I do not like to get behind big trucks when driving. I am almost too short to be driving as it is. They checked my vision, have they thought about my stature? And big trucks are just really irritating to follow. I especially hate to get behind a big truck filled with gravel that wants to share. Just as the thought of ‘hmmm maybe I should wisely distance myself more’ crosses my mind, the random rock-missile invariably launches, headed straight for my windshield. Too late. Loud whack. I, not having gained any recent stature, endanger all nearby vehicles carelessly craning my neck checking for the chip. I know if there is even the tiniest mark it will most likely be followed, soon, by a meandering crack. And then there will be an inspection failed and a new windshield ordered with unexpected money spent. Sigh.
Rocks on the windshield are like words flung. One comment tossed without thought can grow into cracking heartache. Why are the truck beds of our heart so piled high with chipping words, gossip, complaints, snide remarks, opinions, unofficial reports, and whining, reckless, and often angry missiles of soul discouragement? Do we even think about the zingers launched? Words pass out of our hearing in just a moment, but the heart-chip they cause can last, if the hearer lets it, a lifetime.
Jesus warned, in Matthew 12, of our future account giving for each idle word spoken. That cracks my heart with conviction. Idle word accounting? Will there be a whole section of eternity set aside just for my day (or years) in court – defending all the stupidity I have launched? Sobering thought. And what does my heart hold, anyway, that such words would be flung? It is out of that treasure-store I speak.
Time to slow down and welcome an assessment. Time to insure the goods of my heart and mind and tongue are true. And holy. And just and pure and necessary. Edifying. Uplifting and encouraging and nurturing. Grace-filled just in case something spills out and over onto the highway of another’s life and heart.