Spiritual Speech Therapy

Sunday's sermon left me simmering like a hot stew.  

Apparently the Jewish leaders went to John the Baptist and asked "Who are you?" 

He denied he was a prophet or Elijah come back from the dead. He described himself as one who preceded the Messiah. One who would cry out hardily, "Here is your God."

John the Baptist was the Voice for God.

a photo by Probably Okay! on Flickr

By comparison I hear my voice as loud, persistent and judgmental. It is vituperous rather than persuasive. 

The sermon reminded me (again) how sorry I am for the unkind words I dump on my husband like a pan of cold, scummy dishwater. I want a do-over for using sarcasm as a bludgeon on my daughters. I regret complaining over trifles when I have a thousand thousand reasons to be grateful.

photo taken off of blogs, no longer on Munchkin site

Jesus said that our words come out of our hearts. Woe is me for I am a woman of unclean lips and a contaminated heart.  God wouldn't be out of line to scour my offensive inner parts with a stiff brush--a high-pressure version of Mother's old threat to wash my mouth out with soap.

So I prayed:

Lord, I truly long to hear Your patience, sweetness, and mercy, in my voice. 
  

So God, hush me. Not permanently, please. And I'd hate it if You had to wire my jaw shut, although either scenario could have merit.  I'm thinking more fairy-godmother zap me and make me mute when You know I'm going to spew sewage. 

But I know You're neither a Bippity-bobbity-boo God nor The Terminator. 

You promised to make me new; but, the mystery of the process is vast and the current speech therapy isn't working.

No wonder some Christian orders require vows of silence. Would it jump-start my progress if I were nun-for-a-day? What if I quit talking for Lent? 

I'm all ears.

Amen.