More Than Just Words

Words

Written on paper, by the hand of a poet, they are the harmonious sharps and flats of an accomplished musician – – creating the most beautiful expression of art ever known;

Spoken in air, by the mouth of a fool, they are the sharp and deadly knives of an evil predator – – killing the hopes and the dreams of a possibility.

Tara N. Trass

I love words. In spite of their great potential to hurt, they possess an even greater power to heal. Think about the last time someone apologized to you or the first time you heard your baby say ‘”mama” or “dada.” Think about the last real good sermon you heard, the last time someone affirmed you or the last time someone gave you a compliment, told you that they appreciated you, or told you that you were their “Spock” (only “Captain Kirk” would get that). Think about the last time someone told you that they loved you. Do you remember the words they said? Do you remember how they made you feel or how they changed your life?

The right words can produce happiness, praise, laughter, restoration, forgiveness, and even love. Whether spoken, sung or written, words can transcend the ears, go beyond the mind and pierce the heart and soul. Don’t let anyone fool you into thinking that words don’t really matter. Words have power.

While we boast that sticks and stones will break our bones and words will never hurt us, we often find ourselves covering scars, stitching cuts or bandaging wounds from words that have been uttered. I believe that if we really looked, we could find that people seek counseling, have nervous breakdowns, and even commit suicide more over what people have said (or not said) than over what they have done. Words are powerful.

The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.

{Proverbs 18:21 NIV}

I don’t know how many times I must have repeated the ‘sticks and stones’ jingle as a child, but I do remember swallowing pain and holding back tears with many a declaration. I was a very sensitive child. If someone fussed at me, I wanted to cry. If someone spoke to me with disappointment in his or her voice or if someone teased me, I wanted to cry. But, I was too stubborn to let them know that their words affected me. I was too stubborn to let them know that every time they criticized me it damaged my self-esteem. And so, I learned to toughen up, twist my neck, roll my eyes, and scream ‘sticks and stones can break my bones, but your funky little words can’t hurt me.’

However, in the privacy of my bedroom underneath a tear-soaked blanket, I cried. Little did they know, the words that I claimed couldn’t hurt me were the very ones used as a weapon formed against me to destroy my life. Those words hurt more than anyone knew.

The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.

{Proverbs 12:18 NIV}

Conversely, as injurious as words can be, they can also be restorative. And none are more restorative than God’s word. The bible tells us that pleasant words are sweet to the soul and healing to the bones (see Proverbs 16). How sweet it is to hear a kind word after being soured by so many cruel ones!

I can remember, far too often, feeling wounded by some form of criticism that I received as a little girl. During one particular season of my childhood, it seemed as though I was constantly surrounded by people who spoke words that were killing the hopes and dreams of my possibilities. My self-esteem was diminishing. But, I knew a Secret. There was a youth leader who was a member of Mt. Calvary Church where our family attended at the time. Her nickname was Secret, and she always had a kind word for me. I spent a lot of time with her. She was actually the first person who inspired me to go into youth ministry and who motivated me to want to become a good youth leader. She affirmed me. She encouraged me. She listened to me. She talked to me. Her pleasant words were sweet to my 11-year-old soul. Even if only for a few hours, she would make me feel as though the pain of the previous day or week or month was erased and everything was okay in the world. There is a word that can be uttered that will nurse an ailing heart back to health. Words are indeed powerful!

When you grow up in an environment where you are often criticized, it makes you want to shut down or shut up, hoping that it somehow makes you invisible and a less likely target for an explosive word. That’s what I did. I shut down at a very young age. I became the queen of evasion. People just thought I was a quiet or shy little girl. It got to a point where I didn’t even want to talk to anyone any more, much less open up to them and tell them what was going on with me. My relationships became very superficial and shallow. I felt like no one ever knew the real me and, consequently, could never love the real me because no one ever heard what I really had to say. No one listened or paid attention to me. I didn’t express myself. I couldn’t express myself. And because I felt I couldn’t express myself with words, I began to express myself in my attitude and behaviors. This would last through my entire young adulthood – actions replacing words that I longed for someone to hear or see. My tongue could never find the words to articulate what I was feeling. However, my behavior composed a story that my mouth never told. If you could read the pages of my attitude and rebellion, then you would know that I was abused, untrusting of authority figures and afraid of being vulnerable again. If you could read the chapters of my food, alcohol and drug abuse, then you would know that I was neglected and only trying to nurture myself. If you could read the anthologies of my promiscuity and lasciviousness, then you would know that I was exposed too soon, inappropriately handled and utterly confused about my sexuality. I was trying to express myself. They say actions speak louder than words. Well I was screaming, yet no one heard my silent screams. I began to suffocate from the words I held inside.

It wasn’t until I was 17 years old that I realized how therapeutic writing and subsequently words could be. With no one to tell my problems to, I turned to the consolation of my notebook. Over time, I learned who I was, how to express myself, how to love myself and eventually how to love others and receive love in return. I’ve always had an affinity for writing and rhyming. Even as a young girl, I would sometimes write silly lyrics and jingles and raps. I even had a stage name – Nicki T. But, when I started my first serious journal and wrote my initial entry, I discovered something more than words. I discovered freedom and hope. I experienced healing and peace. And, I found my voice.

The poems that follow are a few of my voice recordings. In them you will not only hear the humming of my hurt, but you will also hear the harmony of my healing and the resonance of my renewal. You will find that my song is not that much different from your own and my words are exactly what you wanted to say.

It is my prayer that these words will give sound to your silent screams and ultimately speak hope and life into your spirit. I pray that these words will help you to confront the issues that you try to cover up and shatter the secrecy that often gives power to those feelings of guilt and shame. I pray that these words will help you discover who you really are and assist you in finding your voice. It is my prayer that this book be more than just words!