It’s my tongue, I’ll wag it if I want to

Like everyone else, I have my share of problems. Not that I want to get into trouble, but trouble always seems to be close to where I am at the moment. I regret the time when I was first introduced to the problems.

Some problems I can’t avoid. It just happens, and no matter what you do, the problem is in the room. I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it, but I hope the problem isn’t too bad.

I know some people in my family get into trouble on purpose. The big goal of his life is to get into trouble on a variety of levels. In the past, when we had family gatherings, this person, who will remain anonymous, did everything possible to make trouble.

Most of the family just ignored him and forgot what he was doing. He wanted to be remembered as the troublemaker in the family. In reality, he was remembered as the Goofball family.

Another form of trouble is what people intentionally cause. For whatever reason, they want to get into trouble and get a lot of pleasure from bullying.

I could never understand this bully mentality. What does someone gain by bullying another person? I remember at school, several boys had a lot of fun bullying other children.

That went on until Miss Ammon, the fifth grade teacher, showed up. She had her way of calming down anyone who got in her way. If she caught you, you were in more trouble than you could handle.

Plus, there’s the mess I get myself into by making a mistake. I didn’t mean to, but for some reason I did, and as everyone knows, there are always consequences. Usually the consequences are not worth it.

I have had experience with almost every level of problems in one form or another. The rungs of the ladder of progress and growth are problematic. If you can handle problems, then you are progressing in your maturity.

Terrible as all of these things are, one source of trouble outweighs all others. It has taken me a long time to understand the dimensions of these types of problems.

What I’m thinking about right now is my “language”.

This language of mine has been the most important source of problems and problems throughout my life. As I get older it seems to get worse.

A preacher friend of mine was talking about one of the older women in his church and saying, “I often wondered if this woman ever had an unexplained thought in her life.”

I know what you mean because I often wondered that about myself.

I still haven’t learned that because I’m thinking about something, I don’t need to talk about it. Thinking doesn’t get me into trouble; Talking gets me into serious trouble.

Sometimes when the Graceful Mistress of the parsonage speaks to me, I speak out loud without realizing it. Then comes the infamous “What did you say?”

Every time I hear this, I know I’m in some kind of trouble. Either I didn’t hear it right, or I heard it right, and I responded.

As a veteran husband, I have to understand that she doesn’t expect an answer every time she asks a question. All she wants from her husband is a positive nod and a greasy smile.

I know, but sometimes I forget. If only I could train my tongue when to speak and when not to speak. There are times when my old tongue wiggles and wiggles, getting me into serious trouble.

One morning, just after breakfast, I was getting ready to leave when my wife said, “When will you be ready to do that job?”

I looked at her curiously and said, “What job?”

He looked at me for a moment and then said, “You know. What we talked about last night while we were watching TV.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. She could remember watching TV the night before, but she had no idea what the conversation was about.

“Don’t you want to tell me that you already forgot?”

Last night, while watching TV, he talked about some projects he had in mind, and I wag my tongue in affirmative action. She assumed that I knew what she was talking about and that she had agreed to that plan.

If my tongue had ears, I wouldn’t get into so much trouble.

Now, I need my tongue to move in a way that will get me out of the trouble it got me into while I was moving last night.

How many correct moves does it take to correct one wrong move?

It would be wonderful if my tongue were somehow attached to my ears. Or maybe, better yet, my brain.

As I get older this seems to be more of a problem.

In my dilemma, I thought of a verse of Scripture. “So also the tongue is a small member, and boasts of great things. Behold what a great thing kindles a little fire!” (James 3:5).

Once you say something, it’s impossible to undo it. My tongue has gotten me into more trouble than all the other things in my life. But there is something in my tongue that can make up for this. I can use my tongue to praise the God who created me.