| I grew up spending pretty much of my winters in Philadelphia, PA, and summers, in Columbia, South Carolina where most of my mother's siblings lived. Every Saturday, my eldest aunt packed us all up in Uncle Shake's car, and off to Blair, South Carolina we'd go. Although annoyned with our parents, we children would sit bunched up on the back seat sometimes suffering with heat exhaustion. Nonetheless, we kept our opinions, held our tongues, and endured the ride.
Blair unfortunately wasn't your average fun loving, adventurous place to visit. In late evening, we'd start our long journey back to Columbia. It seemed we'd travel forever on the dark one-way road with no highway lights. At night, the still eerie quiet inside Uncle Shake's car would keep us children fearful of what could be lurking outside.
"Please Lord don't let the car breakdown." I secretly prayed. Of course, our lives were completely in his hands who's driving soon helped me to understand why they called him "Shake." But, no matter what, ritually, we'd head off to the place our parents called home to visit with old friends and relatives.
Yet, in all my exclusive opinions about Blair, there was something unique about the inhabitants of that small little county. Most of them used what others would consider an unfamiliar dialect. Sort of "ole' southern sayings" with a little twist of what's known today as Ebonics. Still, they understood one another. Before long, some where during our many visits even I became more attuned to this unusual vernacular. So much so, there were times you could actually understand those things children weren't suppose to hear.
On one of our visits, after a heated discussion between my aunt and her son, I foolishly without thinking, made a brash decision to question her sarcastic implications she used during their discussion. Now if you know anything about African-American families, you never question your parents, older siblings, or the elders. Not unless you've either lost your mind, or, for some reason had a sudden urge to leave this world before time. But, if you planned on living to see Jesus return, you "just kept your mouth shut."
As I slowly came back to my senses and realized what I'd said, I began to move away from her arms reach. It did me no good. I believe God created within them some sort of tracking devise that found you no matter where you hid.
Nevertheless, while appeasing my painful bottom after being located, what I discovered was although Blair had its own distinct dialect it couldn't cover up the hurtful words spoken from ones true heart. They still could be distinguished from those of compassion expressed from the smallest member of our human body, the unrestrained tongue.
Just before relocating to Atlanta, a business partner and I dined one evening at a very lavish restaurant located in the beautiful downtown area of Philadelphia. Other than our seating tables being to close together, the atmosphere itself made up for our discomfort. Right away, I couldn't help but notice this very well-dressed, seemed to be intelligent young couple sitting at a table across from ours. His eyes were full of adornment for her, and she very poised ever so often displayed a subtle shyness which I thought to be quit adorable.
Later on in the evening after ordering their dessert and coffee, they entwined into a more serious conversation. From what I could overhear, the young woman had become annoyed with a previous male friend of hers. For at least twenty minutes, she spoke of the man's flaws and in between time related them to her date who we later found out to be the "new" fiancée.
Without paying any attention to her words she'd chosen to use, she simply kept repeating, "Well, he reminds me of you, uncaring." Wrapped up in her verbal escapades, she never noticed that his facial expression changed at least several times. Through his demeanor you could tell his self-esteem sunk lower and lower as she continued the phrase. He went from sitting with assurance to a sudden lack of confidence. Before long, his self-respect laid injured across their table.
As I sat there trying hard not to be so obvious, his painful affliction began to bounce from him to me. I could feel her bruising words piercing through his heart. However observing closer, I noticed what she said didn't seem to be strange to him. So, in my own mind I concluded he'd heard those true hearted opinions before. Nonetheless, you could see her words ran deep within.
Each time the wounded young man glanced over at our table, embarrassed, I quickly turned away, but it's hard to ignore a rescue when God is drawing your attention to it. Before long, an urgency to pray for them both began to cultivate within me. I heard myself quietly say, "Father, heal they're wounded hearts." My business partner and I had no clue as to why the young woman used the dialect she did, but visible evidence showed they'd both suffered with deteriorations in their wounded hearts.
Finally, the young man sat back in his chair, exhaled, then reached for her hand. Holding it ever so gently, clearing his throat he said, "Why do you compare me to him. I'll never hurt you?" "I love you too much." As though in regret, she bowed her head. Shortly after, the young woman glanced back up again at her fiancée with tear filled eyes. It seems she'd allowed the wounds from her previous relationship to hold her heart in captivity.
It's a known factor that wounded people can wound. "For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, Luke 6:45." Most times when we've been hurt we automatically want to hurt someone else. Then justify it with a cause. The struggling uncompassionate desire to see others hurt in agony brings a false sense of retribution which leaves behind a long trail of innocent victims.
Whoever came up with the old saying, "sticks and stones will never hurt" were wrong. Unhealed wounds are like lava. They harden in the cavity walls of our hearts causing one to lose the joy of even wanting to live (Job 3:3). Once they're spoken, our suppressed fluent issues hurt others no matter what language they're spoken in.
The book of James (chapter three) talks about the tongue and its evilness. How our speech springs from the inward character. In order for the tongue to be tamed, we must allow the Holy Spirit to cleanse our hearts.
Consider this factor, Christ was severely criticized, and bitterly resented. Many even showed their hatred for Him openly, but He remained faultless. Have we stopped before a heated conversation begins to ask, "What should my reaction be?" Most of us don't, but Christ never responded out of His wounds, not even on the cross.
Part of my daily prayer is, "Father, set a watch before my mouth and keep the doors of my lips…" I, like the Apostle James knows the tongue is hard to control on our own. It's easy for one to say "just turn the other cheek" until the slap actually happens. Most often a reaction to an action will take place.
How many people are we really controlled by? If we react the way others act, then we're controlled by them. We must draw strength from Christ that our reactions can be changed through Him alone. Philippians 4:13, says, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me."
No matter what nationality we come from, or native tongue we've learned, let's practice daily to consider it's the "soft answer which turns away wrath" (Proverbs 15:1). Christ can strengthen us to have the right reactions to whatever we face. And, if we confess those negative ones-He's faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness (I. John 1:9). Then, "Let's Just, Shut Our Mouths!"
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