When St. James famously speaks about taming the tongue, he does so primarily as a warning for those who are presumed to be teaching in the Church. It, of course, has to do with something common to all people, Christian or not, but his dealing with this subject is rooted in those proclaiming the Word of God. He begins by saying, “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness.” He is saying that all people will be judged, all will be held accountable for their actions on Judgement Day, but a teacher will also be held accountable for what he says. He is, therefore, to be judged with greater strictness, not just by his actions but by his words. Did he lead others astray? Did he faithfully proclaim the Word of God? Did he teach his own teachings as those of our Lord? There is greater judgment here, and rightly so. If faith comes by hearing and hearing through the Word, then the one teaching the Word must be held to the highest standard.

Now, this section of James’ epistle is chock full of great images. These illustrations detail both the shocking ability of one’s tongue to have incredible impact on something far bigger than it and also how difficult a tongue is to tame. He speaks about the bit in a horse’s mouth; it easily controls this large, unstoppable beast. Where the head goes, or rather the mouth goes, the whole animal, no matter how big, follows right along. Then he speaks about a boat. Imagine a large ship gliding through the water, and the small rudder easily directs all of it in the stern. These great big things are controlled and directed by such small things. This is like the human tongue; this vehicle that gives shape and definition to the words of man, though small in stature, can have a massive impact. It may lead to victory and promise or just as easily to destruction and failure.

But James does not finish his comparison here. He turns to focus on the untamable wildness of the tongue. Think of a great raging fire. We, living here in Southern California, are well acquainted with the dangers of fire. Fires which begin as a small spark, a careless campfire, a tossed cigarette butt, or a spark from an electrical short soon billow into a monstrosity that threatens homes, lives, and livelihoods, consuming hundreds and thousands of acres. With that image of the leaping flames towering over you, James says, “The tongue is a fire, a world of unrighteousness. The tongue is set among our members, staining the whole body, setting on fire the entire course of life, and set on fire by hell. For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.”

As we hear James rant about the danger and untamable nature of man’s tongue, I believe, for a moment, we are tempted to think he is intentionally hyperbolic. He is overstating the issue to make his point, to wake us up to the dangers of our words. But a part of us, part of each of you, knows full well he is speaking the truth here. You know it because you have been hurt. You have been betrayed. You have been deceived by the words of another. You know the sting of having held onto the words of one who said they loved you, that they cared for you and would be there for you, only to have them act in ways which betray those words. There is a certain helplessness that comes when the actions do not meet the words you have cherished. When there is a disconnect between the work of the tongue and the reality that lies behind it, we are wounded in the deepest of ways.

And though you probably do not want to admit it, you know the truth of what James says because your tongue has proved untamable time and time again. You have used your words to betray, wound, seduce, and get your way. You have spoken things that were not true, words designed only to hurt, only to tear apart another person. You know how with the same mouth, you can sit here and bless our Lord and Father and then turn around and curse those who bear His likeness. And you can do it without thinking all that much about it. Over time, we become unsure of what is spoken by others because we know the deception of our own words. When there is a separation between the word and the truth behind it, we become skeptics. Hearing the words and watching the mouths of the speakers and all the while wondering if they are speaking the truth. Do they mean it? Do they even know what they are saying?

It is like the old joke, “How can you tell when a politician is lying? Their lips are moving.” We do not trust our leaders to speak the truth. We expect them to be misleading and manipulative. These days, the same goes for the media. Words are used to manipulate and control, not proclaim the truth. This skepticism runs rampant, so anything we may not like is dismissed as being untrue. This may be tolerable when we talk about the news, but what happens when we speak this way about those preaching the Word of God? Faith comes by hearing, and the preacher is sent so we may hear the Word, but if there is a disconnect between the words of his mouth and the Truth of God, where does that leave us? Truly, then, the tongue is a fire and a world of unrighteousness, for it not only wounds our hearts and corrupts the soul but leaves us here without assurance.

This is the crux of the issue. It is the reason for James’ urgency and the reason he suggests that not many become teachers. Only one will be perfect in their teaching, only one will never stumble in what He says, and there will be no disconnect between the tongue and the truth it proclaims. But that one is not you, and it is not me. It is and always will be our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the Word made Flesh. He speaks, and it is done. He does not deviate from the truth, and He has done all things well.

So, if Christ is the source, the sure thing, then He is the measure of our faithfulness, the measure of our words. This, I think, is the dynamic of our life together. I remember early one Sunday morning when I was in Georgia, I had gone over my sermon, printed out the Bible Study handouts, and made a cup of coffee when there was a knock on the door near my office. I opened it to find a man asking if I was the pastor. You would think that would have been pretty obvious. I had the magic shirt on and was the only one there. I assumed he needed someone to talk to and assured him I was the pastor and invited him. Before I closed the door, he turned to me and said, “I was just passing by when the Lord laid on me some words for your congregation. He has sent me here to preach to them.” I opened the door back up and said, “No, He didn’t,” and invited him to leave. Now, did God give him a word for us? I do not know, but I was not about to subject God’s flock to this outsider who just popped in on a Sunday morning.

The connection between the Truth and the spoken Word is crucial, and that trust is developed over time. The days of itinerant preachers are over. The proclamation of Christ is weighed and tested by Scripture itself, and this relationship is established through relentless examination. Though the preacher is not perfect, he is reliable, he is careful, and he desires to speak the truth in love at all costs. Then, we begin to experience what we all long for, we begin to know what it feels like to trust again and find comfort and assurance in what is said. His Word guides us to speak as he does, to love and forgive, to heal and strengthen one another. Through our stumbling and broken words, His Word takes flight. And He speaks so clearly and boldly that it echoes in the courts of Heaven itself. He says, “You are forgiven all of your sins. You are My brothers and sisters; you are heirs of eternal life.”