Silas
Beloved of All
Your prayer reaches deep into the very struggle we all know too well. The tongue, that small member, reveals what is truly inside us. And you have named it honestly: the times words flew from a heart mixed with pride, pain, or anger, words that even if true lacked love and forgot the humility of Christ. An honest, negative confession is far better than a false front of piety when the heart trembles. So I thank God for your raw honesty before Him.
The ache to be done with all future sin, to push a button and delete every stumble before it happens, is an ache born of a renewed heart. But such a button does not exist for us in this life, and that is itself a mercy, because it forces us back again and again to the only source of true strength. Paul begged three times for a thorn to be removed, and Jesus answered, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness.” The Lord brings us to the end of ourselves, even to a crippling sense of helplessness, so that every drop of hope transfers to Him who raises the dead. That is not a design flaw; it is the architecture of our salvation. When I am weak, then I am strong, because the power of Christ rests on me in the very place of my failure.
You mention the tongue. No human being can tame it. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison, capable of defiling the whole body and setting the whole course of life on fire. And yet the same tongue can bless our Lord and Father, and with it we can speak words that are a tree of life, healing and comforting others. The paradox is maddening apart from grace. Out of the same mouth come blessing and cursing. I have said things in a moment of anger that I would have given anything to take back. How we need the Spirit to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves, to bring this little member under control, to make us slow to anger, to give us a smooth, even disposition that is not easily provoked.
The anger that rises in us when we are wounded or threatened is so often that anger of man that does not achieve the righteousness of God. That is the anger you have confessed: a mixture of emotions, speaking out of unrighteous emotions rather than considering others as more important. There is a place for anger that is not sinful, anger at evil, at injustice, at the hardness that would block the work of God, but how easily our own hidden pride and hurts twist even righteous indignation into something that grieves the Holy Spirit. So we put away all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking, and we put on tender mercies, kindness, humility.
This is not passive. Jacob, facing the brother whose anger he feared, took action. He sent gifts ahead, he wrestled in prayer until he was broken and halting. God brought him to a place of utter weakness, and then the fearful meeting with Esau turned not into recrimination but into embrace, tears, and forgiveness. Our God is gracious and compassionate, and He delights to take our crippled frame and demonstrate His power through it. That is how, by faith, from weakness we are made strong.
So take the words you have spoken in confession and keep turning them toward the Lord. “Take away all iniquity, and receive us graciously.” In your private place of prayer, pour out your heart. The Spirit helps us in our weakness, even interceding with groanings too deep for words. There is a gift of utterance given to build up your own spirit, an intimate language between you and God that no one else understands, mysteries spoken in the Spirit. And when you are alone with Him, use your tongue in its highest capacity: to bless God, to praise the Father who adopted you. With the tongue we bless our Lord; this is the beautiful opposite of the cursing that defiles.
Remember that confession is not a solitary thing. You have obeyed the teaching to confess your sins to one another and pray for one another that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous, offered in faith, is powerful and effective. As you boast in your weaknesses, as you share your struggles with trusted fellow believers, you find that the healing of the land begins with the humbling of the people called by His name. Honest confession opens the way for mercy, cleansing, and the strengthening that comes through the body of Christ.
The goal of all this discipline, though it is never pleasant at the moment but rather seems like grief, is a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. You are not left to sink. The very trial that sends you crying out produces perseverance, proven character, an abiding hope that will not disappoint. God intends it all for good. He is the architect of your salvation, perfecting the Author of our faith through suffering, so that from His fullness we all receive grace upon grace.
One day every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Already tonight you bow your knee and you confess with your tongue that He is Lord over your weaknesses, your words, your anger. That confession itself is the work of the Spirit, and it is to the glory of God. Continue in that posture, abiding in the Vine, letting His words abide in you. Yield your tongue afresh to Him who took the coals from the altar and touched the mouth of the prophet, and say with the psalmist, “It was good for me to be afflicted, that I might learn your statutes.” He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. His grace is enough, right now, for you.
The ache to be done with all future sin, to push a button and delete every stumble before it happens, is an ache born of a renewed heart. But such a button does not exist for us in this life, and that is itself a mercy, because it forces us back again and again to the only source of true strength. Paul begged three times for a thorn to be removed, and Jesus answered, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness.” The Lord brings us to the end of ourselves, even to a crippling sense of helplessness, so that every drop of hope transfers to Him who raises the dead. That is not a design flaw; it is the architecture of our salvation. When I am weak, then I am strong, because the power of Christ rests on me in the very place of my failure.
You mention the tongue. No human being can tame it. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison, capable of defiling the whole body and setting the whole course of life on fire. And yet the same tongue can bless our Lord and Father, and with it we can speak words that are a tree of life, healing and comforting others. The paradox is maddening apart from grace. Out of the same mouth come blessing and cursing. I have said things in a moment of anger that I would have given anything to take back. How we need the Spirit to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves, to bring this little member under control, to make us slow to anger, to give us a smooth, even disposition that is not easily provoked.
The anger that rises in us when we are wounded or threatened is so often that anger of man that does not achieve the righteousness of God. That is the anger you have confessed: a mixture of emotions, speaking out of unrighteous emotions rather than considering others as more important. There is a place for anger that is not sinful, anger at evil, at injustice, at the hardness that would block the work of God, but how easily our own hidden pride and hurts twist even righteous indignation into something that grieves the Holy Spirit. So we put away all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking, and we put on tender mercies, kindness, humility.
This is not passive. Jacob, facing the brother whose anger he feared, took action. He sent gifts ahead, he wrestled in prayer until he was broken and halting. God brought him to a place of utter weakness, and then the fearful meeting with Esau turned not into recrimination but into embrace, tears, and forgiveness. Our God is gracious and compassionate, and He delights to take our crippled frame and demonstrate His power through it. That is how, by faith, from weakness we are made strong.
So take the words you have spoken in confession and keep turning them toward the Lord. “Take away all iniquity, and receive us graciously.” In your private place of prayer, pour out your heart. The Spirit helps us in our weakness, even interceding with groanings too deep for words. There is a gift of utterance given to build up your own spirit, an intimate language between you and God that no one else understands, mysteries spoken in the Spirit. And when you are alone with Him, use your tongue in its highest capacity: to bless God, to praise the Father who adopted you. With the tongue we bless our Lord; this is the beautiful opposite of the cursing that defiles.
Remember that confession is not a solitary thing. You have obeyed the teaching to confess your sins to one another and pray for one another that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous, offered in faith, is powerful and effective. As you boast in your weaknesses, as you share your struggles with trusted fellow believers, you find that the healing of the land begins with the humbling of the people called by His name. Honest confession opens the way for mercy, cleansing, and the strengthening that comes through the body of Christ.
The goal of all this discipline, though it is never pleasant at the moment but rather seems like grief, is a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. You are not left to sink. The very trial that sends you crying out produces perseverance, proven character, an abiding hope that will not disappoint. God intends it all for good. He is the architect of your salvation, perfecting the Author of our faith through suffering, so that from His fullness we all receive grace upon grace.
One day every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. Already tonight you bow your knee and you confess with your tongue that He is Lord over your weaknesses, your words, your anger. That confession itself is the work of the Spirit, and it is to the glory of God. Continue in that posture, abiding in the Vine, letting His words abide in you. Yield your tongue afresh to Him who took the coals from the altar and touched the mouth of the prophet, and say with the psalmist, “It was good for me to be afflicted, that I might learn your statutes.” He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. His grace is enough, right now, for you.
