What Words Are For

What Words are For--July 13, 2016

"Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear." [Ephesians 4:29]

Let's talk about screwdrivers.  The flathead or Philips kind, not the vodka-and-orange-juice kind.  Screwdrivers, of course, are meant for construction--for (wait for it, wait for it) driving in screws to the wood or metal pieces that are going to become your chair or bookcase or child's toy.  They are made for making other things.  Even if you are using a screwdriver to un-screw something, the idea is that a screw lets you keep the rest of the object intact and even lets the screw be put back in later if you choose--unlike, say, a hammer, which has a way of bending the nails beyond re-use when you use the claw to pull one out.  Screwdrivers are meant for something constructive, in other words.

But, yes, of course, a screwdriver can fill in for a chisel or a scraper or a small crowbar if you are determined to use it that way.  They can puncture, scrape, scratch, and pry.  And sure, I will confess that in a pinch I have been one to use a screwdriver in destructive ways--to pry out staples (while leaving ugly scratch marks on the wood, surely), or to make a clumsy starter hole rather than going back to my tool chest to get my awl. But some part of me knows that I'm not using the tool the way it was intended, and it ends up being destructive when I use it for prying and scraping and the rest.

The same is true about our words, of course.  We are not used to talking about it this way, perhaps, but there are things words are meant for... and then there are ways we use words in a pinch (or when we are frustrated) that end up leaving scratch marks on other people.  We tend not to think about what words, what language and communication themselves, are for, though, because our culture tends to focus more on insisting that we all have the right to say anything we like.  Well, okay, sure--and you have the "right," if you want to call it that, to use a screwdriver as a chisel... or a crowbar... or a pick, but you do so at the risk of hurting yourself, the project you are working on, or the screwdriver itself.  When it comes to using tools, the whole language of "rights" (as in, "I have the right to use this screwdriver to dig holes in the garden and then scrape the rough spots on this board down, because it's my screwdriver and nobody can tell me otherwise!") becomes a bit silly.  Sure... you could do any of those things with a screwdriver, but it seems a foolish idea in the end, and ripe for unintentional destruction.

Sure, just the same, you can use words just to make an angry point.  Sure, you can just rip into somebody else.  Sure, you can spew all sorts of rot on Facebook and think you are defending your "right" to say it, regardless of (or oblivious to) how really hateful you are sounding at the moment. Sure, you can forward, or like, or pass along whatever rants from other people you might choose, and never give a thought for how others who hear or read what you give your thumbs-up will be affected... but that seems a bit to me like it misses the point of what words are for.  At least to hear the book of Ephesians tell it, the point of language for the followers of Jesus is to build each other up, and to give grace to others.  That's it. 

That doesn't mean that Christians are supposed to lie, or sugarcoat things, or never say anything that might be offensive to someone else.  Not at all.  We are called to be people who tell the truth, and who live the truth, and that's an all-the-time proposition.  And sometimes you have to tear down the old building before you can build a new one--so sometimes we will have to say things that make others squirm.  But there difference is all in intention--if I am tearing down the old, dangerous building in order to build something sturdy and good, that's much different than just wrecking something for the sake of wrecking it.  We are to be truth tellers, but we don't get to use "truth telling" as an excuse to be jerks.  And more to the point, while it is true that sometimes the truth that needs telling can be offensive to people, the converse is not always accurate--just because something offends others doesn't make it  a case of "telling it like it is."  Don't be fooled into confusing being a jackass with being prophetic. 

Today's verse from Ephesians mean that my words are not really just a matter of my right to say whatever I want to say.  My words, in a sense, belong to everyone else around me. And if they are not being used in a way that builds other people up, or diagnoses a problem in order to help cure what is wrong, or heals what is broken, then the writer of Ephesians says that I am misusing what words are really for. 

Think about how that would dramatically change what we say, what we share on social media, how we speak, and how we think before we speak.  If, instead of just starting my train of thought with, "I can say whatever I want to say, and if someone else is offended by it, they must be the problem, and be too sensitive," I thought, "What words would be helpful in this situation, and what words might provoke someone who doesn't need to be provoked?", well, think about how that would change our conversations.  I suspect we would be a lot less smug, a lot less judgmental, and we would be a lot less combative with other people.  We would also maybe, just maybe, come to see that just yelling angry words is not the same as "telling it like it is."

To be people of grace is to recognize that words are for something--they are meant to be instruments of building up, even though they can be used in other, destructive ways, just like a screwdriver can be used as a crowbar (but at your own risk).  The more we can leave behind the old, "I have the right to say whatever I want, no matter who it upsets!" thinking and instead be trained to think, "What words would build up and improve this situation?", the more our lives will be brought under the influence of love.

Today, what if our internal self-conversation began with, "Is what I am about to say going to be helpful, or is it more about me venting or being a jerk?", and what if we seriously paused before we spoke, or wrote, or clicked "like," or forwarded along something to consider how our words will affect those around us?  How could we be a part of grace in our gracious words today?

Lord God, as the old hymn puts it, speak to us that we may speak, and make our voices to be as grace-filled as Jesus'.