true. I’m a Christian. I’ve seen studies that indicate that Christians actually have a lower divorce rate, something like 33 percentinstead of a 50 percent divorce rate like the rest of the country. How dare you misinform me!”
Shame on me, but arguing about whether Christians have a 33 percent or a 50 percent divorce rate is ridiculous. Look at it this way: Would it make a huge difference if one out of every three neighbors on your street got mauled to death by a bear or one out of every two? Would you sit around with friends and say, “Those bear stats are grossly exaggerated. I read that there are only 33 deadly Grizzly bears in our gated community, not 50. The media is so biased!”
No, regardless of the statistic, you’d be more careful about bears. You’d buy books on how to keep your house safe from bears. You’d carry a gun and bear spray. And when Valentine’s Day rolled around, you’d probably buy your wife a hot water heater.
Okay, one of those sentences had nothing to do with the metaphor but was in fact true. In my defense, it was a “State Select” model, which I’ve been assured is one of the sexier hot water heaters available. So don’t worry about us becoming a statistic; we’ll be fine.
CHURCH
If church is about worshipping God and not about me, then why did I break into a cold sweat when my wife started knitting one Sunday as we waited for service to start? “What are you doing? Put that away,” I said in a hushed whisper.
“What? I’m just knitting. What’s the big deal?” my wife said, clearly startled at my shallowness.
The big deal was that I mistakenly thought knitting was for almost-dead people. At the time I didn’t realize how hip and artistic knitting really was. I thought it was for old people who called the internet the “World Wide Interwebs” and collected plates commemorating events. It’s bad enough people near us don’t know we direct deposit our tithe and have a perfectly legitimate reason to stiff the offering bucket. Now I felt like I might as well be whittling a pipe out of a corn cob or churning fresh butter.
THE METROSEXUAL WORSHIP LEADER
When you tell someone about your church, there’s unfortunately not a standard system to describe the degree of metrosexuality your worship leader possesses. Wouldn’t it be awesome to say, “You’ll love my church and the music. We have a 78-point metrosexual worship leader”? Or if you were driving by a church and you saw a hip-looking “42” in the corner of the sign, you’d know instantly how metro the worship experience was going to be.
Doesn’t that sound fantastic? I think so, and as a service to churches around the world, I created an easy rating system to analyze how metrosexual your worship leader is:
How did your worship leader score? How did you score? And what’s it all mean? I’m glad you asked. Here’s how to assess a point total:
1 – 10 points = Hymnal Hero
You, my friend, are what is known in the industry as a “Hymnal Hero.” (That’s the industry of sarcasm, by the way.) You’re not metro in the least bit. You don’t like fruit-flavored Chapstick and think that songs that were written in this century, or the last one for that matter, are “too new.” If married, your wife tries to get you to wear hip jeans, but you’re not into it. When my cologne that smells like old hymnals comes out, you will buy a case.
11 – 20 points = Tomlin Curious
Oh, well hello there, you’re Tomlin Curious. I am, of course, referring to Chris Tomlin, one of the founding fathers of metrosexual worship leading. You’re currently dipping a toe, possibly even a pedicured toe, into the idea of all this. You still rock the occasional hymn, but recently you saw a wide leather bracelet at the mall and thought about getting it. When you sleep at night, you can hear voices calling you, “Come style your hair…Come frost your tips.”
21 – 40 points = Goatee Guy
Right now, you’re wearing Pumas
Shame on me, but arguing about whether Christians have a 33 percent or a 50 percent divorce rate is ridiculous. Look at it this way: Would it make a huge difference if one out of every three neighbors on your street got mauled to death by a bear or one out of every two? Would you sit around with friends and say, “Those bear stats are grossly exaggerated. I read that there are only 33 deadly Grizzly bears in our gated community, not 50. The media is so biased!”
No, regardless of the statistic, you’d be more careful about bears. You’d buy books on how to keep your house safe from bears. You’d carry a gun and bear spray. And when Valentine’s Day rolled around, you’d probably buy your wife a hot water heater.
Okay, one of those sentences had nothing to do with the metaphor but was in fact true. In my defense, it was a “State Select” model, which I’ve been assured is one of the sexier hot water heaters available. So don’t worry about us becoming a statistic; we’ll be fine.
CHURCH
If church is about worshipping God and not about me, then why did I break into a cold sweat when my wife started knitting one Sunday as we waited for service to start? “What are you doing? Put that away,” I said in a hushed whisper.
“What? I’m just knitting. What’s the big deal?” my wife said, clearly startled at my shallowness.
The big deal was that I mistakenly thought knitting was for almost-dead people. At the time I didn’t realize how hip and artistic knitting really was. I thought it was for old people who called the internet the “World Wide Interwebs” and collected plates commemorating events. It’s bad enough people near us don’t know we direct deposit our tithe and have a perfectly legitimate reason to stiff the offering bucket. Now I felt like I might as well be whittling a pipe out of a corn cob or churning fresh butter.
THE METROSEXUAL WORSHIP LEADER
When you tell someone about your church, there’s unfortunately not a standard system to describe the degree of metrosexuality your worship leader possesses. Wouldn’t it be awesome to say, “You’ll love my church and the music. We have a 78-point metrosexual worship leader”? Or if you were driving by a church and you saw a hip-looking “42” in the corner of the sign, you’d know instantly how metro the worship experience was going to be.
Doesn’t that sound fantastic? I think so, and as a service to churches around the world, I created an easy rating system to analyze how metrosexual your worship leader is:
How did your worship leader score? How did you score? And what’s it all mean? I’m glad you asked. Here’s how to assess a point total:
1 – 10 points = Hymnal Hero
You, my friend, are what is known in the industry as a “Hymnal Hero.” (That’s the industry of sarcasm, by the way.) You’re not metro in the least bit. You don’t like fruit-flavored Chapstick and think that songs that were written in this century, or the last one for that matter, are “too new.” If married, your wife tries to get you to wear hip jeans, but you’re not into it. When my cologne that smells like old hymnals comes out, you will buy a case.
11 – 20 points = Tomlin Curious
Oh, well hello there, you’re Tomlin Curious. I am, of course, referring to Chris Tomlin, one of the founding fathers of metrosexual worship leading. You’re currently dipping a toe, possibly even a pedicured toe, into the idea of all this. You still rock the occasional hymn, but recently you saw a wide leather bracelet at the mall and thought about getting it. When you sleep at night, you can hear voices calling you, “Come style your hair…Come frost your tips.”
21 – 40 points = Goatee Guy
Right now, you’re wearing Pumas
Similar Books
Green Grass
Raffaella Barker
After the Fall
Morgan O'Neill
Framed and Burning (Dreamslippers Book 2)
Lisa Brunette
The Detachment
Barry Eisler
A New Hope (The Second Chance Series Book 2)
Christina Escue
Executive Perks
Angela Claire
The Wedding Tree
Robin Wells
Kiss and Cry
Ramona Lipson
Cadet 3
Commander James Bondage
The Next Best Thing
Jennifer Weiner