We were standin’ in line at the church potluck. You know the kind.. folding tables with mismatched tablecloths, and a smell in the room that could make a grown man cry.

I was hangin’ back near the deviled eggs, strategizin’ my plate like a man about to make important decisions, when Pastor Bo’s voice rose up over the clatter of casserole lids.

“Brother Emmett, why don’t you bless the food for us?”

I turned slow, hopin’ maybe there was another Emmett standin’ behind me.

No such luck.

The whole room went quiet.

Brenda shot me that be serious look she keeps reserved for special occasions like this…

I took off my hat,

“Lord,” I started, “thank You for this… um… these potato things… and the casserole creations… and Miss Darla’s banana puddin’, which I already snuck a bite of, but I’m still real grateful for.”

Brenda sighed.

I kept goin’.. mostly because I didn’t know how to stop. By the time I was finished I’d thanked God for the food, the church, the farmers, the folding chairs… and at one point I think I thanked Him for napkins.

After I sat down fast. Too fast, I almost missed the bench.

Pastor Bo walked by, gave me a pat on the back.

“Wasn’t bad. You managed to name half the dishes.”

“Well, figured it’d be rude not to.”

Levi said it was the longest grace he’d ever heard.

Bobbi Jo said I talked more in that prayer than I did on the ride to church.

I said to ‘em both, “Sometimes when you don’t know what to say, you just say thank You a bunch and hope the Lord don’t mind repetition.”

Truth is, I was nervous. Not ‘cause I was scared to talk to God but ‘cause I didn’t wanna mess it up in front of people.

But you know what? The food still got blessed. And the Lord didn’t seem put off by my poor delivery.

Deciphering Emmett

Prayer is a matter of the heart. In Matthew 6:5–6, Jesus warned His disciples about the hypocrites who turned it into a public performance, praying loudly on the street so everyone would see how spiritual they were. They wanted an audience, and an audience was the only reward they got. Jesus pointed His followers the other way, to a quiet room with the door shut.

Then He gave them the pattern in Matthew 6:9–13,

“Pray, then, in this way:

‘Our Father who is in heaven, Hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done, On earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil. [For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.]”

He was showing them that prayer wasn’t focused on themselves but followed a different pattern altogether. Prayer should start with God’s name lifted, turn to our real needs, as they align with His will, and end by trusting Him with the rest. The strength of prayer like that is the grace of the Father who hears it, not the faith of the one who prays it.

A lot of believers stay quiet when it’s their turn to pray out loud, afraid they’ll stumble over the words. Somewhere along the line, they picked up the idea that God responds only when the words sound holy. Romans 8:26 says the Spirit Himself steps in and helps us when we don’t even know what to pray. Broken words still reach the throne of grace just the same, because the Spirit carries them there, not because God is grading your grammar.

When Emmett prayed, he was grateful, and he meant every word. Heaven welcomes a prayer like that with joy, because it’s real.

So the next time someone asks you to pray, and you feel your chest tighten, remember who’s listening. You’re talking to your Father, and He already knows what you need before you speak a word of it.

Even a quiet “thank You for the napkins” is worship. What God welcomes is a grateful heart, not an impressive one.

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In His Service,

I talk about Jesus and the Bible a lot. Sometimes on the radio, sometimes to people who willingly show up to listen. Occasionally, I write things down.

Before You Go

Word of mouth predates every distribution platform ever built and still outperforms them. When someone sends you an article, you’re more likely to take it seriously because you trust the person who sent it. So, you’re not starting from scratch, you already have a reason to give it your attention.

Most of the people who read this got here that way. Passing something along like that is still the most helpful thing you can do.

Share

Support the Writing (if you want)

Wretched Jim is free to read. If the writing has been helpful and you’d like to support the work, you can give here. No paid subscription necessary.

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Miss Patsy got the prayer chain rollin’ again last week.

Which, if you know Miss Patsy, means someone’s business is about to hit the airwaves in Jesus’ name.

She called Brenda late in the afternoon and said she had a “burden on her heart.”

Brenda put the call on speaker while she was cookin’ supper, and I listened from the table.

Patsy started in with, “Now I don’t know if this is my place to say, but I just feel led to share it for prayer…”

That’s how you know it’s about to get real unspiritual, real fast.

She brought up the youth pastor’s wife. Said she’s been lookin’ “awful different lately,” maybe tryin’ a new shampoo or “somethin’ more serious.” Then said she saw her at the store buyin’ almond milk and asked if that might be “a cry for help.”

Brenda tried to interrupt her and get the whole thing steered back,

“Miss Patsy,” she said. “Maybe we oughta just go ahead and pray right now.”

“Oh, absolutely dear. But before we do… you didn’t hear this from me, but I heard he’s been counseling that new girl, the one who always sits in the back…”

That was about all Brenda needed to hear. I know my wife, and I could see it on her face. But she didn’t raise her voice or make a show of it. She just stayed calm.

“Let’s pray, Patsy.”

And when I say she prayed, I mean Brenda prayed.

She prayed Scripture. She prayed for folks by name and asked the Lord to give us all some humility and grace.

It was five minutes straight of actual, Spirit-led intercession.

Then… there was silence.

Miss Patsy didn’t have much to say after that.

Brenda hung up the phone and stirred the gravy.

“Sometimes people forget God’s still listenin’ too.”

She’s right. Gossip tends to die quick when the room gets holy.

Deciphering Emmett

Gossip doesn’t always sound wicked. In the church, it often comes disguised as concern. But under the surface, it’s the same old sin of pride and a heart that would rather talk about people than pray for them.

James 3:10 is clear,

“From the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be this way.”

You can’t praise God and poison others with the same tongue and call it righteous.

Gossip destroys and breaks trust. It puts words in people’s mouths they never spoke and thoughts in others’ minds they didn’t need.

“A perverse man spreads strife, and a slanderer separates intimate friends.” (Proverbs 16:28)

God calls His people to something loftier. Ephesians 4:29 says our words should build up and give grace. Gossip doesn’t do that at all. And when we treat it casually, we forget that the Holy Spirit hears every conversation. That includes every “we need to pray for” update.

Brenda’s response was the right one. She didn’t shame Miss Patsy or argue with her. She simply redirected the entire conversation from something casual and flippant to something holy and reverent. And sometimes, that’s all it takes.

We don’t need to confront others or try to cleverly convict them. All we need are hearts that remember God’s always listening.

Real prayer doesn’t need gossip to stoke it. It needs love and concern for people. Because that love will cover a multitude of sins, not gather them.

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In His Service,

I talk about Jesus and the Bible a lot. Sometimes on the radio, sometimes to people who willingly show up to listen. Occasionally, I write things down.

Before You Go

Word of mouth predates every distribution platform ever built and still outperforms them. When someone sends you an article, you’re more likely to take it seriously because you trust the person who sent it. So, you’re not starting from scratch; you already have a reason to give it your attention.

Most of the people who read this got here that way. Passing something along like that is still the most helpful thing you can do.

Share

Support the Writing (if you want)

Wretched Jim is free to read. If the writing has been helpful and you’d like to support the work, you can give here. No paid subscription necessary.

Support

I don’t know much about the internet except that everybody on it appears to be standin’ too close to a wasp nest.

Levi tried to explain Twitter to me one time, then said it was called somethin’ else now, which I took as proof the thing was already ashamed of itself.

I got a phone that rings, and tells me when Brenda has put “milk” on the grocery list three separate times. That’s enough wires in my life.

But I do cut hair for men who know all about it.

Randy Haskins came into the barbershop one Tuesday needin’ a trim and carryin’ a face like he’d swallowed a spark plug.

He sat down and said, “People can’t handle the truth no more.”

I put the cape around him, “That right?”

“It was over that school board mess,” he said, “Caleb posted somethin’ ignorant, so I corrected him.”

Caleb was Randy’s nephew. Good kid.

“What’d you say?” I asked.

Randy shrugged, “Nothin’ but facts.”

Mr. Talley was waitin’ by the magazine rack. He lowered a Field & Stream from 2009 and said, “Facts got handles. Some folks swing ’em like axes.”

Randy ignored him, and I kept cuttin’.

Turns out Randy had written a long response under Caleb’s post. Then Caleb wrote back. Then Randy answered. Then Caleb’s mama got involved. Then Randy’s sister, Donna, said he’d always thought too highly of himself. Then Randy said Donna raised boys who couldn’t change a tire without watchin’ a video.

That’s how a school board meetin’ turned into three cousins not speakin’ and one aunt cancelin’ Sunday dinner.

Randy said, “They all took it personal.”

I trimmed around his ear, “You did mention the tire thing.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“So’s a thermometer,” I said, “But I don’t stick one in a man’s eye and call it medicine.”

He looked at me in the mirror like he wanted to argue, but I had scissors near his head.

After a minute he said, “I’m just tired of everybody bein’ soft.”

I nodded, “Could be.”

The shop got quiet except for the clippers hummin’.

I thought about how Randy talks in person. He ain’t cruel. He’s a little loud sometimes, and plenty opinionated. But I’ve seen him tote groceries for widows, and once he fixed a starter in the church parkin’ lot for a fella passin’ though.

But online, from what I was hearin’, he was carryin’ on like a rooster that found a mirror.

I brushed hair off his collar, “Donna still makin’ that banana pudding?”

He frowned, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothin’, just wonderin’ if facts taste better than banana pudding.”

Randy stared at himself awhile.

Then he said, quieter, “Caleb blocked me.”

I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but it sounded like the modern way of shuttin’ a door.

I said, “Well, doors open different than they shut.”

He sighed, “You think I ought to call him?”

“I think you ought not call him to finish the argument.”

He nodded, which was different from agreein’. Sometimes it’s just a man lettin’ down his defenses.

When I finished, Randy paid and left without sayin’ much.

That evenin’, I saw him at the gas station sittin’ in his truck on the phone.

Sunday, Caleb sat with Donna two pews ahead of Randy. After church, Randy walked over and handed Caleb a socket wrench.

I don’t know what was said. Probably not enough, but families are funny that way.

Caleb took it, and nobody in the room had to click a thing.

Deciphering Emmett

Scripture treats speech as a serious matter because words reveal and guide the heart. James says the tongue is small but can set a great fire (James 3:5–6). That warning doesn’t become less true when the words are typed instead of spoken.

Randy’s mistake wasn’t that he had an opinion that was different from someone else. Christians aren’t commanded to avoid disagreement. But we are commanded to speak in a way that reflects the holiness of Christ.

“Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that it will give grace to those who hear.” (Ephesians 4:29)

Truth isn’t a license to hurt people carelessly.

The internet removes the ordinary restraints of actual, face-to-face conversations. Meaning, we can’t see and discern things like facial expressions or tone. But God still sees the heart behind every word. Proverbs 18:21 says death and life are in the power of the tongue.

Repentance doesn’t always require some big, public speech. Sometimes it starts with declining to continue a fight and looking for peace where pride may have caused harm. Romans 12:18 says, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men.”

Subscribe now

In His Service,

I talk about Jesus and the Bible a lot. Sometimes on the radio, sometimes to people who willingly show up to listen. Occasionally, I write things down.

Before You Go

Word of mouth predates every distribution platform ever built and still outperforms them. When someone sends you an article, you’re more likely to take it seriously because you trust the person who sent it. So, you’re not starting from scratch, you already have a reason to give it your attention.

Most of the people who read this got here that way. Passing something along like that is still the most helpful thing you can do.

Share

Support the Writing (if you want)

Wretched Jim is free to read. If the writing has been helpful and you’d like to support the work, you can give here. No paid subscription necessary.

Support

We were halfway out the door for church when..

“Wait!”

Bobbi Jo tore back inside and came out holdin’ that little pink Bible of hers. The one with the worn-down zipper and leftover glitter in the seams from last year’s VBS.

“Daddy, I got my tithe.”

She unzipped the Bible and pulled out an envelope that’d clearly been through some things. Folded twice and puffed up like it was carryin’ state secrets.

Inside was a crayon drawing of Jesus, ridin’ what I think was a horse, though it might’ve been a cow.

Next to that, a small collection of three gummy bears (two red, one green), and two quarters stuck to a Post-it note that said, in big block letters..

FOR GOD.

I blinked. “What’s all this?”

She stood proud, “It’s everything I had in my purse.”

Brenda got misty-eyed, and I didn’t say much, mostly because I was tryin’ not to choke on the toothpick I’d been chewin’.

Come offering time, Bobbi Jo marched right down the center aisle, and held that envelope in both hands. She eased it into the plate like she was settin’ down something sacred.

Nobody else noticed.

But I did.

After church, Pastor Bo was standin’ by the door as usual, shakin’ hands. He leaned in, “I saw what she gave.”

I nodded. “Yeah… she gets her generosity from her mama.”

He smiled.

“And her investment strategy?”

“From me.”

He chuckled, then paused.

“That might be the most honest gift we’ve taken up all year.”

On the way home, Bobbi Jo asked if God liked gummy bears.

Brenda said, “Sweetheart, He made the man who invented ‘em.”

I don’t know exactly what heaven’s treasury holds, but if there’s a place for heartfelt, sticky, five-year-old faith.. I reckon Bobbi Jo just added to it.

Deciphering Emmett

God doesn’t measure gifts the way we do. He’s not looking at the size of what’s in your hand, but rather the surrender in your heart. In Mark 12:41–44, Jesus watched people give at the temple, and it was the poor widow who caught His attention.

True giving isn’t about checking a box or proving devotion. It’s about whether your heart says, “Lord, I’m Yours—and so is everything I have.” Second Corinthians 9:7 reminds us that “God loves a cheerful giver.”

Bobbi Jo’s handful of gummy bears didn’t have any economic weight, but it had something much larger.. eternal meaning. She gave with open hands and love. That’s the kind of offering God treasures, because it reflects childlike trust in Him.

Psalm 50:10 says He owns the cattle on a thousand hills. He’s not short on resources, and He’s not waiting on your contribution to finish His plan. He invites you to give, because giving is sanctifying. It molds you more and more into His image.

It doesn’t have to be big, and it doesn’t have to make sense to others. Whether it’s money, time, or your talent, what matters is the heart behind it.

Last Saturday started normal and went sideways around lunchtime.. which is about par for the course around here.

Levi had been readin’ his Bible a lot lately. And let me just say, I’m proud of that. It’s a beautiful thing when a young boy starts askin’ eternal questions. But when Levi gets real quiet and real focused, it either means he’s bein’ led by the Spirit… or he’s lookin’ for a loophole.

This time, it was a little of both.

Brenda had been talkin’ to him all week about salvation and about what it means to really follow Jesus. He’d been soakin’ it up like a dry sponge. But Levi ain’t exactly the wait and ask questions type.

I was out back changin’ the oil in the mower when Bobbi Jo comes tearin’ through the yard like the house is on fire, hollerin’, “Daddy! Levi went full John the Baptist down in the creek!”

I didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound like something I oughta ignore.

I slipped my boots halfway on and jogged down toward the creek, Blue barkin’ the whole way like revival broke out without him. Sure enough, there’s Levi, standin’ knee-deep in the coldest water in Georgia, arms raised, lookin’ like he’s about to call down thunder.

He sees me and grins big. “Daddy, I did it! I baptized myself!”

I blinked a few times. “You what now?”

“I prayed, and repented.. then I dunked myself three times. Once of the Father, once for the Son, and once for the Holy Spirit!”

I stood there, mostly tryin’ to figure out if I should be proud or concerned. “Son,” I said, “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but baptism ain’t a solo sport.”

He thought for a second and said, “Well, Bobbi Jo was watchin’.”

I said, “Bobbi Jo also once told us her stuffed rabbit could see angels and cried for an hour when the vacuum ate her sock. We’re not usin’ her as a witness.”

Right about then, Brenda came walkin’ down the trail.. She had that Sunday school teacher tone.

“Levi Emmett Jackson, you’re not allowed to perform your own ordinances.”

“But Mama, I meant it!”

And you know what? I believe he did. But we got him dried off and drove straight over to Pastor Bo’s. Told him the whole story. Pastor Bo laughed so hard he had to sit down, then looked at Levi and said, “Well son, seems like the Lord’s workin’ on you. But let’s do it the right way next time, with the church, and preferably with warm water.”

Levi nodded. Then asked if he could still count the creek one, just in case.

Deciphering Emmett

Levi baptized himself in the creek, and Scripture never shows a believer doing such a thing. The ordinance is always administered by another, because the Lord placed baptism in the hands of His church.

In Matthew 28, Christ commissioned His disciples to make disciples and baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The assignment was given to the church, and from Pentecost forward, baptism has been carried out that way.

Levi’s heart was in the right place, but sincerity doesn’t give a believer authority over an ordinance Christ defined. The structure belongs to the One who instituted it, and the administering belongs to the people He commissioned.

Baptism also says something to those who see it. The believer confesses Christ before the watching church, and the church receives that confession and rejoices in it. Romans 6 teaches that the water represents a finished work and union with Christ in His death and resurrection. The old man is buried, and the new man is raised. That’s meant to be displayed before the church, not performed alone.

Writing has always been part of my life in some form or fashion. I’ve always enjoyed the process of writing, but never really fiction. Most of what I’ve written over the years has been tied to my work in radio. As I got into ministry, more of my writing shifted toward sermon preparation, but nothing in me ever really thought about creating fictional people who lived in a fictional world.

Until a few years ago.

A few years back, the ministry I work for, Fortis Institute, was getting ready for a rebrand. As part of that, we talked through a lot of new content ideas, and one idea that kept coming to me was from something I remembered from my previous radio job.

It was a daily radio feature called Earl Pitts: Uhmerikun. If you’ve lived in the South or listened to country radio, you might be familiar with it. Earl Pitts was created and voiced by Gary Burbank, and it was a bit about this fictional character who would talk about politics or whatever he wanted, really. It was comedy built around a conservative worldview.

The idea I kept coming back to was a character-based daily feature, but instead of focusing on politics, it would focus on theology. I wondered what it would look (or sound) like to have a character talk about theological truth in a plain, ordinary way that everyday people could understand.

I thought the idea had potential, so I wrote out the concept and put together a few sample scripts. Then I sat down to record them, and that’s where my problems started.

I have a decent enough radio voice, but character voicing is a different animal altogether. I figured that out pretty quick. No matter how many times I tried, every version sounded forced. I knew the writing had something to it, but the delivery just wasn’t working. It sounded like me trying to be somebody else, and not in a good way. Eventually, I gave up on it and moved on.

About a year later, I was digging around on my home computer looking for some tax documents for my wife, and I came across those old scripts. I opened them up mostly out of curiosity, and as soon as I started reading, it hit me. This wasn’t a daily radio feature. It was an entire world.

That afternoon, I sat down and started trying to figure out who this man was, and that’s where Emmett Jackson was born. His wife, Brenda, came with him. So did their children, Levi and Bobbi Jo, and their blue tick hound, Blue.

Over the next few weeks, the pieces started falling into place. I know there’s a lot of language writers use for that sort of thing, like character development and worldbuilding, but I don’t really understand much of that. All I know is telling stories through the voice of Emmett Jackson comes easy to me.

So who is Emmett Jackson?

Well, the basic idea is that Emmett is a man living with his family in a fictional Southern town, and he tells stories from his own life. They’re normal stories about his job, family, church, marriage, and the kind of situations all of us find ourselves in sooner or later. Some of them are funny, and some of them are a little uncomfortable. Most of them are the kind of things we would probably recognize in our own lives.

But under all of the stories is theology.

Emmett’s not focused on the theology, which is part of the point. Most of us are not walking around thinking about the theology of our lives either. But it’s there, whether we recognize it or not.

That’s the purpose behind this whole concept. I want to highlight the theology that shows up in everyday life.

Anyone who knows me knows how much I love theology, but I don’t believe it’s exclusive to pastors or seminary students. But that’s what the large majority of us have been trained to believe.

That’s just not true. Theology shows up in the way we treat our wives and children. It shows up when we’re upset or disappointed, when we’re dealing with money, or when we’re confronted with our own sin. It’s everywhere.

That’s the reason behind Emmett Jackson.

The stories you’re going to read here are fictional, but the truth under them is real. My hope is that they help you see theology a little more clearly, not as something academic, but as something that’s already showing up in the life you’re living.

Well, if you’re readin’ this, I reckon somebody told ya, “You gotta meet this fella,” or you just stumbled across it lookin’ for somethin’ worth your time.

Either way, hello.. Name’s Emmett Jackson.

I ain’t famous or anything. I drive a school bus in the mornings and cut hair in the afternoons. Been livin’ in the same county my whole life, and truth be told, I don’t have much ambition to leave it. We got everything a person needs right here.. a grocery store that still sells rag bologna, a Baptist church with one good pew and two broke air vents, and folks who’ll bring you banana pudding even when you didn’t ask for it.

I’m married to Brenda. She’s a school teacher, and the smartest person I know. Got a tone in her voice that can stop a child, or a grown man dead in his tracks. She’s the glue that holds this whole thing together, even if I don’t always tell her like I should.

We got two young’uns, Levi and Bobbi Jo.

Levi’s eleven, and has the energy of a raccoon in a fireworks stand. He’s got a good heart, buried under a layer of poor decisions and pocket lint. Bobbi Jo is younger but acts older. She runs the house and knows it.

We also got a blue tick hound named Blue. Not real creative on the name, I know. But he answers to it, and that’s more than I can say for half the folks I went to high school with.

We go to that Baptist church I was talkin’ about. Our pastor, Pastor Bo, preaches the truth and sweats through every dress shirt he owns. He’s a good man, I trust him, and that’s sayin’ somethin’ these days.

I don’t have a degree in nothin’. But I’ve seen a lot. Sat through funerals, held babies, lost my temper, asked for forgiveness, and changed more mower blades than I care to count.

So if you’re goin’ to stick around, you’ll hear some stories. Some are funny, and some are dumb. But they’re mine, and they come from tryin’ to follow Jesus the best way I know how.

Pull up a chair. I’ll put the coffee on.