Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, Huh?! Say that again!

Moralistic Therapeutic Deism – Not my words… It’s a phrase that I’ve been running across in recent months though. And, it is what most teenagers and young adults in America think about God. Breaking it down, it means the following: 1) Deism – there is a God who made the world and is out there somewhere. 2) Moralistic – All I’ve got to do is be a relatively good person and I deserve the best out of this life and I will go to heaven when I die. 3) When I need God, he should be there to attend to my needs. What I’ve just described is a sad reality if that’s what the young of our society gather about God.

In contrast, here’s what I believe about those three points. God, is the creator of earth and all that is in it. But, he has been intimately involved with his creation since the day he made it. He seeks to be glorified by his creation and he personally made the way of our salvation that we would glorify him with our lives. Secondly, as moral as we can be, outside of accepting the atoning work of Jesus Christ on the cross, we are all destined for a terrible end – eternal separation from God – in the form of hell. And, the reasoning behind that is, at our 'moralest', we are still haters of God and rebels that deserve to die because of our rebellion.  And, as for being there when I need him, he is never far from any of us, but that is not his chief aim in the world. Again, God is the creator, he is the one to be worship and adored – not us.

So, the point I’d like to make here is that we must know more about our God – the true and living God. It is important that Christians know what they believe and be able to articulate it. Beyond being able to articulate it, we must articulate it. And, I think in so doing, just by looking into what it is to be a follower of Christ, some of us might find that we haven’t been following him at all. And, in that case, there is an urgent matter of knowing that you know him because without him, we are destined to perish.

Much love!

Roots

Okay, some of you will see the title of this entry and wonder if I’m going to cover the book written by Alex Haley covering the history of his family from Africa into slavery in America. Some others of you may see the title and think of black magic. I can’t think of how many times I’ve seen an infomercial where somebody says, “She put a root on me!”, exclaiming that someone had done something through use of an old evil practice to hinder that person’s progress through life. And, lastly some of you know that I’m just an old country boy who spent too much time in the hay fields and the woods of rural Sumter County, Alabama. So armed with that knowledge, you might think I’m going to cover horticulture. But, none of these are it.

Instead, I want to talk about the root of who we are and what we do. I recently met a seven year old kid. In him I saw lots of things that had a root of some sort. And, by that word root, I mean an origin. And, in the experience I learned things about myself that I wondered, what are the origin of these? My experience with this little guy made me question where his parents were and what they were thinking to not bring him up with a solid structure? It seemed that he had wondered through most of his life not experiencing real love; the kind of love that I received from my immediate and extended family when I was his age. They thought enough of me and of themselves to guide me through life. Their love affirmed me when I did well. It guided me when I lost my way. It corrected me when I was wrong. But, I looked at this little guy and it was as if he had no consistent affirmation when he did well. He was lost but he fought the very idea that anyone could show him the way. And, he found for himself that he was never wrong. It was only those that offered guidance and correction that could be wrong.

So, to the root of the matter, how far back does blame go for one child who is passed from home to home, never staying long enough to really soak in real love and experience what it is like? And, I am partially to blame because he passed right through here but I find some challenges are indeed too much for one man and his family when work and many other things are calling. Oh, I pray that God helps us to get something right before we leave this earth. Help us to love and help us to explore our roots and eliminate the cause of shallow ones –roots that is.

Much love my friends!
J. Wright

Toes

Okay. This has nothing to do with my toes. Because if you ever saw my toes which have been battered by many door facings, many bed posts, many sofa legs, and most of all the front of my running shoes, it would send you running for the hills so fast and so far that you’d get lost in the process.  So instead, see Baby Caleb's toes.  They're much nicer than mine.

Instead this post is about one of my favorite songs by a person who is somewhere on my list of favorite music artists. Norah Jones sings this song – Toes. And, the phrase that is key is that “[her] toes just touched the water”. This song reminds me of life here with people around us. When the current is swift and strong, we should be jumping in to live life deeply and intentionally, but instead we play around the edge daring to only dip our toes into what could have been.

We prefer life on the bank of the river where we can talk about sports, the weather, and our favorite TV shows. And, when that wears out, we can talk about other people and their faults to take the attention off of ourselves. Instead, we should be going deep, talking about our own needs, our own faults, our own true successes. And, then we should turn our attention to the world around us with love in our hearts and address the deepest need that it has—the need for a Savior King to redeems us from our fallen state. So, friends jump in (if you know how to swim) and show someone who you are and be a friend to someone that needs you.  I wrote this mostly for myself.  I owe a group of people an apology because I feel called to go deep with them but instead I dabble around the edge in bitterness and judgmentality.  And, hopefully soon, I'll have the courage to do that.  :)

Much love my friends!

For a play of the song, here ya go

Dear Old Dad!

I may get scolded for writing this the week of mother’s day, but yesterday I was in the yard getting the grass cut with some unnamed help. As I stood there and thought, I remembered having a grass cutting business when I was ten. Of course this wasn’t my idea. It was my dad’s. He just came home one day, looked at me and said, "I’ve got a yard for you to cut." Now, I can’t remember if I’d ever cut grass a day in my life before then. What I do remember is that we started and we cut the grass at the twins’ new house. (The twins were my neighbors for a while along with their mom and their big sister Vickie – but they moved to town so they were no longer my neighbors. Just thought you’d like this background info.)

Anyway, the thought started with the grass cutting, but it ended up running through a number of places. One of the thoughts was how much I admired my dad because of the type of guy that is. I admire him because he speaks to EVERYBODY. I can be a little shy and insecure when it comes to speaking to random people, but he doesn’t care who you are or where you are, he’s going to say hello in that Southern small town kind of way. I admire him because of all the things that he taught me growing up. He maybe wasn’t always patient with my laziness or my not understanding his explanation on how to do stuff, but I didn’t care. I was just glad he let me tag along. Because of him, I hate to borrow money, I cut my own grass, I know how to work on my own car, and I’m the easygoing-laidback-alwayslaughing guy that I am. I could go on and on, but the main point here really is that I love my dad. He’s a nice guy and I want to be more like him.