Pastor Tom Johnson, Sept. 16, 2012
Sticks and stones will break my bones
But words will set me on fire.
“The tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness…setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell.”
It was the fiery tongue of the serpent in the garden of Eden. It was the words coming from its tongue that deceived Eve and Adam. The serpent’s tongue set a spark—and caused a fire to spread to our first parents and to every human soul. It was the blazing tongue of Pharaoh that gave the order to kill all the Israelite infant sons. A twisted, evil fear overcame the king and ruler of Egypt and ignited mass murder through his tongue. It was the flaming tongue of the Caiaphas, the High Priest of Israel that ignited a course of death before Jesus. He said that it was better for one person to die for the nation than for the whole people to perish. It was the burning tongue of Judas that betrayed our Lord for 30 pieces of silver. It was the smoldering tongue of Peter that denied Him three times. It was the red hot tongue of Pontius Pilate that gave orders for Jesus to be scourged and crucified—sparking a fiery course to the capital punishment of an innocent man. It’s the same fire that kindled in tongues in our lifetimes which has called whole nations to war and terrorism—killing of hundreds of thousands of innocent people—tongues ignited with lies, deception, and misinformation.
James says, “every kind of beast and bird, or reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil.” No one is free from the evil that is trying to ignite our tongues. According to James, all of us are pyromaniacs—it is in our broken, human nature to play with fire. We are all, each of us, guilty of arson—starting little fires around us. We may not intend for the fire to be fed and grow—but that is the nature of fire—to consume everything in its path—beginning with ourselves.
About 12 years ago, when Johanna and I were living in Dallas, we had a little fireplace in our apartment. You couldn’t burn real wood in it because it was too small and not well insulated. So, we would buy artificial logs which only needed a lighted match. It looked nice. Our cat would bath herself in the heat. One cold day I put one of our artificial logs into the fireplace and lit it. After it was done and nothing was left but dust, I put the ashes into a paper bag, and took it out in the dumpster. A few hours later, we heard sirens like we often did in inner city Dallas. But this time the sirens grew more loudly than ever…pulling right up to the dumpster behind our building. I think my response to Johanna was, “You don’t think that was me who did that, do you?” It could have burned down the whole apartment building. Mrs. O’Leary’s cow that kicked over the lantern may have started the Chicago fire. But any spark could have started that fire that consumed the whole city in flames.
As James says, “How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire…setting on fire the entire course of life!” What may seem like a little, harmless gossip flicked out of our mouths like a cigarette out the car window—it’s all that’s necessary to ruin a person’s reputation—to bring their social life down in flames. We live in a time when the mere accusation of misconduct is all the spark that is needed for a person to lose their job—their livelihood and vocation up in flames. Sometimes we are not aware of the fires we set with our words—that the fire of hell itself wants to spread its death by using our tongues as an accelerant.
Think about how we gossip in the name of prayer. “We need to pray for so and so.” We suggest prayer for someone—but in our telling of why they need prayer, we may betray the person’s trust or reveal too much information. Or we cloak hurtful, burning words with humor—thinking that if we chuckle or laugh that we remove the harm that has been done. As the proverb says, “Like a madman who throws firebrands, arrows, and death is the man who deceives his neighbor and says, ‘I am only joking!’” (Proverbs 26:18-19). “No human being can tame the tongue,” James says. And so, what we need is not to tame or reform the tongue—but to give it a new Fire Marshal. We cannot put out the fires of hell that ignite our tongues. But we can pray that our tongues become instruments of the true and living God.
And so the Psalmist prays, “Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; keep watch over the door of my lips!” (Psalm 141:3). “Deliver me, O Lord, from lying lips, from a deceitful tongue” (Psalm 120:2).
On Pentecost, God sends the Holy Spirit—tongues of fire come and rest on each of his people. Peter’s tongue, the same tongue that denied Jesus, now proclaims forgiveness, life, and salvation for every tribe, nation, language, and people. What Jesus had promised early in His ministry has now come to pass—John the Baptist baptized with water but Jesus will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire! In Holy Baptism, God’s Spirit drowns the old fire that ignites our tongues. He smothers out the flames of hell itself by his death on the Cross. And by his resurrection, he ignites a new and holy fire. Instead of a destructive fire, our tongues are now burning with the Good News of Jesus Christ. God has ignited a good word on our tongues—news of forgiveness, reconciliation, and peace. Our tongues are used now not to curse, but to bless—not to gossip, but to pray—not to deceive but to praise and give thanks to our Heavenly Father.
He breaks the pow’r of canceled sin;
He sets the pris’ner free.
His blood can make the foulest clean;
His blood avails for me.
Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer’s praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of His grace!
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