WORDS
"There
is no character, howsoever good and fine, that it can be destroyed by ridicule,
howsoever poor and witless. Observe the ass, for instance; his character is
about perfect, he is the choicest spirit among all the humbler animals, yet see
what ridicule has brought him to. Instead of feeling complimented when we are
called an ass, we are left in doubt."
--Mark Twain, Pudd’n’head
I don’t really remember my earliest writing attempts. I have a vague
recollection of a story about giant mosquitoes, but what I said and when I
wrote it are lost forever, which is probably just as well. The earliest
material that I saved is a 1964 poem on the assassination of John F. Kennedy,
so I know I’ve been creating for at least that long. Some of my writing has
been very good, some has been very bad, and a lot has been pretty much average.
I’ve learned a lot about writing in that time, and I continue to learn more all
the time. And one of the things I’ve learned is the power of words.
I think we all recognize, at least partially, the power that words
have. Parents admonish, "If you can’t say something nice, don’t say
anything at all." We’re told that it takes something like five compliments
to cancel out one insult. And anyone who’s lived more than two or three years
has experienced pain or pleasure from the words of friends and families. Yet I
sometimes wonder just how aware we are of the real power of the spoken
word.
I don’t believe in or support the idea that words themselves have
some mystical, spiritual, or magical powers in and of themselves.
"Abracadabra" is a meaningless jumble of syllables;
"Alleluia" is just another sound. Yet the spoken word has a power
that’s recognized by even the simplest cultures. Some religions even believe
that one can kill just by saying, "die!" to someone else, or that
knowing a person’s "true" name will give control over that person.
And these beliefs sometimes do work!
It would be easy to dismiss the "magical" use of words as
demonic, and, to a great extent, it is. But there is something that goes beyond
that easy dismissal. Even the ancient Hebrews, the
servants of the true God, were aware that something lay behind the
sounds. For example, they took great care in naming their children, choosing
names that had some significance. God acknowledges that power when He changes
names - from "Abram" ("exalted father") to
"Abraham" ("father of many"); from "Jacob"
("he takes by the heel" or "he supplants") to
"Israel" ("he who strives with God"); from
"Simon" ("hear" or "snub-nosed") to
"Peter" ("rock"). And those who were given special names
often grew to fulfill the promise of those names, for good or ill - before he
became Israel, Jacob was a devious young man, constantly taking what should
have been Esau’s; after snub-nosed Simon became Peter, he became the
cornerstone around which the early church was built.
Ame and I considered carefully the meanings of our children’s names
when we chose them. "Gareth" is Welsh for "gentle";
"Cheris" is a combination of the French "
Jesus tells us that whatever good or evil is spoken comes from a
person’s heart (Luke 6:43-45; Matthew 15:18-20; etc.). Here is where the power
behind the words resides - not in some magical incantation, but in the spirit
and the mind of the person uttering those words. I don’t believe there are such
things as "idle" words. A person may use them carelessly, but the
power behind the words is always working, in the person who utters them and in
the person who receives them.
Carefully chosen words can be dynamic sources of comfort, support,
and encouragement, or they can be vehicles of devastation. I won’t say anything
about those who deliberately choose to wound with their words - they’ve made
their choice, and if they have to pay for it, at least they knew what they were
getting into. It’s the careless words that bother me, the words spoken in haste
or in thoughtlessness, the words used out of habit or just because everybody
else is using them - words and phrases that were, at one time, recognized for
what lay behind them, but are now repeated with little thought for the power
that still lurks there. A lot of these words were originally sexually oriented,
or they referred to vulgar or disgusting objects or habits, and when they were
used out of their original context with intent to shock, it was with the full
recognition of the power behind them. The listener knew - emotionally and
intellectually - just how disgusted the speaker was and how much contempt he or
she had for the object of that speech. Now these words are tossed loosely
about. They are used on T-shirts and television sit-coms and in advertising and
by children barely old enough to speak in complete sentences, simply because
it’s become "cool". Their constant use has dulled the ear to their
power, but that power hasn’t been lessened. The contempt is still there, and
while our conscious minds may not notice it, our subconscious minds and our
hearts and spirits recognize and react to it, shifting our perceptions,
encouraging us to judge and condemn.
When we allow the power resident in an "idle" word to exert
a little bit of control over us, it changes us. That change may be
imperceptible, but it’s there. By itself, it may do little or nothing, but all
those tiny influences add up. One grain of sand is easily overlooked; an accumulation
of sand can become a desert. That’s why James warns us to have strict control
over our tongues (James
I’ve noticed that I have to struggle the first time I say something
harsh, coarse, indecent, or in any other way offensive. It usually doesn’t
matter how often I’ve thought such things, putting them into spoken - or
even written - words is extremely difficult. The second time is still a
struggle, and maybe even the third or fourth time. But if I continue to use
those words, they come more easily, until not using them becomes the
struggle. Meanwhile, a little bit of my purity has slipped as well, for the
more I use those words and the easier their use becomes, the more I embrace the
power behind them. I become accustomed not only to the words, but also to what
they represent. As the words become less shocking to me, so do the concepts.
And when I become comfortable with the concepts, I become anesthetized to sin.
No wonder Paul commanded the Ephesians not to even mention certain kinds
of impurity among themselves (Ephesians 5:3, 4 RSV). He knew the power of
words!
Christians are being scrutinized more closely than ever. We claim to
offer a way of life that’s different, and the world wants to know if we’re
living up to our own hype. They’ve seen too many phony Christians and
Christians who’ve gone down in flames. So when our words are the words of the
rest of the world - when we carelessly damn, calling on God to back us up; when
we sprinkle our speech with coarseness and vulgarity with no apparent thought
to what we’re really saying; when we embrace the language of the world with a
wink and an elbow in the ribs - how can we say we’re any different than they
are? What do we have to offer that they can’t get at any "church" or
social group? What makes us so special?
I’m not saying we can never use strong language. Jesus condemned the
Pharisees with harsh words (Matthew 23; the word "fool" that He uses
in verse 17 is the very word that He warns against in Matthew 5:22). Paul could
speak coarsely when he wanted to make a point (Philippians 3:8; the word
translated "rubbish" at the end of the verse in the New International
Version or "refuse" in the Revised Standard Version is literally
"dung"), as could Elijah (I Kings 18:27; the term translated
"busy" in the NIV or "gone aside" in the RSV could also be
translated "relieving himself"). And if you want to see the proper and
impressive use of strong, frank sexual imagery, read the Song of Solomon!
Yes, there’s a place for strong language. I’ve used it in my writing,
and I’ll continue to do so. But I’ve learned that that place should be guarded
carefully. Recognize and respect the power of words!