Midweek Musing- February 11, 2026

When I was growing up, I was taught to say, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

I now believe that is one of the greatest lies many of us were taught.

Bones break, yes. But with time, they mend. In fact, orthopedic specialists will tell you that the site of a healed fracture can become stronger than it was before.

But words?

Words can wound in places no X-ray can capture.

And some of those wounds can last a lifetime.

Words spoken can never be unsaid.

Words can create or destroy.

They can bring hope or despair, joy or sorrow, healing or harm.

Words have tremendous power.

For Christians, that should not surprise us. We are people who worship a God known, in so many ways, through Word.

In Genesis, God speaks creation into being: “Let there be light.”

In John’s Gospel, Jesus is revealed as the Word made flesh.

In Hebrews, we are told the word of God is “living and active.”

God’s Word is not frozen in the past—it is still at work, still forming us, still moving the world toward what God promises it can become.

In the novel City of Peace, a Methodist pastor named Harley Camden puts it this way:

“I’m convinced that words create reality… It’s a very biblical idea. Think of God creating the world in Genesis, saying ‘Let there be light,’ and there is light. Jesus is described in the New Testament as ‘the Word.’ When Martin Luther King Jr. said, ‘I have a dream,’ people began to see a vision of a new world of equality. Words create reality. Whether we say ‘I love you’ or ‘I hate you’ makes a huge difference.”

That insight cuts close to home.

Because the words we speak, write, repeat, post, endorse, laugh at, or excuse through silence all reveal something about us—about our hearts, our allegiances, our discipleship.

So here is the challenge for us:

If we belong to Christ, then our words must belong to Christ too.

We are called to be people who speak hope in cynical spaces.

People who speak truth in deceptive times.

People who speak kindness in a culture of cruelty.

People who name and resist evil, violence, and oppression—not with hatred, but with holy courage and steadfast love.

Silence can be compassion in some moments.

But in other moments, silence becomes consent.

And faithful people must learn the difference.

Paul gives us a compass in Philippians:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” (Philippians 4:8)

And our own tradition echoes this call. As the PC(USA) Brief Statement of Faith declares:

“In a broken and fearful world, the Spirit gives us courage… to hear the voices of peoples long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom, and peace.”

That means our words are never neutral.

They either participate in God’s healing work—or they do not.

They either make room for truth, dignity, and compassion—or they reinforce fear and harm.

So, before we speak—at home, at church, online, at work—maybe we should ask:

•       Is it true?

•       Is it just?

•       Is it kind?

•       Does it sound like Jesus?

Because words always do something.

They never simply disappear.

May our words become instruments of grace.

May they tell the truth without cruelty.

May they challenge evil without becoming evil.

May they carry hope, not harm.

And may we, by the power of the Spirit, speak in ways that help this broken world look a little more like the kingdom of God.

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Alleluia Amen.