June 6, 2011

Words That Wound

Christin Ditchfield

I could hear the weeping as I walked through the front door. I was in high school, and my mother had dropped me off for a weekend with my grandparents. I’d arrived a little early, and apparently my grandmother’s Bible study group was still going strong. I tried to slip quietly past the living room and down the hall to the guest bedroom without disturbing them. As I did, I caught a glimpse of my grandmother standing in the center of the room, her body shaking with heart-rending sobs, her friends gathered around her, wrapping their arms around her and praying up a storm. When everyone had gone, my grandmother called me to come to the kitchen for a cup of tea. She didn’t want me to be worried about what I had seen or heard. She explained that the Bible study had been about letting go of the hurts of the past, and that God had put His finger on a wound in her heart that needed to be healed—a burden from which she needed to be set free.

Still teary, my grandmother went on to tell me how she had realized that morning that there was a hurt she’d been holding onto ever since she was a little girl, something that had haunted her all of her life. It seems that once, in a fit of anger, her mother had told her that she was a mistake and should never have been born. (Probably in reference to the fact that she’d been the reason her parents “had” to get married.)

Her mother was not a very sentimental woman; she had that stiff upper lip that the British are famous for. And this was long before she knew Jesus. I doubt if it would ever have occurred to her the anguish that her careless words could cause. But more than 60 years later, the pain was still so fresh that her daughter could hardly breathe.

For decades her mother’s words had hounded her. They robbed her of any sense of joy or satisfaction in her accomplishments. She’d become a national champion swimmer in her teens, an ambulance driver during World War II, and then a much-beloved wife and mother and grandmother. She was very active in the ministry of her church—always reaching out to younger women to mentor them. I can’t count the number of these women who’ve told me how she touched their lives. Yet at times when my grandmother was vulnerable, the devil used her mother’s words to convince her that she was utterly worthless.

Wounded by words.

The world is full of women who have had their hopes shattered, their dreams dashed, their self-image left in shambles. Women who’ve been crippled or stifled or silenced by something hurtful that someone said to them. For some women, the wounds are more of a hindrance, an aggravation, a temporary setback, or a painful experience they eventually learn to “get over.” Such an experience may even become a sort of catalyst that motivates and empowers a woman to rise to the challenge and prove her doubters and detractors wrong. But for every one of these, there are hundreds, if not thousands, who just can’t get past the pain.

Why is it then that we’re not more careful with the words we speak to others? Why on earth would we choose to inflict that kind of pain on someone else?

“The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit” (Proverbs 18:21). We tend to think of words that wound consisting primarily of nasty name-calling and cruel insults. But there are other ways our words become weapons. Let’s take a look at a few of the most popular weapons in our arsenal:

Not-so-constructive criticism. For many of us this is a tough one, because we really mean for our criticism to be constructive. We want our little comments and suggestions to motivate our loved ones and inspire them to change (for the better, of course). But too often, they only devalue. We could devote the rest of this book to a discussion of all the less-than-helpful things that well-meaning mothers have said to their daughters regarding their appearance, their career choice, their boyfriend or husband or lack thereof, their children or lack thereof. Instead of encouraging them, we push them and pressure them. We say we just want our loved ones to be happy. But how can they be, when what they hear from us is that they are unacceptable and unlovable the way they are now? They get the message that they’re a disappointment to us; they’ve let us down.

It’s been said that some people find fault like there was a reward for it. I think it’s true. If we’re not careful, we can get in the habit of constantly criticizing other people, finding fault with them and tearing them down, for no good reason.

Truth not spoken in love. Just because something is true doesn’t mean it’s always loving or helpful to say it. This includes bludgeoning others with Scripture in a misguided attempt to set them straight. The family of a woman I know once found itself facing one crisis after another: loss of a job, death of an elderly parent, adult daughter attempting suicide, and adult son going through a divorce. To top it all off, she and her husband both came down with bronchitis.

When, for the first time in five weeks, they were finally able to attend church, they slipped into the pew exhausted and desperate for some spiritual nourishment. Within minutes they were accosted by a woman, barely more than an acquaintance, determined to take them to task for their recent absence. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been coming to church lately,” she began. “The Bible says we’re not supposed to ‘give up meeting together.’ We’re all busy, but we have to make it a priority. You need to make a commitment to be here.” She added, “I’m just telling you this because we’re supposed to ‘speak the truth in love.’” Seriously? There was no love behind her words. She was just being a busy-body. Love would have said, “It’s so good to see you. We’ve missed you. How have you been?” And later, “How can we help?”

“Humor” that gets out of hand. We were just teasing. Having a little fun. Then it got out of hand. Sarcasm has a place, for sure; it serves a purpose. It can be an effective tool to highlight hypocrisy and humble the proud and arrogant. (God uses a fair amount of it Himself.) But it’s not meant to be used to constantly ridicule and rip to shreds people we claim we love. Even when our quips are clearly intended to be funny, even when they’re accompanied by laughter, a daily barrage of snarky asides can be brutal to another person’s self-esteem. Even those of us who regularly enjoy a little “witty repartee” have to admit how quickly “cute” and “clever” can grow old.

Add a little sarcasm to a compliment and you can steal all the pride and joy, the enthusiasm, and the sense of accomplishment right out of someone else’s heart. “Wow! You cleaned your room for once. Too bad it doesn’t look this good every day.” Or, “Your teacher says you’re so organized and disciplined at school—wish you could be that way at home!” A favorite excuse: “We’re not laughing at you; we’re laughing with you.” Really?

The silent treatment. Strangely enough, one of the ways we wound with our words is to withhold them! When we refuse to communicate, when we won’t say what it is we’re upset about or what people have done wrong, we shut them out. We fill their hearts with anxiety and frustration and even dread. We make them feel isolated and rejected—without saying a single word. And that is after all, what the silent treatment is for. Not to be confused with taking time out or having a cooling off period, the silent treatment is all about manipulation and control. It’s a form of punishment or revenge that somehow feels more righteous than an angry outburst. But throwing this kind of tantrum is not the mark of an emotionally healthy, spiritually mature woman. It certainly isn’t biblical (see Matthew 18:15-17).

These are just a few of the weapons at our disposal; they go on and on.

Words that heal

Over the years, God has made me so keenly aware of my own shortcomings in these areas. I’ve shed many tears over words I wish I’d left unsaid. I’m so very thankful for the blood of Jesus that cleanses us from all our sin, all our “unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). And that God’s grace is sufficient for us (2 Corinthians 12:9). His mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:23). Each day offers us a fresh start.

For myself, I’m determined to learn and grow through all of this and let it make me a better woman, not a bitter one. I’m going to lay aside those words that wound—in favor of words that heal.

Taken from A Way With Words by Christin Ditchfield, © 2010, pp. 24-29, 34. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, IL 60187, www.crossway.org