Life and Death in the Tongue

Words That Do More Than We Admit

Words can wound. Words can kill. Words can heal.

And sometimes the wounds they leave last far longer than we care to admit.

Scripture does not treat words as small or insignificant:

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21).

That is not poetic language. It is a warning.

Every word you speak leaves a mark. The only question is what kind.

Jesus Removes Our Excuses

Jesus raises the standard in a way that should make us uncomfortable:

Anger and contempt expressed in words come from the same kind of heart that produces murder (Matthew 5:21–22).

He is not collapsing the categories. He is exposing the heart.

We often excuse our words because “we didn’t mean it.” Jesus does not allow that escape. Words reveal what is already present within.

Words That Devour

Paul warns the Galatian church:

“If you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another” (Galatians 5:15).

That is not casual language. That is destruction.

Words spoken in anger, sarcasm, bitterness, or carelessness can tear people apart, sometimes slowly, sometimes all at once.

Proverbs does not soften it:

“Reckless words pierce like a sword” (Proverbs 12:18).

Once spoken, they cannot be taken back. They linger. They settle in memory. They work like a rot that eventually poisons and destroys.

Say It Angry…Regret It Later

Ambrose Bierce wrote:

“Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.”

That regret is not accidental. It comes from somewhere. Which is exactly where James takes us next.

The Tongue Reveals the Heart

James cuts to the core issue:

“From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so” (James 3:10).

He compares the tongue to a spring. It cannot produce both fresh and salt water.

Which leads to a question you cannot avoid:

What is in your well?

Do not answer quickly. Do not answer spiritually. And do not lie to yourself.

It is easy to give a quick, spiritual answer. It is harder to answer truthfully.

If your words are consistently harsh, bitter, or cutting, that is not a communication problem. It is a heart problem. And until that is dealt with, nothing will change.

As Wiersbe said, “What the tongue does reveals what the heart contains.”

Words That Heal…or Harm for Years

Scripture also shows the other side:

“Pleasant words are like a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones” (Proverbs 16:24).

Words spoken with care, truth, and love bring life. They strengthen. They restore.

And just like harmful words linger, so do good ones.

A single word of encouragement can stay with someone for years.

So can a careless, cutting remark.

You are always leaving something behind with your words.

A Standard Worth Bringing Home

There is an old naval regulation that says:

“No officer shall speak discouragingly to another officer in the discharge of their duties.”

If that standard is expected in military discipline, why should we accept less in our homes, our friendships, or our churches?

What would change if we simply refused to speak discouragingly to one another?

Pause. Then Decide.

Before you speak, pause.

Ask yourself:

Will these words bring life, or will they bring harm?

Not what you feel like saying. Not what they “deserve.”

What will your words leave behind?

Choose Life

If your words are a problem, the solution is not just to try harder to control your tongue.

Go deeper.

Ask God to deal with your heart. Ask Him to change what is in the well. Because the tongue does not operate independently. It draws from what is already there.

God gave you the ability to speak. That is not a small gift.

You can use it to wound, to tear down, to poison…or to heal, to strengthen, and to give life.

So choose carefully.

Choose truth. Choose restraint. Choose kindness when it is hardest.

Above all:

Choose life.

Because every word you speak is shaping something…in someone else, and in you.

Wasps, Winter, and the Weight of Home

A Familiar Restlessness

Sixteen years ago, I sat in a coffee shop watching a wasp beat itself against a window, desperate to escape. It became, for me, a picture of discontent. Of restlessness. Of feeling out of place in the world.

Sixteen years later, I find myself in a similar place. Another coffee shop. Another season of watching something I cannot control. This time it is not a wasp, but winter itself.

Snow piling endlessly. Days that feel heavy. A body that has slowed. A spirit that feels confined.

And again, I feel that familiar restlessness.

I long for warmth. For movement. For beaches, trails, and long evenings with family and friends. I find myself yearning for a change in season, both outside and within.

Made for More, But Not Made to Escape

Years ago, I wrote, “I am made for eternity, therefore I am discontent in this temporal world.”

I still believe that. But I understand it differently now.

At that time, my thinking leaned toward escape. The idea that this world is not my home, that I am simply passing through.

There was truth in it. But it was incomplete.

What I am beginning to see more clearly is this:

The destination was never somewhere else. The destination is here.

God’s Desire Has Always Been to Dwell With Us

From the beginning, God’s intention was not to abandon creation but to dwell within it.

“God saw all that He had made, and it was very good.”
— Genesis 1:31

Creation was not a mistake. It was declared good.

We were made to live with God, not apart from Him.

Yet we chose independence. We chose to define life on our own terms. And ever since, humanity has been caught in a cycle of striving and dissatisfaction.

We search for meaning, for control, for fulfillment, and it always feels just out of reach.

A Groaning World, A Shared Longing

That restlessness I feel in the winter, that sense of not quite being at home, is not an accident. It is a signal.

But it is not pointing me away from this world. It is pointing me toward what this world is meant to become.

“For the creation waits in eager expectation… We know that the whole creation has been groaning…”
— Romans 8:19–22

There is a shared dissatisfaction woven into everything.

Not because creation is wrong, but because it is unfinished. Waiting. Anticipating renewal.

Not Escaping the World, But Seeing It Redeemed

This world is my home. Not in its current brokenness, but in its promised restoration.

“Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and He will dwell with them.”
— Revelation 21:3

Revelation does not speak of escape from the earth, but of God dwelling with His people.

Heaven and earth brought together.
All things made new.
Not replaced, but redeemed.

Dissatisfaction With a Purpose

That changes how I understand my own discontent.

Our longing is not something to suppress. It is something to steward.

“Behold, I am making all things new.”
— Revelation 21:5

Dissatisfaction becomes a catalyst.

It pushes us toward God.
And it draws us into His work.

A Call to Participate in Renewal

We are not just waiting for a future reality. We are invited to participate in it now.

“We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making His appeal through us.”
— 2 Corinthians 5:20

This is our calling:

To be people of renewal.
Of reconciliation.
Of restoration.

In our homes.
In our neighbourhoods.
In our communities.

Not someday. Now.

And this work matters more than we often realize.

“Therefore… stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord… because you know that your labour in the Lord is not in vain.”
— 1 Corinthians 15:58

Because of the resurrection, because of what is coming, nothing done in faith is wasted.

Every act of faithfulness.
Every step toward reconciliation.
Every effort to bring light into dark places.

It all matters.

Living Between What Is and What Will Be

The snow will melt. Spring will come.

But the deeper longing, the one that has followed me for years, will only find its rest when all things are made new.

Until then, we live in the tension.

Rooted here.
Hopeful for what is coming.
And steadfast in the work we have been given, knowing it is not in vain.

Even so, Lord Jesus, come.