"Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body." You'll find those words in Proverbs 16:24.
I just read through Proverbs where you'll find constant reminders of the power of the tongue, how the words we say hold the power of life and death. Big stuff. And we're supposed to be sweet with our words.
I heard somewhere that when Jewish boys are in Hebrew school the rabbis give them honey to eat and tell them that God's Word is sweeter than honey… and then they memorize it all. But really, what could be sweeter than God's Word? What other book has such raw healing power to shake one's soul and fill it up?
So that's my goal. I want to be sweet to the soul. I want my words to be chosen and wise, not frivolous and empty.
In Granada, I searched out the opportunity to be sweet. On our street, which we passed through everyday, was an elderly woman who sat on her step. I waved at her, greeted her with a common phrase and smiled. She held her hand out mentioning words that I could understand meant something about eating. It's a typical conversation we have with the locals. They see our whiter, brighter skin and perhaps they see money in our pockets at the same time.
But this woman compelled me to do more than just wave. So the next day I placed my hand on her cheek and stroked her face. We could barely understand each other but I just wanted to make an extra effort. And then she kind of haunted my thoughts. I wanted to do something for her but I didn't want to perpetuate the idea that all white people have money to give to every person with a hand out.
So I tossed around some ideas and then on a trip to one of our favourite cafes, the answer stared me in the face.
Honey wafers.
A sweet cookie filled with honey originating from the Netherlands (I think?) that somehow found its way into a small shop in the historic city of Granada. Honey. I wanted to be honey to this woman. So I kept those wafers in my bag the entire day but for some reason, she was nowhere to be found. It was the oddest thing. And then it hit me.
Gracious words are sweetness to the soul.
I was forgetting all about this woman's soul, the deepest most needy part of her. So I had a note translated for her, telling her that Jesus was a spring of living water and daily bread, that he loved her and that I hoped the words would be honey. Sweet honey running down her throat and into her soul.
With note and cookies in hand I walked out on the street to see her skinny little legs and I approached her with great joy, happy in the pit of my stomach to be sharing thismoment with this woman. She called me her friend and daughter and that moment was honey.
