THE LIFE IN A FLESH CALLED TONGUE

 

People talk, yes, it feels good.

Voices echo in rooms full of diverse conversations.

Yours couldn't be found, you were missing.

At least, you probably didn't miss out.

FOMO couldn't have happened to you.

You didn't try to be the last one in the clique.

Tongues lash at you for your silence.

Your absence could get you dismissed

by a group of people with no defined identity.

So you decided to join the club, since you couldn't beat them, tired of sitting on the fence.

You might take a bad fall in the end.

But a life has dropped dead, just from a shot fired by your mouth.

And to think, those were the ones you called friends.

Your chosen caucus.

Those with profane words, concocted speeches.

Those whose mouths move without direction.

No sentence from them ever builds anything.

Always found pulling down lives like a bulldozer clearing ground.

They aren't bad people, but the words from their lips aren't good either.

No edification, only gossip: left, right, center, and front.

Lives laid out on tables for dinners and luncheons.

But you know that's not you, yet you couldn't salvage it.

.........

Aren't you tired?

What's up with all the validation seeking?

Why are you hiding under the wrong shadow?

A light set on a hill gives direction, but your circle offers no clarity.

Enough of seeking approval from those who didn't form you in the first place.

You're only accountable to your Maker.

Guard your tongue, filter your sound, produce the best.

Let your communication be effective.

Lives get changed by the word of mouth.

Let yours be among the words that don't fall to the ground.

Life and power dwell in that flesh lying between your lips.

Let your words be seasoned with grace.

Men will sit around you, wanting to hear you speak wisdom, words of knowledge.

Blessed shall you be called in generations to come.

For the words of your mouth won't just drop, they'll enrich, support, build, edify, and become a turning point in a damaged life.

You wouldn't know what you carry until you abuse it.

Therefore:

You don't have to be rough around the edges.

That crowd is dirty for your identity.

You're designed for something better.

Your tongue is curated for greatness.

Defined, cultured, saturated, refined, seasoned.

That's what you are. That's your mouth. That's the value your tongue produces.

TAME IT. TRAIN IT.

Forever yours in Christ,

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