It is a bitter thing to be eaten up by a gossip’s tongue when you are simply trying to do your work. The whisperings, the little stabs that come when your back is turned, the daily sense of being made a target, it can wear a soul very thin. I hear the weariness in your words, and I do not wonder that you have cried out for prayer. You have done well to seek the help of God’s people, for even the great apostle Paul, with all his gifts and graces, begged the humblest saints to strive together with him in their prayers. He felt his deep need of those unknown voices lifted up on his behalf, and so may you. So let us sit down together a moment with your trouble, and turn our eyes toward the Lord, who is a very present help in time of trouble.
I think your present trial is very like what the old enemy loves to do with the wheat. He gets a child of God into his great sieve, and then he shakes that sieve up and down, to and fro, till not a single grain can rest. That is what he is doing with you just now, using that young woman’s loose talk to keep your whole being in agitation. You hardly get a quiet hour, for you wonder what will be said next, what new report is flying. Yet hear this sweet truth: before ever the sieve began to shake you, your Lord Jesus had prayed for you. He sat at the Father’s side and said, “I pray for him; I pray for her.” He saw the sifting that was coming, and He asked, not that you might be carried out of it, but that your faith might not fail. He has not left you. He is not unmoved. On the contrary, He is nearer to you now than in the calm days, and His eternal intercession is a pillow for your tired head.
Perhaps you have wished to be taken out of that place altogether, to find a new post where nobody speaks ill of you, where the air is sweet and the burdens light. The wish is natural. But it may be that for this season your Lord has stationed you exactly where you are, for He once prayed, “I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil.” He does not always take us out of the painful spot, but He will keep us while we are in it. The same hand that holds the stars holds you, and no slander can truly harm what God has hedged about. You are immortal till your work is done. Stand still, then, and see the salvation of God.
Now, about this rash talk that pours upon you like hailstones on a tender plant. Remember that the Prince of Peace is your Lord, and He can give you peace in the very midst of the uproar. True peace is not a bird that flies away the moment a stone is thrown; it is a deep, settled thing that comes from doing the will of Jesus. When you are pressed by thronging duties and then this trouble rushes in on top of it all, ask yourself, “What would Jesus have me do?” Speak gently. Do not repay evil for evil. Tend to your work as unto Him, and leave the outcome in His hands. What you cannot mend, leave to the Great Physician. What you cannot silence, leave to the One who stills the raging of the sea. You will find that as you commit your cause to Him, a strange quietness begins to grow, even when the noise outside does not cease.
When you go to your private prayers, turn your face straight toward Jesus Christ. He is the true Mercy Seat, the living Temple. Not eastward, not westward, but Christward. Tell Him everything, every sharp word, every wounded feeling, every flash of resentment you are ashamed of. He can forgive the irritation that rises against your will, and He can pour in the oil of His own gentleness. And be sure to take a promise with you as you leave your knees. The poor Canaanite woman had no written word at all, yet she clung to Christ till she won her blessing. You have a whole Book of words! You can carry in your pocket something like this: “When a man’s ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him.” Or, “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.” Lay a promise like that upon your tongue the moment the next blow strikes, and let it be a shield.
And now, let me pray with you, as you have asked.
Lord Jesus, we bring before Thee a servant of Thine who is daily buffeted by a harsh tongue and a bitter spirit. Thou knowest how the wicked slander cuts, and how the heart is wearied by ceaseless strife. We ask Thee now to speak peace to this troubled soul. Calm the storm, O Thou who didst once say, “Peace, be still,” and the wind ceased. Keep our dear friend from returning evil for evil, from falling into the trap of bitterness, and from the inward wounds that fester. If it be Thy will, put a bridle upon the lips of the accuser, or open a door into a wider place; but above all these things, give the peace that the world cannot give, the peace that comes from knowing that Thou art at the helm. Cause Thy face to shine, and Thy child shall be light, even in a dark room. Amen.