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Gentleness 

Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear (1P 3.15). 

Here the KJV uses the word meekness. Outside of Christian circles, influenced by the biblical language, our culture doesn’t use the word much. When we hear it, some are inclined to think of Casper Milquetoast, or a hen-pecked husband, or the guy the bullies kick sand on at the beach. 

But if you’ve spent much time hearing sermons in church, you probably know that the biblical word means something very different from that. Meekness is strength tempered by gentleness; it’s power under control. It’s the weightlifter gently cradling his infant child in his arms; it’s the firefighter gently rescuing the kitten from the tree. It’s Jesus being moved by the sight of a widow escorting the body of her only son to his tomb, and saying to himself, “This will not stand!”—and then mightily raising the boy to life again and returning him to his mother. 

Moses was meek, the veritable champion of meekness (Nu 12.3), yet he killed an Egyptian taskmaster and buried his corpse in the desert (Ex 2.11-12). He stood up to a group of bullies so that some young women could access a well to water their father’s flock (Ex 2.16-17). He led 2 million or so complaining Israelites—and Egyptian hangers-on—through 40 years of wandering in the wilderness after representing them before the God of heaven on Mount Sinai. 

Moses was no pushover. 

And his strength wasn’t always controlled; there was that Egyptian taskmaster, and there was also a time when he struck a rock in anger (Nu 20.7-12), thereby disqualifying himself from entrance into the Promised Land—at least until Jesus gave him a special invitation (Mt 17.3). 

It’s possible to speak powerfully, yet meekly, and without sin. Someone asks us about the reason for our hope, and we can speak powerful words, but with an attitude that doesn’t drive him away unnecessarily. 

Note that Peter here combines meekness with fear. Why the connection? I’d suggest that fear—respect—will encourage meekness. Of course, if we fear God, we’re going to represent him truthfully, reflecting, insofar as we can, his gentle character. And if we respect the person we’re answering, we won’t push him around, cut him off, or otherwise act toward him in ways inappropriate for someone in the image of God. 

We don’t live in a gentle age. And because we don’t, gentleness will stand out against the chaotic social and cultural background. 

Be the gentle one. 

Genuineness 

Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh (Mt 12.34 // Lk 6.45). 

We should speak from our hearts. But that’s not really the point here: we all do indeed speak from our hearts, and that’s the source of a lot of our problems. 

Your words demonstrate what you are on the inside; they paint a picture of the real you. And to the extent that the real us isn’t consistent with the characteristics of sound speech that we’ve been considering, we’re our own worst enemy. 

In Part 4 of this series we talked about truthfulness. What we say ought to be the truth, and thus it ought to be an accurate, genuine reflection of who we are. 

And that means that in order to speak soundly, we need to be healed from the inside out. We need to be regenerated, to be brought from spiritual death to spiritual life. 

What I’m describing, of course, is what the Bible calls salvation, or justification, or conversion. I hope that you have entered that gate; if not, I hope you will—and if I can help you with that, please let me know. 

No judgment. 

But until then, you won’t be able to engage consistently in sound speech. 

Even after conversion, this is a growing process; I’m not there yet, and neither are you. 

But with time, improvement comes. May we all speak consistently with our heart, and in edifying ways as well. 

A bit more to think about, in one last post.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

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Thankfully 

We live under the shadow of God’s providence—his provision, his direction, his protection. All of our life springs from that truth. So when we speak to him, we should speak thankfully. 

And when we speak to others, we should speak thankfully as well, because their presence in our lives, and the things their presence supplies, are all acts of God’s providence too. 

¹ Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; ² And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savour. ³ But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints; ⁴ Neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient: but rather giving of thanks (Ep 5.1-4). 

Recognition of God’s care for us will make us thankful for the care of others. Thankful to God, and thankful to them—and thankful enough to be inclined to express that thankfulness verbally. Thankful enough not to undercut their joy with “filthiness, [or] foolish talking, [or] jesting.” 

It’s worth noting here that the prohibition of “jesting” doesn’t mean we shouldn’t tell jokes or comment on funny things. That word is talking about so-called “locker-room talk”: crude or coarse or obscene speech. It makes no sense to talk that way to people we’re thankful for. As noted earlier, we’re called to build others up, not tear them down. 

Blessing 

Several passages speak of the importance of blessing, rather than cursing, with our words. 

⁹Therewith [i.e, with the tongue] bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after the similitude of God. ¹⁰Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so to be (Jam 3.9-10). 

Not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing: but contrariwise blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing (1P 3.9). 

Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not (Ro 12.14). 

Of course, this idea derives from the principle of edification; cursing doesn’t build people up. 

We live in a hostile age. A great many people are angry at those who disagree with them, and they feel free to express that anger frankly and publicly on social media. In a sense that’s not new; people have always been angry at those who disagree with them, but it hasn’t always been possible for pretty much anybody to be his own publisher. A generation or two ago, people used the privacy of their cars to cuss out other drivers in ways they would never do to their faces. The spirit of cursing has always been with us. (I should note, I suppose, that by “cursing” here I don’t mean using bad language; I mean the opposite of blessing.) 

What does it take for us to be speakers of blessing rather than cursing? 

Well, to start with, it means we have to pay attention—to notice the good things in others, and not just the good things they do for us (we’ve already mentioned thankfulness), but all their good qualities. We need to pay closer attention to those around us than we do to our own interests, of whatever sort. 

It also means that we need to speak up about those things. For some of us that means overcoming shyness; for others it means getting serious instead of just joshing people all the time. 

Sometimes, for the sort of blessing that is more appropriate in private, we need to seek out private time with the person in order to deliver that message—as a teacher, for example, I can’t comment on a student’s academic performance in front of other students. But very often, we ought to consider speaking that blessing publicly, so others will hear it, and so the person we’re blessing will know that others have heard it. 

Dale Carnegie didn’t invent this idea; it comes straight from the Bible. 

Yet more next time. 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Part 1 | Part 2 

And now, in the New Testament, God speaks in a way he never has before. 

He speaks in person, visibly, incarnately, powerfully. 

¹ In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ²The same was in the beginning with God. ³All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. ⁴In him was life; and the life was the light of men. ⁵And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not (Jn 1.1-5). 

Later in that prologue his claim is even more explicit: 

¹⁴ And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth. … ¹⁸ No man hath seen God at any time; the only begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, he hath declared [lit., exegeted] him” (Jn 1.14-18). 

With this change, God speaks through his incarnate, eternally human Son.  

I should take a moment, I suppose, to deal with a possible objection to what I’ve just claimed. 

There are many, including me, who believe that “the Angel of Yahweh” in the Old Testament is a preincarnate appearance of God the Son. If this idea is correct, then God did indeed speak “visibly” in the Old Testament, even appearing to be incarnate; as just one example, he appears to Abraham as one of three men walking down a road past Abraham’s tent, and he eats a meal with him (Ge 18.1-8)—and by the end of their conversation it’s clear that Abraham understands that he’s speaking face to face with God himself (Ge 18.22-33). But the angel is not directly presented in the Old Testament as God himself; what John is claiming in the prologue of his Gospel is qualitatively different. 

To verify that the Son is the perfect expression of God—the Logos—the Father twice speaks from heaven, once at Jesus’ baptism: 

And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased (Mt 3.17). 

and a second time at his Transfiguration: 

and behold a voice out of the cloud, which said, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him (Mt 17.5). 

Perhaps 30 years after the Son returns to the Father in heaven, an anonymous author explains what has happened:  

¹ God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, ²Hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds; ³Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high; ⁴Being made so much better than the angels, as he hath by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they (He 1.1-4). 

And finally, our friend John tells us that at the end of time God speaks again: 

⁶And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely. ⁷He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son (Re 22.6-7). 

When God speaks, he speaks the truth. He speaks justly. He speaks rightly. And good things happen.  

Sure, sometimes he speaks in judgment. But even then—perhaps especially then—he speaks truth, and he speaks justly, and he speaks rightly. 

We’ve engaged in this survey to summarize how God speaks, and specifically to consider following his example, to the extent that we are able, in our own speech. We’ll turn to that next time. 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Part 1 

We’re looking at God’s speech as a model for our own. The previous post ended with God speaking of delivering his people Israel from their Egyptian taskmasters, and of his keeping that promise through the plagues. 

After crossing the Red Sea—miraculously—Israel travels to Mount Sinai, where they will meet God and receive the Law of Moses. 

And God spake all these words, saying, ²I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage (Ex 20.1-2). 

And here come the Ten Commandments, a constitution for the new nation. For the next forty years, God talks to Moses as he wishes, and he talks to him in a special way.  

The Lord talked with [Moses] face to face in the mount out of the midst of the fire (Dt 5.4). 

Face to face, without distance, without danger. 

As we know, those forty years were a judgment in response to Israel’s unbelief. But God is faithful, even when his people are not, and he brings them to the Promised Land and empowers their victory over the perverse peoples living in it. 

Centuries pass. Israel is now well settled into the Land, after initially living in houses they didn’t build and eating from gardens they didn’t plant. And when they want a king, God gives them the king he had long ago promised them. David, the man after God’s own heart, the sweet singer of Israel, sets the nation off on a course toward prosperity and peace—and at the end of his life he reveals where his sweet songs came from: 

¹Now these be the last words of David.  
David the son of Jesse said,  
And the man who was raised up on high,  
The anointed of the God of Jacob,  
And the sweet psalmist of Israel, said,  
²The Spirit of the Lord spake by me,  
And his word was in my tongue.  
³The God of Israel said,  
The Rock of Israel spake to me,  
He that ruleth over men must be just,  
Ruling in the fear of God.  
⁴And he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth,  
Even a morning without clouds;  
As the tender grass springing out of the earth  
By clear shining after rain (2S 23.1-4). 

After David and his son Solomon come other kings, mostly evil ones, and God, graciously, speaks once again, this time through prophets.  

Therefore thus saith the Lord God,  
Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone,  
A tried stone, a precious corner stone, a sure foundation:  
He that believeth shall not make haste (Is 28.16). 

More prophets come, for three more centuries, bringing words from God, calling God’s people to truth, to righteousness, to justice, to peace. But for the most part, the people don’t listen. There are two periods of exile and a return, and then more self-centered living.  

 And after that, silence.  

 Four centuries of silence.  

 God does not speak.  

 And all the light and wisdom and truth and direction and power that consistently come when he speaks—are missing. They’re not there.  

 Silence from God is not a good thing.  

 When will he speak again?  

 When will we know what we so desperately need to know?  

Oh, he will speak again, and he will speak in a way that he never has before. 

Next time.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Do you have trouble with your mouth? 

I do. And I always have. Since birth.  

Really. 

There are few things worse than saying something that you regret, whether immediately or eventually. 

How should we then speak? 

I’d like to take a few posts to meditate on that. 

And I’d like to begin by considering someone who speaks, and who speaks well. 

The Bible begins with a speech act: 

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. ²And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. ³And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. ⁴And God saw the light, that it was good (Ge 1.1-4). 

God spoke, and something good happened. As the chapter continues, he continues to speak, every utterance bringing things—good things—into existence, and by the end of the chapter God declares everything he has spoken, and thus created, to be “very good” (Ge 1.31). 

A few generations later, God speaks to Noah, whom he has closed up in the Ark, and tells him to leave the ship that has been his shelter for the past year: 

¹⁵And God spake unto Noah, saying, ¹⁶Go forth out of the ark, thou, and thy wife, and thy sons, and thy sons’ wives with thee. ¹⁷Bring forth with thee every living thing that is with thee, of all flesh, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth; that they may breed abundantly in the earth, and be fruitful, and multiply upon the earth (Ge 8.15-17). 

Here the earth thrives with new life—a second chance at life, if you will—after a devastating judgment. God speaks, and good things happen. 

But God is not done. He’s going to choose a people to bless in a special way, with a universal outcome: 

Now the Lord had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto a land that I will shew thee: ²And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing: ³And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed (Ge 12.1-3). 

And so he does. But within just three generations Abraham’s descendants will be out of the Land, and decades later they will be slaves in Egypt—but they will have grown to 2 million strong.  

And God will see the suffering of his people, and he will remember his promises to Abraham, and he will find Moses on the west side of the Arabian desert and speak once again, this time from a burning bush: 

⁷And the Lord said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows; ⁸And I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk and honey (Ex 3.7-8). 

And he does deliver them, with a series of spectacular plagues that demonstrate that all the gods of Egypt are just papyrus tigers. And he will gather his people at the foot of a mountain in the Sinai, and he will speak them into existence as a nation. 

God is demonstrating his power, and accomplishing global good, by his words. 

But there’s much more to see here. 

Next time. 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay