Posted on: October 13, 2015 Posted by: vudfc Comments: 0

By Matt

My mom sends a pretty good text message. But it was not always so. In the early days of the Text Message Revolution for Parents (TMRP), my mother would send things like:

“Mat tare you stilly sick? Lovew, Mim.”

I don’t really ever recall being stilly sick, but I do recall error-laced text messages. You probably do too. From your aunt or grandmother or partying friend. Truth is, it used to be fairly easy to mis-type in all sorts of ways–sometimes even beautifully mishappen.

Not so anymore. As Jamiroquai put it (in the throwback song I am typing this post to: “Virtual Insanity”), we are creating “futures made of virtual insanity.” Well, that insanity has been curbed a bit by the implementation of Auto-correct, taking the mess of my mother’s text, and making them mostly sensible, rational, shareable sentiments:

“Matt are you still sick? Love, Mom.”

I’m not sick, at least not physically, but man, heart-wise? I’ve got the fever. What I need is an Auto-correct for life. And not for accidental errors, but rather for errors in judgment, for selfish impatience, for harsh tones with those I love (and with those I don’t). If I could just Auto-correct the heart sickness that spews out of my mouth on a daily basis or the unwise decisions I make.

Of course, there is a form of this . . . it just isn’t automated. It comes through close friendships with people who love me in a way that seeks my best. People who are willing to bring a rebuke my way and let me know when it appears the syntax of my life is in disarray.

We used to laugh at some of the incoherent text my mother sent. And then she got better. I hope my future is not one of spiritual insanity, but rather one wherein I would turn the Auto-correct feature on by activating deep, discerning friendships in my life, and being humble enough to give heed to their advice.

Without counsel plans fail, but with many advisers they succeed. Proverbs 15:22


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