A few weeks ago I flew to Tennessee to visit two very close friends. During the trip, we stayed with ones grandparents. I don’t know either very well, but admire them from what I do know. Their granddaughter – one of my friends – had to work Sunday morning, leaving the two of us in the capable hands of her grandparents. They took as to church and introduced us to friends, if unequally – a poor mathematician is just no match for an operatic tenor. On the drive to meet my friend, I sat in the back seat with her grandmother. We began to talk about wit and tongues (not the speaking languages kind, mind you). She made a point to tell me that God has given some – i.e. the two of us – the gift of a sharp tongue. But we aren’t to use it to tear down, but to show mercy to those with whom we speak. Later in our conversation – the ride to my friends office took about 15 minutes, so we were quite efficient with our words – she was telling me a story of a pastor she once knew, one who helped her
Reflections of One Redeemed