When you talk, do not say harmful things, but say what people need—words that will help others become stronger. Then what you say will do good to those who listen to you. [Ephesians 4:29 (NCV)]
“What did she mean by that?” we might wonder. We know better than to make insensitive, unkind, or inappropriate remarks but what about when we think we’ve heard those same kinds of comments? Unfortunately, what we perceive is not necessarily what was meant or said. Sometimes, we over analyze the things we hear: the words chosen, the way they’re said, and even the speaker’s tone of voice. We may assign unkind intentions or hidden meanings that aren’t there. When we do that, we can easily find offense where none is intended.
Let’s face it, we all have had “foot in mouth” disease and said the wrong thing or the right thing the wrong way more than once. We’ve used poor choices of words, been politically incorrect, forgotten something we were supposed to remember or mentioned something we should have forgotten. We’ve called people by the wrong names and probably even asked a heavy-set woman when the baby’s due! We didn’t mean to hurt anyone; we were just being the imperfect people we are! I suspect most people are like me, not anywhere near clever enough for veiled messages and double meanings. Nevertheless, I can analyze someone else’s remarks as if they’ve spent hours choosing their words and practicing their delivery. When I think about it, if I’ve felt hurt or offended by another person’s words, it’s usually because of my own insecurities.
I never intend to say rude or thoughtless things but, unfortunately, it sometimes happens. Lord, let your Holy Spirit keep my foot out of my mouth. When in doubt, remind me that silence is always a good option. Just as I want others to give me the benefit of the doubt when I speak carelessly, show me how to be willing to do the same thing. May your Holy Spirit help me assume innocent intentions on the part of those whose words upset or offend me. Guide me so that I not only speak with love but listen with love, as well.
This does not mean that love is gullible, but that it does not think the worst (as is the way of the world). It retains its faith. Love is not deceived … but it is always ready to give the benefit of the doubt. [Leon Morris, in his commentary on 1 Corinthians 13]
After it was returned by the Philistines, the Ark of God had been neglected in Kiriath-jearim for twenty years. Fresh from victories over the Philistines, David decided to bring the Ark back to its rightful home in Jerusalem. It certainly seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately, ignoring the law’s clear instructions that the Ark could only rest on poles and carried on the shoulders of Levites, David had it placed on a cart pulled by oxen. The oxen stumbled, the cart tipped, and Uzzah reached out to steady it. Under Hebrew law, touching the sacred Ark was a capital offense and Uzzah was immediately struck dead. The Ark should never have been on a cart and it was David’s disobedience and carelessness that caused the man’s death. Nevertheless, David’s reaction was to get mad at God.
When writing yesterday’s devotion (“It’s Curtains”), I couldn’t help but feel a brief pang of regret because I never had those conversations with my parents before they died. The thoughts, “Please forgive me. I forgive you. Thank you. I love you,” may have been assumed but never were spoken. I was fifteen when my mother succumbed to cancer. I saw her that day in hospital but, when I walked out that afternoon, I was sure I’d see her again when I visited the following day. I never thought the next time I saw her she’d be lying in a casket. When people would say, “She looks so good,” I wanted to shout at them and say, “She doesn’t look good; she looks dead!” Five years later, I was in the same funeral home and surrounded by many of the same mourners. That time, it was my father’s body lying so still in the front of the room. Two day earlier he’d been hunting pheasants when his heart failed; he died in the middle of a corn field. I’d seen him just a few weeks before that and never thought our farewell was the final one. Did my parents know how much I loved them? Did they know how sorry I was for my failings? Did they know I forgave them for theirs? Did they know how thankful I was for the life they gave me?
My summer beach novel began with a man having a heart attack on a commuter train. For the next several pages, I was privy to the thoughts of his fellow passengers. They were annoyed and frustrated by the train’s unscheduled stop and saw the man’s collapse as a tremendous inconvenience. As they disembarked to find another way into the city, their thoughts were not of the dying man and his wife but of themselves and how their lives had been disrupted.
The terrible storm raged for many days, blotting out the sun and the stars, until at last all hope was gone. [Acts 27:20 (NLT)]
Devotions of the Heart 