But no one can tame the tongue; it is a restless evil and full of deadly poison. — James 3:8 (NASB)
As a writer, I make my living with words. I know how they can be used. They can comfort and uplift. They can praise and glorify God. They also can be knives against a whetstone.
In hand—
I hurt. I wound. Slid between ribs, a twist. I am not kind. I intend to cause harm, and I do. I do.
The knife falls, clatters on cold cement. I can’t believe what I’ve done. I back away, hands up.
Blood on the floor. Blood on my hands. Blood…
I don’t know how to wash them clean. I don’t know how to wash them clean.
I can’t.
I apologize, confess my sin. Beg forgiveness from God and the one I hurt. Repentance.*
*This cycle never ends. I encounter the same tension Paul describes in Romans 7. I have every intention of using my words for good, but the words that come from my hands and mouth are not always those. I join with Paul in crying, “Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
Image: Neal Fowler