Words Matter

Every day for the last 8 years, I have sat down either with a pen and paper or keyboard and screen to write. Before I begin, I say a simple prayer: 

Lord, May my words spread hope. Amen.

Growing up, I can recall my parents and teachers stressing the importance of our words. At home and in the classroom, I was told about the power our words hold and how the words we speak matter. Our words can build up or tear down, spreading hope or hate. This is a truth I have known my entire life, and it is something I still need to be reminded of daily. 

The words we use have the ability and strength to sink deep into the hearts and minds of those who are listening and reading. Our words are a reflection of our heart, as they reveal the truth we believe. Yes, this also applies to comments on Facebook.  

I first fell in love with writing and words while attending church as a young boy. On Sunday mornings, music would pipe through the organ, filling the sanctuary as the families surrounding would sing with great enthusiasm.

I stayed silent. 

As a nine-year-old boy, it was difficult for me to sit still through an hour-long service, let alone to spend most of that hour singing hymns written hundreds of years ago. I didn’t know how to read music, and I struggled to sing along with the congregation. Every time we were to hold a note, my singing would turn into yawning. I don’t think this is a sin, but it certainly isn’t encouraged behavior. One Sunday, my mother turned to me during the service and said if I didn’t sing, I would have to write out every hymn when we got home. Being the stubborn boy I was (am), I kept silent. After church, I sat at the kitchen table and wrote down the lyrics to every hymn everyone else sang during the service. Although I failed to sing the words, the words did not fail to sing to me. As I wrote them down, I became fascinated with rhyming, storytelling, and communicating truth in an artistic and clever way. My defiance and stubbornness led me to see the beauty and power of our words. As I copied the words from the bulletin to loose-leaf paper, I saw how these old words continued to burn bright and remain relevant because of their love and truth. 

“Although I failed to sing the words, the words did not fail to sing to me.”

And that’s what led me to pick up the pen and write my own words. It is no surprise that our world is in need of honest words of love that bring hope. And those words should come from you and I. Because the words we speak continue to live on in the hearts and minds of those who hear what we say. In middle school, I had the pre-growth spurt physique, or as we know it today, the dad-bod. I was well aware that I wasn’t as skinny as the other boys in my class and prayed each night for my growth spurt to arrive. Before my prayer was answered, one of my classmates called attention to my midsection. Across the lunch table, he referred to me as a fat chipmunk. Fat chipmunk.

These two words replayed in my mind, echoing day in and day out. There are some things you can't forget. And I still cannot forget those two words. 

“Lord, may my words spread hope.”

His insult was awful and poorly thought-out, but effectively did its job as it tore me down.

Some sayings are believable, but the one about sticks and stones breaking bones and words never hurting, well that one is far from true. No matter the size of the stick or stone, words can hurt. I would have rather been hit with a stick or struck by a stone than be called a fat chipmunk.

A fat chipmunk.

As shameful as it is to admit, there have been moments in my life where I was on the other side of the table hurling hurtful words. Unfortunate words that have inflicted lasting pain, echoing in the heart and mind of another. And if our words are a reflection of the truth we believe, I believe I should be using my words for good, rather than division. These days I am learning to speak what is beautiful and true. To write and speak words that offer truth to the world. To write and speak words that shine light and bring clarity. To write and speak words that spread hope. Because this is what our world needs day in and day out. And for me, it begins with a simple prayer: Lord, may my words spread hope. Amen. 

May this be our prayer before we open our mouths or put the pen to the paper.

May this be our prayer as we write and speak. May this be our prayer as we begin each day.