About twenty minutes is all it takes. I've seen it. A typical ranch-style home is reduced to a pile of rubble in about twenty minutes. I'm guessing it took at least three or four months to build. And it served as a home for a family for several decades. The only scar now is a dirt lot.
Our church building is situated next to a collection of lots purchased by a major drugstore chain. They are in the process of clearing the land to build. It has been amazing to watch these powerful man-made machines decimate houses, pull over massive oak trees, and remove home-size chunks of earth with so little effort. The power of these steel beasts is awe-inspiring. Tagging them "Caterpillar" seems bizarre. They are certainly not the tiny, fuzzy, docile, silent creatures of the forest that I have watched inch across my finger.
In the New Testament, James presents a similar irony. He compares the hidden organ of taste and speech - the tongue - to a destructive fire and deadly poison. It is so soft, so sensitive, so limited in its power. . . isn't it?
With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing.
James 3:9-10a
About five seconds is all it takes. I've seen it. I've done it. A typical human is reduced to bitterness, or shame, or grief in about five seconds by a tongue run amok. Words ignited by some inner struggle blaze forth and singe innocent ears. The scar may not be visible. It is on the soul. And it never quite goes away.
I have seen the spirit of someone wither by the oppressive heat of scorching speech. Words, sharpened to a keen edge, slice into the heart. You can almost see life's essence flow forth from the wound. The victim is drained of dignity. They are left standing in a pool of shame. The verbal criminal wipes his feet with disgust and prowls away, looking for another potential casualty.
The wound heals in time, but restoring the dignity is like trying to return toothpaste to its tube.
The steel beasts at the work site are in transition. They are no longer destroying. They are manicuring the ground in anticipation of a new structure. They are becoming constructive. The two-faced machines are becoming redemptive in their work.
James tells us that the tongue has the power to curse and bless. The first comes more naturally than the second. Destroying things is so much more instinctual and fun. As a male I can attest to this. My movies can't have too many explosions and car chases. I am still fascinated by fire, breaking glass, and. . . well. . . those earth-shaking Caterpillars next door.
But I am becoming more fascinated with creating. Creating hope. Creating joy. Creating love. Creating grace. With God's help, of course. James closes the third chapter of his letter with an essential insight into steering the tongue toward the path of blessing. It only happens by the wisdom that comes from God.
the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.
James 3:17
Remember, caterpillars can still turn into butterflies, reminding us that the earth-bound can soar into the heavens when transforming power reigns.
1 comment:
That is a pretty interesting set of observations Dave.
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