Something I have found to be entirely enthralling, in my humble opinion, is the command by which we as humans can be utterly captivated by language, for it has this strange and peculiar ability to mend and build us up…but it can also separate and tear us down if we are not mindful.
The person who designed the old adage, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” has obviously never been screamed at with contempt and condemned as worthless. Find a cliché verbal abuser and they’ll demonstrate the full bone-shattering power the tongue possesses. That’s not to say that every attack makes us weak, for how often do we shrug off the criticism of a stranger? But how much more do the warring words of a friend splice the skin? What of someone we admire? What of someone we despise? Does it not take longer – if ever – to heal? Thus, depending upon their proximity to us, they have an increased potential to damage us beyond what we would ever naturally accept. (Hint: There is healing. Carry on reading.)
The idea for this blog came from a recent message that I wanted to take the time to digest and mull on. The title of the message delivered by my Pastor in a mini-series was, “The language of Judah.” The crucible of the message was read from Nehemiah 13:23-24 where it states that the descendants of the tribe of Judah “did not know how to speak the language of Judah” because they had married into other tribes and so forgot the language of their ancestors. Yehuda in Hebrew, I’m told, means “praise.” So, in essence, the descendents had forgotten how to use their tongues to praise God and so they forgot the works done before them to establish them where they had come to.
Throughout the Bible, in both the Old and New Testament, there are innumerable stories that drive this point home, and I could very well read and discuss volumes on this subject alone. I won’t lead you down ad nauseam, but I will give a few examples of what I’ve learned. In Proverbs 18:21, Solomon acknowledges that “death and life are in the power of the tongue.” And in Deuteronomy 30:19 it says, “I have set life and death before you…now, choose life.” And in James 3, we learn how challenging it is to tame the tongue and how we cannot subjugate it with our own will.
So, what does this have to do with “minding the gap,” as my title suggests? I loved riding the Tube in London when I was there several years ago, and the common phrase upon disembarking is, as you guessed, “mind the gap,” meaning “watch where you put your feet.” You’ve almost got to be intentional about where you step forward as well as where not to step when moving forward. It doesn’t seem too challenging, does it? I mean, come on now. It’s just a tiny step. We’ve learned from an early age how to crawl, then walk, and then run. Thus, by the time we are to “mind the gap” we have been fully prepared.
My allegory, argument, and encouragement is that we should be the same with how we use our words. A way to grow in our language is to mind what we are fed, as well as increasing the intentional movement of our feet. I am practicing it myself, and it is not easy by any means. I keep close to me the idea that the journey in the Tube is how I eventually arrived at Trafalgar Square: the “journey matters as much as the destination” idea. Let us not forget the works done before us to establish us where we have come to, let us remember how to give praise, and let us be mindful of the tongue we use to take that next step forward; that we would choose to encourage one another and build each other up even when it would proximally feel far more easier not to. It does require a bit more of a lunge.
If not, we would certainly just get our foot stuck in the gap.
