of the lat middle ages, and back in jerusalem where the High Priest is telling Paul And John not to do anything in that fellow Jesus' name anymore because that fellow Jesus is the wrong authority (and you smelly fishermen are offensive) [Acts 3-4].