Let the Cement Set

Have you ever thought about how the tiniest and smallest of things can have so much control over something much bigger and greater than the afore? A bit placed in the mouth of a horse can control it's entire massive, herculean body. A piece of metal 5-8" long, can control a 300-2,000 lb. animal.

Same with a ship. Most ships and carriers are steered by a small rudder. These massive vessels are subject to strong winds, the strength of the body of water they sail, yet their captain may go in the direction he or she chooses by steering the rudder. So tiny in comparison to the size of that which it controls.

And thus, our tongues. This small muscle in our mouths can be so very controlling. Aside from its purpose to assist in eating and taste, our tongue forms words.

The tongue can heal, help, love, brighten, set free, bring truth, bring comfort. Yet it can hurt, harm, destroy, lie, darken, cut, sever, lash out.

The hardest muscle to control, and yet one of the smallest.

In the letter of James, he says that no one can tame the tongue. With it we bless and with it we curse - from the same mouth both blessing and cursing.

Ouch.

We are to be S-L-O-W to speak, and quick to hear. Me? I can't even remember half of the things I say. I say them so quickly, without even thinking. In fact, Philip and I have gotten into arguments recently, because I won't remember what I've said, or I won't remember saying anything about the subject in question at all. Not good. And at times I can't remember what someone has said to me - why? Most likely because my minds too busy thinking of what I'm going to say next. Ugh.

I have been hurt very badly, very deeply by words, both spoken and written. Words are forever. They can be forgiven, but they can never be taken away. If I had to keep a written record of all of the mean things I've said - all of the harsh comments, quick retaliation to those who've offended me or a loved one, things I didn't really mean, but that hurt, snide comments and so on - not only would I be writing for a very, very long time, but I would collapse in exhaustion from weeping and agonizing over the pain and hurt I have caused. All of the flesh I have pierced with my venemous words - some formed wounds that have scabbed and since healed, some have left scars, and some will forever remain a flesh wound.

A great forest can be set aflame by a very small fire. The tongue is a fire, the very world of iniquity; the tongue can defile the entire body, and sets on fire the course of our life (v 3:5-6).

Maybe the time it would take, and the pain it would become, to record every hurtful/cursing thing I said, would assist me in slowing down my deadly poison-laden muscle. Because let me tell you - every morning I can pray and ask that I be given strength to bridle my tongue, and it's not 20 minutes later that I'm asking myself why I just said something. Why did that even cross my mind or come out?

It's lack of self control. If you can control your tongue, then you can control every other part of your body.

It's also habit. The constant movement and flicker of our tongues is a habit. Moments of silence are uncomfortable for some, so we fill them. Knowledge feels good and so we speak it, freely. Opinions voice expression, so we voice them. Silence is almost seen as stupidity. You may feel if you don't respond immediately, then you appear as if you were at a loss for words or ideas or opinions. You feel uncomfortable.

Ever given much thought to a cement truck? The trucks with the cone-shaped area at the back that constantly turns so that the cement inside doesn't solidify?

I think I've been living with a bag of quickcrete in my mouth. I'm afraid if I stop spewing forth thoughts, comments, opinions, ideas, knowledge, gossip, news, mindless chatter - that the quickcrete will set. But that's what I need. I need the cement to sit, and to set. I need something that heavy, that solid, that permanent, to S-L-O-W me down. I need to ask myself what the purpose is of what I'm about to say. I need to ask myself what my intentions are of what I'm about to say, BEFORE the words come forth. Because once they come forth, they're etched somewhere. They are then the concrete. And even if you get your big sledge hammer out and bust them up with a few slugs of forgiveness and few slugs of apology and few slugs of trying to forget - the tiny pieces will still remain.

What a chore! And an ongoing one at that. Like trying to keep a house clean with two toddlers, a husband, a dog, and me.