I have always been an incredibly vocal child.
My first word was “duck” (or more accurately, duckduckduckDUCKDUCKduckduck!) and within a few months I was wowing people at my mom’s bible study by correctly using the word “tabernacle” in a sentence. I have a God-given gift when it comes to words. I can write poems, songs, haunting lyrics and uplifting messages. I can write fact and I can write fiction, and when I write, a lot of people listen. I am not saying this to brag, by any means, because this innate sense of what to say is directly from something outside of me, and to give credit to anything but Him would be blasphemy. I do know, however, that I have this talent, and I don’t use it enough.
I also don’t always use it constructively.
I have been full of words lately. I’ve been leaning on others words and blasting music that quells the feeling in my soul. I’ve been reading words from brilliant authors (devoured about 15 books during my first month of treatment) and I have been ravaging my own heart by reading the word-vomit that seems to fill places like Facebook and Tumblr. I’ve done quite a bit of wording myself, because in therapy and treatment, there is a LOT of talking. I have used words to gossip and to gather and spread information, and that was very damaging. I have used words to express my fears and my feelings, and that has been very helpful. I haven’t been using my words to communicate with the Creator from Whom all these words come, though, and that is destroying me.
Right now, I have a lot of words in my heart and my mind about Ferguson. I have tried to hold them in, because Lord knows all we need right now is another white girl with a blog spouting her white apologies and anguish. I also know that my words on this subject differ greatly from the words of many people I love, and to use my words might damage relationships.
In the words of Hawk Nelson, “words can build you up, words can bring you down; start a fire in your heart or put it out”. Words are so unbelievably powerful. I can hear the lyrics in a song and sob my heart out, because I FEEL those words. I can turn on another song and be filled with rage, joy, or the desire to do something crazy. I can be ignited by words of hate and encouraged by words of love. Words of peace give me hope, and words of anger instill in me a great fear.
But what about MY words?
People read what I write. Maybe not on a global scale, but they reach much farther than my little circle of family and friends. And even if my words only fell on those who knew me quite personally, they would still hold a significant power and impact. And I forget that, so, so often.
Do my words build people up, or bring them down? Do they start a fire in a heart, or put it out?
Do my words speak life? Do my words speak truth? Because I don’t want to say a word unless it brings the world back to Him. Lately I have failed so desperately in that aspect, and it aches. I have so much power, and such a vocabulary. My words have so much potential.
Let the things I say be the sound of His grace.
I don’t want to say a word unless it brings the world back to Him.
Please, call me out on this.