“Mom,
did you say a swear word in Sunday School today?”
The
question punched me in the throat from the back seat. We were traveling home from visiting family a
couple of hours away. It had been a long
day starting with early church, then Sunday School, then in the car and off to
the home of my in-laws, and back again. I was exhausted, but the question woke me right up.
“Did you ask me if I swore in Sunday School today?”
“Yeah. Did you use the B word?”
I
racked my brain for the lesson, the context.
I sheepishly admit that it wouldn’t be out of the question for me to say
a swear word in church. Our congregation
is full of young and old, friends, acquaintances, and newcomers, and all are the
realest real people you’ve ever met. I’ve
said – and heard – all sorts of things under the roof of our church
building. Swearing is not specifically prohibited,
but a common law of decorum demands that curse words should probably not be
uttered there. It’s plain common sense
and normal respect for the sanctity of God’s house to not use curse words in
church.
At
once I remembered. Upon illustrating an
example of how we treat each other, I had used the word in a made-up dialogue
that teens might hear in the hallways at school, and offered it as an example
of something they themselves might say in jest about someone or to each other
without thinking.
And,
yes. I was teaching Sunday School that
morning. To said teens.
The
very idea that my son heard it, made a note of it, recalled the incident, and then
decided to bring it up to me hours later was a red flag. Probably other kids heard and noted my
language. Probably there were even one or
two in the room who haven’t ever heard a parent swear. Likely most of them hadn’t heard a teacher
swear.
Venturing
to say that none of them had heard a Sunday
School teacher swear during Sunday School.
I
confessed. “Yeah, I guess I did. I
shouldn’t have,” and cringed. Hanging my
head, I didn’t even look at my husband, who is has no patience with my use of colorful
language. He’s not a swearer by nature,
while I could hold an entire conversation using nothing but curse words. He keeps me in line; my children have heard
alllll the bad words in my voice, not his.
Plus, I didn't need his admonition. The tsk tsk tsks were loud and clear in my head. But he knew he didn't need to say anything; he knows to keep quiet. Sometimes too much, but that’s another story.
I
can’t help but feel as if the Bible is talking to me and just me sometimes.
Holding
my tongue is a skill I've practiced hard. I’m one to talk then think, and this has
caused me more than a little grief and guilt in life. Wisdom is a regular goal of mine, yet there
are rarely any days that I don’t wince at the memory of something stupid I said
off-the-cuff.
Wisdom
can be elusive.
But
it needn’t be. The word of God advises
us how to hold our words and our tongues, and it is up to us to follow that
advice. God speaks to us in many ways,
and we can use his example in Christ of how to speak in love and
righteousness. I need these lessons
every day.
Even from the back seat of our car.
Dear God, forgive me when I use words that don't reflect your work in me. Thank you for your gentle reminders and for teaching me daily of my need
to guard my tongue. I ask for your help
in the moment, to give me pause before I speak.
Thank you, Amen.
*******