words

 Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ Λόγος, καὶ ὁ Λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν Θεόν, καὶ Θεὸς ἦν ὁ Λόγος.

A long, long time ago, in a college far, far way, these were the first words we read in Greek 101.  It was most appropriate, since most of the folks in the class were those who had self-identified as having an interest in ministry.  For those who have not taken Greek, it is John 1:1: 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."  (And after all these years, it is probably all the Greek I remember!)

Words are important.  They are the basic building blocks in relationships - how we communicate with others, How we share our ideas, our hearts, our fears, our hopes.  They are how we learn about, well, just about everything.  As both a pastor and a writer, words are my stock in trade.  I use them to share with others what I see God doing in the world; where Jesus is hoping we will share the gospel of love, grace, hope, and peace; how the Spirit is gifting us to be God's people in a world which hungers for truth, for compassion, for civility.

Words are precious.  I still remember my mother tracing her finger under the sentences in books, as she introduced me to the wonder of how words can transport us to places beyond imagination, can introduce to people who lives transform ours, and can challenge us to go deeper than we ever dare into the possibilities open before us.  There are still sentences and paragraphs from books that spring to mind and bring me hope, healing, grace when I most need them.  There are verses of scripture that are carved into my soul, just waiting to cradle me when I am most afraid.

But now, now words have become weapons.  Weapons of mass destruction.  They are used to disparage whole communities, and nations.  Rather than building others up, words become bullies to knock people off their feet, their hopes, their lives.  Words no longer mold the dreams of strangers, they are used to mock those who are different.  Words are not used to voice compassion for the most vulnerable among us, but are spoken in such a way as to let them know they have absolutely no value to the speakers.

And because words have become weaponized, we who know better, think we are justified to use words in the same way, to attack those with whom we disagree; to seek to knock them off their pedestals; to bully them, to denigrate them, to let them know they have absolutely no value to us.  

Fred Rogers once said that when two people meet, they are standing on holy ground.  If this is true, and I believe it is, then surely the words they speak, surely the words we speak, are to be holy as well.  But we have lost that sense of holiness in the words we think, we use, we speak.  They have become hurtful, shaming, destructive, life-damaging.

The Word was not just with God, was not just God, but became flesh, living among us.  Holiness came and spoke of feeding the hunger of folks, the hunger in their bellies as well as their souls.  Holiness came and told us stories of people who cared for the brokenness of their enemies, as much as they would for their own family.  Holiness walked among us and modeled how we are to listen to the voiceless, to raise up the ones knocked down by fear, to gather those tossed into the ditches of despair, to see each person as the Beloved of God.  Holiness traveled the dusty ways of hurt and humiliation, death and grief, and spoke of a way to respond with wonder, with grace, with love.

The Word came, and gave us the words which can bring healing to division, which can transform fear into hope, which can unloosen the grip of hate on our hearts, which can share peace with every single person around us.

Not words of anger, but holy words of affirmation;
not words of judgment, but holy words of justice;
not words of hurt, but holy words of hope;
not words filled with grudge, but holy words overflowing with grace;
not words of ridicule, but holy words of wonder;
not words that destroy, but holy words of life.

Maybe it's time we relearn those words and become speakers of holiness.

(c) 2019 Thom M. Shuman