you just never know

death and life are in the power of the tongue

Spend any time with humans, and you know this to be true: the tongue, though so small, can set your whole world and life ablaze. However, that power can work the other direction too. The tongue, though so small, also has tremendous power to bring life and hope.

Allow me to illustrate.

I awoke one morning awhile back, and the last place I wanted to be was around other people. Do you feel me? Sometimes you just want to curl up, all alone, and sulk, lick your wounds, and isolate yourself from the outside world. 

But this happened to be a Sunday morning.
Which meant there was a gathering of people that I was not to forsake getting together with. A commandment that happens to come from the Ruler of the universe.

So I dragged my sorry carcass out of bed, and through a shower, and took in an egg and a cup of coffee as I do every other morning of the week, and drove with my family to church.

But we didn’t arrive early. No way. I didn’t want to increase human interaction. So we arrived just as the service was beginning, and made our way to the next to the last row as inconspicuously as we could (at least I tried to be inconspicuous). And I did my best not to make eye contact with anyone, as I silently listened to people sing and a worship leader pray, not able to bring my downcast disposition around.

And then the pastor came up, and asked people to take a seat. As he did, he shared some announcements the church family needed to know about, and as he did, I remembered.

Uh-oh. 
This church has a time of fellowship after the singing and before the sermon.
And here I am.
Trapped.
With nowhere to go.
And these people are friendly.
And someone is probably going to talk to me.
Ugh.
Should I fake going to the bathroom? That seems like a reasonable plan.

Anyone out there still feel me? I mean, have you ever been in a crowd, trying to hide? You kind of bring your shoulders in, don’t you? Try to make yourself as small as possible, as if you could get invisible, so no one can see you. Can I get a witness?

But there was a young lady who would have none of this. As I sat there, surrounded by people standing and talking, chatting and laughing, she approached me, and, as I best as I can recall, the conversation went something like this.

“Can I share something with you? I feel like God wants me to share a text with you,” she said.

How could I refuse?

“Yes, please go ahead.” 

And with that permission, she began to read a passage from Luke’s story of Jesus. And then she connected those words to the little she knew of my life and ministry in our city, reminding me of God’s awareness of me, his knowledge of me, his approval and acceptance of me. She personally affirmed me.

She had just met me.

“May I pray for you?” she said.

How could I refuse?

And she did. 
She prayed a most remarkable prayer, saturated with grace, kindness, and care, as tears rolled down my cheeks.

And she said amen, hugged me, and walked away.

I’m telling you this story, dear reader, because you have no idea what your 2 minutes of affirmation could mean to another human, and how God could use you as channel of a flood of his grace and love. You can’t be sure what someone else needs, how it took everything for them to get to the church service that morning. And even if you’ve never met them, there are words you could give that could transform them and turn things around for them.

Death and life are in the power of the tongue, 
and those who love it will eat its fruits.
(Proverbs 18:21)

Would you mind doing me a favor, dear reader, as you consider going to church in the morning?
Would you find someone, maybe someone you don’t even know, walk up, introduce yourself, and encourage them?
Think right now about what you might say. Consider a word from the Scriptures you might share. 
Just think of what God could do through you!

Now, before I go, I want to take a moment, and talk to you.
Yes, you there, the one in the back.
The one who is struggling right now. 
The one who doesn’t want to be around another human.
You just want to isolate, curl up in a ball, and lick your wounds.
And you’re thinking about not going to the church service tomorrow, or you have already decided not to.
Maybe it’s been quite awhile actually since you’ve been, live-streaming taking the place of live people.

Go.
Please go.
Go to church tomorrow.
Risk it. 
Because you need other humans.
And I’m praying right now that God will send someone who will walk up to you, 
and maybe say, 

“Hi! Can I share something with you? I feel like God wants me to share a text with you.”