Whispers that Wound

•  "I wonder why she did that?"
• "What in the world is going on with her???"
• "I heard that they said..."

My mind runs swift, squarely judging these phrases unsound. Harmful to human relationship.  What I'd rather not admit, is the ease with which they slip off my tongue and into my conversation; accompanied by only tiniest twinge of guilty pleasure. Something I indulge when other sins are deemed less seemly to my carefully curated "Christian" aesthetic.

With apathetic ease we scroll through Pauline lists of vices, taking comfort in supposed virtues: At least I'm not faithless. Would never dream of deceit. Haven't missed a church service or sloughed off a youth meeting. Wouldn't stoop to sexual sin or parade around immodestly.

Satisfied in self-assessment, my eye begins to roam. Pinning down image bearers deemed above or below my own careful curation. An unsoftened gaze, carving a caste system made-to-order. My own status of course solidly middle class.

The whispers begin (but seldom stay) quiet.  Statements curved into a question I cloak in concern.  "Shame on her" dressed in "Bless her heart." The sharing of a story--delicious, dramatic, but not mine to tell. The unhealthy obsession of another's business--nothing but opportunity for Trouble.

Believers can't claim ignorance, we've been well forewarned.  James is a faithful scribe in alerting us to the dangerous potential living inside our smile.  To underestimate the consequences of my tongue is a devilish game, with which I'm too often tempted to roll the dice.

• "It's not that big of a deal.."
• "I promise I've only told one person.."

Dismissal more familiar than repentance, we reckon away the twinge of conviction. Choose proclamation over prayer. (The tale so tiny, it couldn't possibly make a difference) Forgetting the truthful paradox--big things happen in small spaces too.  The passionate words of James shake loose our rose-colored glasses:

"So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire!  And the tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness.  (James 3:5-6a)

Slightest flicker of match, tiniest movement of tongue.  Beginning with a breath, then catching with the breeze; bringing out-of-control chaos I cannot contain. A vast forest blazes hot, burning bridges and killing confidence--the cumulative effects of barely measured words. Heartache and havoc, drama and distrust. Compound interest accrued with each retelling.

Imagine the demon's delight as whispers and jabs are dealt by the very ones who are marked set apart: 

"By this will all people know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:35)

How often is the destruction of compassion and Christ-like witness a casualty of my craving to know?  Instead of choosing to walk with the wounded, I indulge the satisfaction of a well-placed put-down.  Hot-takes and hypocrisy on display to a watching world.

"With the tongue we praise our God and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who are made in God’s likeness" (James 3:9)

The center of this chapter cuts deep, piercing the comfortable habits of speech which culture assures me are perfectly ok. Scripture would say otherwise, placing gossip and slander as astonishing arrogance against the very image of God himself.  The certainty of this truth lands heavy.  Overwhelming even.  Perhaps it's meant to.

My mind races, wishing everyone would shut up already.  How ironic.

But before I throw in the towel,

                 throw up my hands,

                 throw caution to the wind--

Before reassuring myself that

                 "church people talk"--

What if I prayed for the courage to turn towards the mirror? Facing the reality that change could begin with me; standing with no disguise before the One who holds all the power I do not.

When a story seems just so juicy, am I brave enough to pray for my very desires to be changed? Do I believe, really and truly, that my everyday dependence on Jireh (the Lord who Provides) will equip me with power to steward my speech with wisdom? Not only that, but the discipline of my words is directly linked to a greater portion of self-control in all areas of the human struggle! (James 3:2)  Compound interest grows both ways, but I determine the direction.

I want to keep fighting this good fight.  To believe that the keeping of my tongue and the weighing of my words is a discipline worth embracing--not a task to disdain.  Will you join me in this worthy work?  Honestly pray for a vision of redemptive relationships marked by kindness and care?

That the love of our Father, and the life of his Son, and the breath of his Spirit, might ignite a new and wholly different flame among us:

To be marked by our love, rather than known for our knowing.

• What if I believed the best before assuming the worst?
• Listened as a keeper of confidence, instead a sharer of secrets?
• Paused before passing on, sought discernment through prayer?

Father & Creator of each priceless human:

Keep my tongue from evil and my lips from talking trash.  Give me eyes to see your image displayed in the faces of those I'm tempted to tell tales of.  Help me seek peace and pursue it--with the knowledge that building your kingdom begins with being your disciple. Doing what you've commanded. Loving as you love.  Laying down my words as weapons, becoming an instrument of peace. Amen.

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This post has been a few months in the making. My prayer would be that it lands with more hope than heaviness. As always, I would love to continue this conversation in the comments. To the friends who gave me constructive feedback on this piece (you know who you are)--I feel privileged to have such trust-worthy eyes on my words, thank you.

Another update:

Beginning next week, I plan to post the introduction to a series of posts working through the topic of authentic friendships in adulthood. (a passion project)  For me, this subject feels like fresh air, sounds like summertime, and tastes like joy. I can't wait to dive in.