Words are powerful. Words carry meaning. Words can encourage and edify or they can hurt, harm, and destroy. Often, we don't know the power of words until later, either those we've read, heard, or spoken. It can take time for them to sink in.
Most people have heard the idiom "sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you." We learned it as kids. It was supposed to somehow protect us from the flippant, uncaring, and even intentionally mean things people said. However, it isn't true.
Words are important to me. As a linguist who speaks several languages, studied and taught linguistics, words have been part of my life for a long time. I have enjoyed word play, word studies, word games, word searches, etc. But, this post isn't about that, though there is definitely power in being able to use words well and to speak several languages.
I want to share a story with you that shares the power of words. However, this story is personal. That means that this isn't easy for me. Here we go.
In my first appointment as pastor, I served three churches in North Georgia. It was a super appointment, as I got to be in three different communities, two counties, three churches.... the learning curve was huge and the experiences were incredible! There are so many wonderful memories and experiences from that first appointment! I had lots of community engagement and ministry was an adventure.
There came a time in that first appointment that someone in the leadership of one of the three churches expressed to others that they had two pastors-- a Baptist and an air head-- and of the two of them they were willing to settle for the air head for the moment. Now, how do I know this? Because I had an excellent Staff Parish who called the D.S. (District Superintendent) and we had a Staff Parish meeting with the D.S. with both pastors (we were co-pastors). In this meeting, when I learned this, I knew right away which one was me--- I grew up in the Episcopal church and became Methodist when I lived on Long Island in the late 1980s. There it was, I was the air head.
My immediate thought was the air heads candy. That's how my brain works. :)
My second thought was 'what in the world does that mean?' My D.S. explained that what this person likely meant was that I was spiritual. Though I was still confused and really didn't understand what it really meant, I never sought out the person who said it to ask for a definition. I never retaliated. I did, however, have a moment when I considered giving out air heads candy on my last Sunday there. But I didn't do that either. I just carried the words within me.
That day that we met as pastors, Staff Parish and D.S. was a marker in ministry for at least two reasons, maybe three. 1. I slipped a curse word in that meeting. :) It was on my birthday, as I told the D.S., so I got one freebie. I guess hearing that people wanted to get rid of you, but that they would settle for you for the moment was a tad difficult to hear. 2. Ministry changed that day. I started preaching at that church every Sunday, giving the other pastor a break from them so that they could heal from the hurtfulness. That meant I preached two churches most Sundays. It was great experience, yet what I didn't realize until later is that..... 3. those words "air head" dug deep into my soul. They found a place somewhere deep within me and began to grow tangled weeds of doubt and harm around my true self.
The words didn't stop me from being, living, doing ministry. I kept going. Like I said, I didn't realize there was tangled underbrush growing deep within. I dealt with it healthily. I shared with trusted colleagues, spiritual director, spouse. I moved on. Yet, until last week, I truly didn't think it had rooted as much as it had.
Until last week......
When I heard the words...... "you have a deep spirituality." I listened to those words in a consultation meeting. I heard them. I acknowledged them. I think I may have even said "thank you" out loud. There was a moment that I can't fully describe. At the same time, my brain flashed back to several years ago and the "air head" discussion with Staff Parish. It was a quick flash back.
In that moment, there was healing. I can't explain it, but it was there. The tangled underbrush that had grown over the years were removed.
It was humbling enough to hear someone say I have a deep spirituality. It has been even more humbling to recognize the healing power of words when I didn't even know I needed it.
Another way I know it was needed? As I write today, there have been tears. I consider those to be healing and cleansing too.
I am grateful for words.
I know that I don't always use words for good. I am guilty of harming others with my words. I repent of the damage I have done and hope others hear holy and healing words that clear out their tangled underbrush within--- from whatever source(s) it came.
Rev. Mark Davis would always say this: "hurt people hurt people and healed people heal people". It is a saying that has become part of how I observe and live. It's a truth that can be shown over and over again.
This is my story of the power of words.
Thanks for reading.
As this Advent continues, as we are on the path from darkness into light, it is my hope and desire that there is something here that offers light in the darkness.
Peace,
Rev. Deb
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