Bitterness in disguise.

It is not a new thought that the tongue has power. It is not a new or profound thought that our words, what we choose to speak in and over situations, matter. They wield a certain power in this life.

Just read through the book of Proverbs. There, it's said that the prudent hold their tongues, that the soothing tongue is like a tree of life, and that the perverse tongue crushes spirits. It says that, without gossip, a quarrel dies down, and the tongue of the wise can bring healing. It goes as far to declare that within the tongue lies the power for both life and death.

What a great responsibility we all carry.

However, sometimes we read these verses enough to become numb to their caution. We fail to practice this in our own hearts. 

Talk is cheap, as they say. We must learn to walk the walk.

These things have been on my mind lately, specifically in relation to bitterness. For some reason, it seems when bitterness takes over, we lose control of our tongue unknowingly and frequently. We speak more death and curses, but, somehow, they feel justified.

Bitterness, I’ve found, likes to play dress up. It puts on the appearance of valid frustrations. It prances around as the complaints of someone with a far superior perspective, someone in the right who has been wronged. It takes the form of ego and pride, but it calls itself assurance and self-love. You won't notice the way it molds and bends to remain disguised.

We seem to forget that, behind our smiles, there is a very real threat lurking, just as capable of being an attacker as the tongue or situation or circumstance that we felt attacked us first. Though our words feel justified, that does not make them any less like death.

Don’t misunderstand—there are times for ranting to a trustworthy friend. There is need to express the great hurts and aches and sorrows of our hearts in the safe places where we are known and loved. Times where the honesty someone needs will feel painful to tell. Times when we will not be able to help the anger that spills out or stop the bitterness from telling its tale.

I think the key to becoming masters of the tongue lies in the motivation of our hearts, not just in the time before we speak, but in the aftermath of the words that are spoken too harshly and too loudly. 

I think the questions that we need to ask—I need to ask—are who am I speaking to about these things, about the bitterness and grudges I’ve stored up inside myself? What is my goal in saying them out loud? When I speak wrongly, do I apologize and call out my bitterness? Or do I let it stay disguised? Do I move forward from these conversations ready to take the next step toward healing, toward releasing my bitterness and speaking life again? Or do I move onto the next person, the next available gossip, and continue the tell the tale of how right I was?

If what I say has the power to bring either life or death into this world, I want to make the choice to speak life. Even when it's hard. Even when I don't want to. I want to learn to practice what I preach in hopes of creating a world where bitterness does not run rampant in disguise anymore. I want to face the motivations of my heart and the words of my mouth with clear eyes, stopping long enough to recognize that I could be just as much in the wrong when I let bitterness control my response.

words by Jacqueline Winstead and photo by Hailey Pierce