Christian, Our Words Matter - Chris Tibbetts

  

I’m not a very gracious driver. In fact, I’m not sure that I’m even a sorta nice driver. The truth is, I’m kind of a jerk when I’m driving. If you're cruising in the left lane keeping it a couple clicks under the speed limit practicing to pass people, I’m probably frustrated with you. If the light turns green and you’re not off the line within a few seconds, you may get the courtesy “toot-toot,” or you may get a slightly more aggressive singular “toot.” Either way, I confess that you’ve earned my disdain. And, I don’t limit my frustration to drivers only. Interstate 4, the heartbeat of central Florida connecting Tampa to Orlando to Daytona Beach is only 3 lanes! There are myriad other roads in central Florida that — by observation — merely connect one cow pasture to another, that are 3 lanes. Predictably, then, I-4 is congested all day long, because 3 lanes is obviously not enough to bring the world to Disney. The FDOT, lawmakers, entire electorates and whoever else I happen to think of while I’m stuck in traffic, can make me downright indignant.

Fortunately, most people don’t know that I’m disgusted with them when I’m driving and the Spirit is noticeably sanctifying me in this regard. Unfortunately, my selfishness and pomposity continue to eat at my heart. But every so often, as my ire begins to rise, my right ear picks up the dulcet tones of my wife, reminding me that I have no idea what may be going through those other driver’s minds. I have no idea the news they may have just learned, the diagnosis they may have just been given. I have no idea whether they know Jesus or not. And by God’s grace, as is so often the case, I am anchored back to reality. The reality that I am not the center of the universe. The reality that the triune God is. The reality that I have been called to proclaim the excellencies of him who called me out of darkness into his marvelous light. I’m not a very gracious driver, but I have a very gracious Savior, who has called me to a very gracious task.

Unfortunately, the disdain, the self-righteous condescension, the haughty pride that fills my vehicle, is not limited to my vehicle at all. It is abundant in the world about us. It is abundant on social media forums. It is abundant in the church. Because it is abundant in our hearts.

The sharp-tongued critique for a vulnerable pastor on the front steps of the church immediately after he’s poured himself out in preaching. His heart still exposed for you, before the balm of time has stitched him back up. The prioritization of co-mingled loves — political parties and figureheads, traditional American ideals — over, above, and often to the detriment of, the proclamation of Christ. The casual indifference with which we demean those we do not know. Those we perceive to have wronged us in some way at the grocery store, while serving us a meal at a restaurant, or while driving along beside us on an interstate.

Christian, we should not speak as others speak. We should speak as those who have been called by grace through faith, not of our own doing, but as a gift of God. Lest we become boastful. Lest we become expert at navigating the logs in our eyes, to tenaciously expose the troublesome specks that can seem ubiquitous all around us. We must know that our words matter. Even if we cannot comprehend the terminal ripple of their effect. The tongue is a small member indeed, but how great a forest can be set ablaze by so small a fire. Christian, the tongue with which you offer blessing to God should not curse those made in his likeness. Our words matter.

We know by observation that grace is a peculiarity in our culture. Roughly twenty-five years ago, under the pressure of an increasingly available, increasingly deliverable, and an increasingly conventional internet, social media and virtual forums began to permeate from the technophile in the basement to the non-technophilic plurality of the developed world. The commoner was generally thrilled with the novelty of it all at first, whether they confessed that thrill to their “real life” friends or not. As time went on, however, those virtual conversations, those social media networks began to rapidly devolve into destructive pseudo-realities. They became a place where you could speak your mind. A place where you could feed off of the affirmation of others, and a place where you could casually dispense vitriol with little concern for recompense. It fostered a positive feedback loop of a very negative truth — grace is a peculiarity in our culture.

Undoubtedly, we are a people who are pining to be heard, pining to pierce the din of frenzy in the world, pining to have real conversations. Indeed, it’s one of the rich blessings of the church family. There is no need for artifice or hyperbole, your brother and sister in Christ love you. Your successes, your losses, your ideas, and your concerns, all of them matter over a cup of coffee with a fellow believer. It’s also one of the rich blessings of prayer. Your heavenly Father loves you. He listens to you. This is so because you matter. The you that’s inside. The you that possibly only a few people get to see in the course of a lifetime. The you that your heavenly Father gets to behold in fullness day by day. You matter because you are fearfully and wonderfully made and you bear the image of God. You matter because of his amazing grace. This, therefore, should be an encouragement to you. This, therefore, should be a charge to you. This, therefore, should be the Reveille beckoning you to proclaim Christ into a world that needs his grace.

Christian, we should not speak as others speak. To one another. To the world around us. We should speak as those who have been redeemed through the covenant of grace. We should speak as those who ruthlessly prioritize the gracious task to which we’ve been called. Christian, our words matter.