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It doesn’t seem probable that a word can hold power; words are fleeting and mostly unremarkable. Life and death in a word? Really?
I have three teenage sons who work out. I see them in the garage pumping iron each morning. They are visibly getting stronger and like to walk around shirtless to prove it. The cause and effect of my boys lifting weights are visible. All the work they put into getting stronger is seen on the outside. I see them working out, and I see them getting more muscular. Their power and strength make sense. The results of their effort are evident.
When I read about a weak part of the body, such as the tongue, and ponder its power, it is easy to believe I understand the gravity of it. Yes, I know the tongue is powerful like I know I would like you to pass the gravy, and also, did you know we are getting rain later in the week?
I fear much of my understanding of the Christian life is a surface understanding. It is as much a part of my life as the Antique White paint color the previous owner of our home chose for the walls in our house. I’m surrounded by it every day and never think anything of it. It is an unremarkable part of my days. Yes, I know my walls are painted Antique White, and I know my tongue is powerful, and does anyone want to meet for Mexican tomorrow at noon?
It seems unlikely that the tongue, something near invisible and mostly hidden, can hold power to create life or destroy to death. I have birthed four babies, and the entire process was a hefty load (no pun intended). But a word being able to birth something new? I need to spend time mulling over that one.
Can I be birthing newness right now with just a word? Some of my words are audible to human ears, but most are spoken silently in the quiet of my thought life. I speak a narrative over my days all day, from sunup to sundown. Often, I’m not even conscious of what I am telling myself. A quiet loop plays non-stop, and I barely notice what it is saying. If it is it true that what I am telling myself could be birthing newness in me, it is also true that what I am telling myself could be killing me.
“God, surely you desire truth in the inmost parts,” the Psalmist declares in Psalm 51, “You teach me wisdom in the inmost place.” “Save me,” he continues, “and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise.”
We join with the Psalmist and with the prayer of a Puritan from the 1600’s and ask you, Lord…
“Let the old things pass away, let all things become new. You who brought this world out of nothing with a word, can with a word work in me this new creation. Do not let me perish. Say the word, and it will be done. Just say the word, and this soul–now a dark, woeful chaos and a lump of corruption and confusion–will become a new creature.” -David Clarkson, Puritan from the 1600’s
(For further reading and prayer, see Psalm 51.)
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