The Man Child “Messiah”

Bless his tiny heart.

We’ve all seen a man child in the wild.
He’s the guy who thinks doing dishes deserves a medal.
The one who melts down when his fantasy football team loses, but hasn’t shed a single tear over actual human suffering.

But what happens when that man child doesn’t just crash the PTA meeting or the community chili cook-off where everything tastes like regret – what happens when he ends up in the Oval Office?

You get Trump 2.0.
The sequel no one asked for, directed by unchecked ego and scored entirely with rage tweets.

What Is a Man Child?

Let’s review.

A man child is an adult male whose little-bitty emotional maturity peaked sometime between the invention of Lunchables and getting a gold star for admitting they ate the Play-Doh. He:

• Demands praise for basic competence (see also: “I didn’t start a war today, where’s my parade?”)

• Blames literally everyone else when things go wrong (China, windmills, stock market…)

• Can’t take criticism without launching into a full-blown public tantrum

• Thinks empathy is for losers

• Confuses leadership with domination

• Believes rules are for the little people

In short: it’s all the entitlement of toxic masculinity, with none of the responsibility. Add in a power suit and a press pass, and you've got a walking constitutional crisis.

Trump: Man Child Deluxe Edition

Now, let’s talk specifics.

1. The Tantrums
He whined louder about losing Twitter than about losing the election.
He called judges “biased,” women “nasty,” and the FBI “meanies” for raiding his clubhouse.
He once threw his lunch at the wall because someone told him “no.”

Let me repeat that: the current President of the United States threw. His. Lunch.

2. The Grievance Machine
Every rally is a live-action pity party.
He’s somehow the richest, strongest, smartest man in every room – but also the most persecuted victim in American history.
Jesus got crucified once.
Trump thinks he’s being crucified every time Forbes forgets to include him on a billionaire list.

3. The “I-Me-Mine” Doctrine
Forget the Sermon on the Mount.
Trump’s theology starts with “I” and ends with “mine.”
If Jesus flipped tables in the temple, Trump installs a loyalty oath vending machine.
If the prophets cried out against corrupt rulers, Trump want’s names and addresses so he can hire them.

4. Fires the Babysitters, Replaces Them with Yes-Men in Flag Pins
In Trump 1.0, at least a few grown-ups were still in the room. They weren’t great, but some of them tried to keep the man child from sticking a fork in the nuclear socket.

But Trump 2.0?
There are no babysitters.
Just enablers.
Just folks who think the Constitution is optional and loyalty to Dear Leader is sacred law.

He’s he didn't build a Cabinet – he assembling a hype squad.
Folks who confuse vengeance with vision and think “checks and balances” is something you do at the bank.
People who believe “unquestioned obedience” is a fruit of the Spirit.

This time, he’s not looking for qualified.
He looked for quiet – the kind of quiet you get from folks too scared to say, “That’s illegal,” or “Sir, you can’t just invade Oregon.”

Theological Note: It Ain’t Just Immaturity – It’s Idolatry

Here’s the kicker: this isn’t just political.

Trumpism is theological malpractice.

It replaces humility with hubris.
Service with spectacle.
Truth with tantrums.

It is a gospel of me-first in a faith built on love-first.

Jesus said, “The last shall be first.”
Trump heard, “The loudest shall be praised.”

If that ain’t a full-on heresy cooked in authoritarian gravy, I don’t know what is.

Final Thought: We’re Not Babysitting This Again

Trump 2.0 is promising less democracy, more vengeance, and an executive branch run like a toddler with a flamethrower.

We’ve already seen the damage a man child in power can do:

• Rights rolled back.

• Communities terrorized.

• Compassion mocked.

• Truth turned into a joke.

This ain’t about partisanship.
It’s about basic human decency.

If your theology makes excuses for all this?
It’s not faith – it’s bootlicking.