Pastor Luke preached from notes for this sermon. 

If I were to sum up James 3, it would be “sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will give me a lifetime of therapy.”

Be careful with what you say to yourself and others. We are a language people, all we have are words.

I cannot tell you how awesome it is to stand in front of the redwoods. It’s that feeling you get when you stand beside the ocean, or the Grand Canyon, or that landmark like the Tower of London or Eiffel Tower that you just can’t believe you’re there… the sunrise shining on the dew on your lawn… All I have are words, and words aren’t enough for those moments.

The stats won’t get us there. How redwoods are on average 22 feet around, 367 feet high (that’s a 37 story building). When we were at the Avenue of the Giants this past summer, we got to see all the parts of a redwood. One fell over. It was a really rainy season and the largest in this particular grove fell. The other trees must have decided that “we can’t hold you anymore,” so they let go. This tree was massive! Close to 380 feet tall. When it fell it answered the question, “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around, does it make a sound?” Yes! This was heard miles away and it registered on the Richter Scale. When the rangers got there the next day, there was mud splashed up on the neighboring trees to a height of 75 feet.

We got to stand by the roots. See how they branched out. We then hiked along the trunk. We walked. And walked. And walked. Took a break, had a snack and walked so more. Then where I was expecting the canopy and finally be able to see where flying squirrels and salamanders and other animals that will never touch the earth in their lifetime… there was just a sign. It read something like, “We had to cut off the last 150 feet because it was blocking the road. We normally don’t do that.” Sincerely, the Park Service.

Instead we got to see the tree rings…. “Here’s where the Roman Empire fell. Here’s the moon landing. Here’s when Nirvana released Nevermind…”

Just as the redwoods have parts; roots, trunk, canopy… we have different parts. Not just “the knee bone is connected to the shin bone” stuff, but different voices and emotions in our minds.

This is called “parts theory.” The idea that we have different voices in our heads. In times of stress, maybe a stern teacher speaks to you. When you need comfort, maybe a beloved mentor, parent, or grandparent’s voice speaks.

I think the best way to present this idea is how Disney/Pixar did with the movie, Inside Out. This movie is founded on science!

It’s features a little girl who is born in Minnesota. She’s a happy baby, so Joy is the first emotion. When broccoli is given to her, suddenly Disgust shows up. On her first day of preschool, there’s Fear, a little purple guy who is afraid of everything. When she starts playing hockey and someone hits her, Anger shows up. And finally, when her family moves from Minnesota to San Francisco, there’s Sadness. Joy doesn’t know what to do with Sadness, and the whole movie is based on their relationship. Joy often sends Sadness to do busy work: read manuals or file paper work, rather than listen to what Sadness is trying to say.

In the move, the little girl is grieving. And she’s short with her parents and doesn’t know how to handle these new emotions. My therapist Melanie states that this is like a beachball. Instead of playing with the beachball and passing it or holding it, you suppress it. You push the beachball down in the water. What happens when you do this? It pops up in surprising and unpredictable places.

So when you’re carrying something and suppressing it, and someone asks “how are you today?” and instead of the liturgical response of  “Good, and you?” you start crying. That’s the beachball. Emotions you’re not dealing with coming out sideways.

James chapter 3 says not many of us should be teachers. The tongue is so hard to control. The tongue is fire and can burn people and nature and itself is set by the fire of hell. I have to agree. I was in hell this past winter and spring. There was a voice in my head that was just constant criticism. “Why aren’t you doing better? Where’s your big vision for the church? Where are you leading these people?!” There was no big windmill to tilt at: the doctorate was done. We were doing fine, but this voice demanded more.

In speaking to my therapist, she invited me to give this voice a name. I named him, The General. He was stern. He was a perfectionist. He would remind me constantly of all the mistakes I made. He would show up at board games. I love board games, but he’s a sore loser. I played a game of Risk against Julie G’s husband who plays all the time. I came in second, but to The General, that’s the first loser.

I had to remind The General, this is the first time we played in a long time. That our opponent plays all the time. And that we had fun and to “stand down.” I say that a lot. I wouldn’t speak to anyone like I speak to myself.

I’m trying to speak to myself in kindness. To learn from all of you. To lean into the fruits of the spirit and not mix fresh and brackish water like James advises in verse 11. “Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and brackish water?” No. Thus my mouth must learn to speak only one way.

Sometimes, I need to start with myself and speak to myself kindly before I speak to someone else. Other times, maybe I need to learn how to speak to myself as I speak to others. Whatever way we learn to tame the tongue, it is needed and holy work.

Pastor Eugene Peterson knows the importance of words. He’s an author of many books including The Message, a modern translation of the Bible. He was being interviewed by the legendary Krista Tippett of NPR. She asked about community and he said, “Go to the closest church where you live and the smallest. If it’s not working in six months, go to the next smallest.”

Krista asked, “What is it about small rather than big?”

“Because you have to deal with people as they are,” answered Pastor Peterson. “And you’ve got to learn how to love them when they’re not loveable.”

The task is the same for all of us. Tame the tongue. Speak to yourself as you would a loveable neighbor. To learn to see ourselves as God sees us: beloved children who often stumble over one another, but mostly we’re tripped up by our own tongues.

We are about human thriving here. Corporately and individually. All parts pulling toward the same goal: the kingdom of God. That kingdom is both within you and all around you. May we speak the words of wisdom and loving kindness to each other and all our parts.

Thanks be to God. Amen.