In 2 Cor 12:7-10, the apostle Paul speaks of his famous, enigmatic “thorn in the flesh”. We do not know the exact condition, but it was debilitating to the point where “torment” was an appropriate description.
However, the passage also makes clear it came from God, to teach Paul critical gospel truths in the most directly experiential way: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness”.
In God’s sovereign kindness, even our frailties enable us to grow in our grasp of his ways and goodness to us. And it is often the absence or withdrawal of God’s gifts that best help us appreciate what we might otherwise take for granted. As Paul puts it, he was weakened in his flesh “in order to keep me from becoming conceited”.
As a minister and theological lecturer, my voice is my tool of trade. In fact, speaking is a critical ability in all human life and interaction. Those who are unable to speak audibly for any reason, whether temporarily or permanently, are equally valuable and dignified in God’s sight as those who can but can face particular and significant challenges in communication that others can take for granted.
So, it was very unsettling to discover recently that I had developed nodules on my vocal cords. I would have occasional complete loss of voice for several weeks in a row and, in general, my voice was rough, weak and easily strained.
When it became clear I required surgery to remove the nodules, it came with the standard, but terrifying, explanation that one of the risks was permanent damage and loss of voice quality.
In God’s mercy, surgery was successful, and with ongoing therapy, the outlook is very positive. However, the recovery process included not being allowed to speak at all for the first week after surgery, then only minimally for several months after that.
In addition, to prevent me from inadvertent use, I was confined to home for two months. I also had to be retrained in how to speak, from the ground up. Perhaps the lowlight (or highlight for my boys) was the ridiculous vocal exercises I had to perform every hour, on the hour, every day. Psalm 1 condemns “the mockers”; I believe my sons need to take this Scripture more to heart!
When I was asked to write this article, someone suggested that I reflect on what I learned from this unusual period of my life. What did this time of weakness teach me about God’s goodness and power in our voices? I have been dwelling on the book of Proverbs lately, so I thought I’d draw on its vivid and comprehensive teaching on words to help do so.
Our tongues are precious
My first reflection is that our tongues, and the words they produce, are very precious gifts of God.
Proverbs 10:20 says, “The tongue of the righteous is choice silver”. The relational God made us relational beings, in his image. Thus, we are only really whole when we are in community with one another and him, and community requires communication.
In fact, God himself connects to his creation primarily by speaking. Words are natural to his own being, and the main channel by which he gives himself to us and makes himself, and his love and lordship over us, known. That makes words precious indeed!
Not speaking for an extended period certainly left me feeling relationally impoverished. Being unable to partake in conversation around the dinner table, or even tell my family I loved them, was a grief that became immensely frustrating as time went on.
Having to attend social occasions with only smiling and nodding mutely in my communicative arsenal was humiliating and exhausting. Even trying to write, without being able to say the words out loud, was an agonisingly slow and convoluted process.
On the other hand, the kind and caring words of others took on a new depth of pricelessness: texts, emails, drop-ins to keep me up with current events – no matter how trivial – and especially prayers! Words spoken to me made me feel valued, and were unexpectedly precious lifelines, in what was a surprisingly challenging period of isolation.
Speech is usually so intuitive and accessible, we can take for granted just how valuable a gift of God it is. Now I’m returning to normal, having words taken away helped me appreciate what an amazing resource God has granted to us to enrich and encourage the lives of others in him – and also to more deliberately appreciate and treasure whenever others choose to invest their precious words of love and faithfulness into my life.
Our tongues are powerful
Prov 18:21 says, “The tongue has the power of life and death”. It may seem overstated to say that a small muscle waving around our mouths, directing airflow in different directions, can cause life or death, but it is true. Our tongues are incredibly powerful.
The Jewish philosopher Abraham Heschel, reflecting on Prov 18:21, coined the phrase “Words create worlds”.
He explains: “They are sacred. God’s tool for creating the universe, and our tools for bringing holiness or evil into the world. The Holocaust did not begin with the building of crematoria, and Hitler did not come to power with tanks and guns. It all began with uttering evil words, with language and propaganda.”
I experienced an example of this phenomenon while recovering from surgery. To avoid going completely stir crazy at home, one day I worked in a local cafe. With consciousness of my need for silence, my hearing seemed to take on bat-like sonar, and despite my efforts not to eavesdrop, I began to pick out conversations near me. One in particular caught my attention – perhaps because the speaker was not holding back, complaining about their family members to a friend in quite derogatory, expletive-filled terms.
One of their children then arrived at the coffee shop. There was little change in description or tone when they greeted and spoke directly to their child, and the child’s demeanour and interactions were reciprocal. I could not help but imagine sadly the “world” that child inhabited and would inherit as a significant part of their identity, by their parent’s words.
As Heschel points out so eloquently, the immense power of our tongues derives from God. He is the first and ultimate speaker, and his words literally brought our physical world into existence. Thankfully, the power of our tongues is only derivative, and the worlds they create can be overcome, albeit often with great difficulty and much help.
But the point is God is the model and arbiter in our use of words. He created, upholds, and saves the world by his Word. And he always speaks in grace and truth, for our good. Thus, he forms the standard for us to wield the incredibly powerful tool wagging around our mouths.
What we say deeply impacts the lives of those we speak to. As God’s people, we need words full of truth: honest, robust, faithful. We need words full of grace: humble, seeking good, especially for those we find hard to love. We want to create worlds for each other to inhabit that honour God and resonate with his desire to love and save.
Our tongues need prudence
The third reflection, following on from this, is that our tongues need prudence. My vocal issues were diagnosed as occurring through a combination of over-use, stress and poor voice production habits. As I rebuild, I have been directed to be extremely careful in every step of production. I must mentally prepare and shape my throat, start my sound at a particular time in the exhaling airstream, pitch the sound at a precise location in my nasal cavity, and above all, immediately detect and resist straining. That is a lot to deliberate over, on something that is normally automatic. But it is necessary to produce a good sound from my throat.
Using “prudence” as a descriptor of this process is admittedly odd. But that is exactly what it is. The term prudence, to our ears, is either antiquated or negative (being a prude). But its definition is: ‘the quality of being wise in practical affairs; caution, discretion, and regard for one’s own interests; and provident care in the management of resources.’. I am being trained to produce my voice prudently.
But how much more should we seek to be prudent, not so much in manner of voice production, but in our use of words, because we know their preciousness and power. As Prov 16:23 says, “The hearts of the wise make their mouths prudent, and their lips promote instruction”.
We need great care and skill to speak in a manner that pleases God and builds up others. Together with the foundation of an overarching desire to do God-shaped good to others, this requires developing our aptitude in both the clarity and simplicity, as well as subtlety and complexity, of our words.
This doesn’t simply mean our conversation should be over-safe, or boringly conservative. There is a (needed) place for colour, humour, biting wit, outlandishness, even expletives. Prudence is not the same as prudishness!
Returning to the overheard conversation in the café, an endearing characteristic of our Aussie speech is the way we use insults in terms of affection. This is certainly an occasional, light-hearted feature in my family, and I would argue our relationships are richer, stronger, humbler and happier because of it.
But we must be aware of the fine line we walk in adopting this mode of conversation. It becomes far easier and more accessible to spill over into truly hurtful and derogatory naming when relationships sour, if our pattern of speech already naturally includes insulting each other.
Alluding to James 3’s teaching on the tongue, there’s already plenty of petrol there in the tank if a sinful fire is sparked. Thus, our tongues need careful training in prudence, and intentional fine tuning in conversation. We see an indication of this in the famous paradox pair of Prov 26:4-5:
Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you yourself will be just like him.
Answer a fool according to his folly, or he will be wise in his own eyes.
The arrangement of these seeming contradictory proverbs is neither random nor clumsy. Instead, it alerts us to the need for fine control in verbal navigation between the twin dangers of descending to the level of the fool on one side, and leaving him in his folly on the other, neither of which are of service to either party in the conversation.
Sometimes it will involve answering in order to head off foolishness. Sometimes it will mean holding your tongue in order to maintain your integrity and not fuel the fire.
When, how, how much to say, how to say it, will depend on the particular situation and the particular fool you are addressing. The amazing thing about our tongues is that they can traverse incredibly difficult and complex terrain to lead to a God-honouring outcome. But to do so requires great prudence: training, care and a wise heart shaped by God’s love.
A final lesson from weakness
As I return to more normal patterns of speech, these are just some of the lessons God has taught me. There are many more. But the final lesson from having my words taken away is the most important: nothing can take away from us the precious truth of God’s word, and his tongue (voice) speaks the words we ultimately need.
In John 6, after Jesus offends the crowd and they desert him, he asks his disciples whether they want to leave as well. Peter’s reply is striking: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life”.
A few chapters later, Jesus unfolds these words in a manner most precious and comforting, in calling himself our Good Shepherd: “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:27-28). These are the words we first and finally need.
Our tongues, and the words they produce, are precious, powerful and, when used properly, prudent. And none more so than the saving words of our Lord Jesus Christ. Before we speak, may we cling to his prior, saving promise. When we speak, however and whenever God grants us that gift, may it be in resonant echo of our wonderful Father, and our brother the Lord Jesus.
And when we can speak no more, may we look forward to the day – in the words of one of my favourite hymns “There is a fountain filled with blood” – “When this poor, lisping, stammering tongue lies silent in the grave, then, in a nobler, sweeter song, I’ll sing thy power to save!”
The Rev Dr Dan Wu lectures in Old Testament at Moore College.
