The Power of Our Words

The Power of Our Words

““For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.” ‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭55‬:‭10‬-‭11‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God’s Word is never wasted. Every word He speaks accomplishes its purpose to convict, comfort, or call His people back to Himself. That divine truth holds a mirror up to us. The words we speak also carry purpose and power. They go out, they land somewhere, and they either build up or tear down.

James writes, “If anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body” (James 3:2). Our speech is not just a reflection of our thoughts—it’s a measure of our spiritual maturity. Like God’s Word, our words have consequence. They will not return void.

James warns that “the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things” (James 3:5). With it, we bless God and curse people made in His image. The same tongue that can speak blessing can also unleash destruction.

“but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so.”‭‭ James‬ ‭3‬:‭8‬-‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Our words, once spoken, take on a life of their own. They go out like arrows that cannot be called back. Words of encouragement bring healing. Words of bitterness or pride pierce and scar.

Even words of correction and admonishment—when done rightly—should aim at redemption, not destruction. Discipline and rebuke have their place, but their godly purpose is always restoration. In parenting, discipline is meant to train, not humiliate. In friendships and church life, correction should invite repentance, not rejection.

What do these corrective examples have in common? They take place in covenant relationships—places where love, trust, and accountability exist. Within these relationships, the roots are deep enough to bear the weight of truth.

In covenant relationships like family, marriage, and church, gentle correction protects love and preserves unity. But outside of those relationships, when words of correction are loosed, they often wound instead of heal.

Political discourse, for example, has a role in a democratic society, but it’s not a covenantal one. The purpose there is to challenge ideas, not shepherd souls. When we take the tone of a parent correcting a child or a pastor confronting sin and apply it to strangers or opponents in the political theater, the outcome is rarely positive.

Social media magnifies this danger and offers near endless opportunity to offend. It tempts us to speak quickly, harshly, and thoughtlessly to people we don’t know and with whom we share no relational capital. The distance between hearts and screens makes it easy to forget the image of God on the other side. The result can be eroded trust and damaged testimony

James offers us a better way: “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.” James‬ ‭3:17-18

The words we send out carry power, so let them carry this kind of wisdom. Let them sow peace and not strife. Before we speak, before we post, before we correct—let’s ask:

1. Will these words accomplish the purpose of peace or pride?
2. Do I have the relationship to say this in love?
3. Am I speaking as a minister of reconciliation or merely as a critic?
   

Every word we speak goes somewhere. Every word we send out bears fruit. May ours, like God’s, never return void—but instead accomplish what is good, redemptive, and true.

Stewardship for Our Posterity: A Call to Conserve Our Natural Resources

 

When America’s Founding Fathers set forth the principles of our nation, they carefully chose words that would echo across generations. Thomas Jefferson’s immortal phrase that we are “endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” still stirs the soul. These rights were not imagined as fleeting privileges, but enduring truths meant to be secured not only for the present but also, as the Constitution’s preamble declares, “to ourselves and our posterity.”

The very word “posterity” reminds us that our decisions ripple beyond our lifetime. What we do with the blessings of this land shapes the quality of life our children and grandchildren will inherit. Therefore, natural resource conservation is not a secondary concern but central to preserving the rights Jefferson identified. Without clean water, fertile soil, and breathable air, “life” is diminished. Without open access to healthy lands, “liberty” is constrained. Finally, without sustainable abundance through natural resources, the “pursuit of happiness” is hindered.

Though the Founding Fathers did not use the word “conservation,” they understood the critical role of land and resources in sustaining our nation. George Washington, a farmer and surveyor, once wrote, “A people who are possessed of the spirit of commerce, who are engaged in the cultivation of the soil, and who are dependent on their own resources, must be great and happy.” The early republic was deeply agricultural, and the vitality of its soil, forests, and rivers was inseparable from the vitality of the nation.

Benjamin Franklin warned of the shortsightedness of overuse, noting in his Poor Richard’s Almanac that “he that plows too much, harrows in vain.” This phrase underscored that exploitation ultimately leads to loss, while moderation secures lasting benefit. Jefferson, in his Notes on the State of Virginia, exalted the farmer as the backbone of the republic, not because of mere productivity, but because of the virtuous relationship between steward and land.

The Founders spoke often of liberty, but liberty has always had responsibility as its companion. The land was a trust, given to each generation, not to consume recklessly but to sustain wisely.

Long before America’s founding, Scripture defined humanity’s responsibility to conserve creation. In Genesis 1:28, God blessed mankind and commanded them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”

The word subdue has often been misinterpreted as license to dominate without restraint. But biblical theology makes clear that the earth is the Lord’s (Psalm 24:1), not ours. We are tenants, not ultimate owners. Adam’s original calling was not to strip the garden but to “work it and keep it” (Genesis 2:15). This Hebrew pairing implies both use and protection: to cultivate for productivity and to preserve for continuity.

This balance is critical. The Creator endowed the earth with resources intended for human flourishing. We have timber for homes, soil for crops, waters for refreshment, minerals for progress. But these gifts were never meant to be squandered. They are held in trust. To abuse them is not merely to sin against the land, but to sin against the Creator and to rob future generations of their rightful inheritance.

In fact, there is a paradox in human ownership. Every title deed, every plot of land, every mineral lease is a temporary reality. As the Psalmist wrote, “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein” (Psalm 24:1). What we “own” is, in truth, only borrowed. One day it will pass to another.

To own something that will always eventually belong to someone else is to embrace the idea of stewardship over possession. That mindset changes everything. If we are stewards, then we must ask, what condition will we leave our fields, our forests, our rivers, and our air in? Will our children inherit depleted soil and polluted streams, or will they inherit abundance, resilience, and beauty? Will they inherit life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness God intended these resources to be stewarded toward?

Edmund Burke, often called the father of modern conservatism said, “Society is a partnership… not only between those who are living, but between those who are dead, and those who are to be born.” True ownership is generational responsibility.

Conservation is not merely an environmental issue. It is a civic and moral duty! The unalienable rights enshrined in America’s founding documents cannot be secured apart from the stewardship of the land that sustains them. A degraded environment erodes liberty just as surely as political tyranny by limiting the opportunities and health of those who come after us.

This understanding fueled the great conservation movements of later generations. President Theodore Roosevelt, inspired by both patriotism and stewardship, declared, “Of all the questions which can come before this nation, short of the actual preservation of its existence in a great war, there is none which compares in importance with the great central task of leaving this land even a better land for our descendants than it is for us.” Roosevelt’s vision of national parks, forests, and wildlife refuges was rooted in the enduring principle of stewardship for posterity.  

In our time, there are great challenges. We face deforestation, climate pressures, soil depletion, water scarcity, invasive species, and biodiversity loss. Yet the principle remains unchanged. Conservation is not about halting progress or freezing nature untouched. It is about wise use. It is about subduing the earth by understanding its ecosystems, working with The Creator’s rhythms, and ensuring resilience.

Christians especially must recover the biblical call to stewardship. To conserve is not a political act. It is an act of obedience. To waste, pollute, or exploit without care is to betray the very first task God gave humanity. To conserve, cultivate, and renew is to honor the Creator and love our neighbors, present and future.

The Founding Fathers called on us to secure liberty and happiness for our posterity. Scripture calls us to steward creation as tenants of the Lord. Both voices together remind us that to squander resources is to rob our children. Conversely, to steward them is to extend life, liberty, and happiness across generations.

The test of our generation will be whether we embrace the paradox of ownership—that what we hold is not ultimately ours. The land, the waters, the forests, and the air will one day belong to another. We can either pass them along diminished or enriched.

As Psalm 145:4 declares, “One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts.” May our stewardship be one of those mighty acts. May we be remembered not as consumers, but as caretakers. May we be remembered as those who secured the blessings of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness by preserving the very foundations on which they rest. May we be remembered as faithfully executing the creation mandate “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”

 

I said to my soul... Wait without hope

 Is there anything more agonizing in life than waiting? It is one of the most common themes in the book of the Psalms. "How long, O lord?" is a common refrain. When we are younger the waiting is usually quickly satisfied... "How long till we get there?" "When are we going to eat?".  With age, the questions get more difficult and the waiting is sometimes LONG and agonizing. Waiting for the wayward child, waiting for the next career promotion, waiting, waiting, waiting, and then some more waiting.

When I was in college, I faced my first LONG encounter with waiting and uncertainty. As I look back on it now, I realize I made a much bigger deal out of it than it deserved, but that's how life works. During that period, I dove into some deep philosophical books on the subject, but it was ultimately a poem that spoke to me in the most impactful way and I have referenced this poem many times in my life..

“I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope, for hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, but the faith and the love are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.” TS Elliot from East Coker

In a previous blog post I talked about how integral faith hope and love are to a meaningful existence and there is deep scriptural truth to that concept. "wait without hope" is a reminder that our hopes need to be examined to be sure that they are properly placed. Hoping in the wrong things or putting too much hope in a particular thing only adds more agony and struggle to the waiting. The same concept is true if our Love is misplaced. We can love the wrong things too much and agony upon agony sets in. So, our faith, hope, and love are all purified in the process of waiting.... IF we use the opportunity to evaluate our hopes and love and reset them.

"Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought." In periods of waiting, we can drive ourselves crazy examining scenarios and trying to make sense of things we have no control over. Peace in times of waiting isn't found by understanding all the machinations going on around us but rather in just being still.. Get comfortable with the darkness. Get comfortable in the not knowing and dance in the stillness! There is freedom there!

Be still and know that he is God...

Faith, Hope, and Love...

In a recent visit with my pastor, we were talking through the struggles and life changes Sondra and I are facing: my job transition (difficult), Sondra's dad passing away (awful), Jay getting married (yippee—but a big change), Josie moving off to college (jury's still out), and a few other things. It has been a lot to cram into a six-week period, to say the least.

I could go on and on about each of these challenges, but that’s not really the point here.

As we processed everything together, Matt asked me a simple question: “How can I help?” Just this morning, I found myself asking a friend who is facing a very difficult life trial that exact same question. It’s an easy question to ask, but a difficult one to answer. My typical response is: “Just pray.” And that’s a good answer—prayer matters—but it often doesn’t feel specific or comforting in the moment.

But this time, I believe the Holy Spirit brought something else to mind—1 Corinthians 13:13:

“And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

This verse is often quoted to emphasize the superiority of love over all things. But I think it’s easy to gloss over the vital importance of faith and hope. Paul wasn’t trying to diminish them—he was elevating love in comparison to two other great virtues. After all, love can only be the greatest when compared to other truly great things.

So, my answer this time was this: You can give me faith, hope, and love.

Faith can be exercised on behalf of others—through prayer, through encouragement from God’s Word, and by believing that God is at work even when things feel hopeless. Hope can be something we hold out for others when their own hope seems gone. And truthfully, I don’t think we can love others well unless we also have faith and hope. When faith is lost and hope is gone, what is left but to mourn the loss and try to move on?

Now think about love without faith and hope. What can motivate love to act in the absence of faith and hope. Earlier in the chapter, Paul vividly describes what a life of faith looks like without love—it’s empty, noisy, and ultimately fruitless. But can we really have hope without faith? Paul’s statement that “these three remain” shows the essential nature of all three virtues working together. And if we have faith, hope, and love—what more do we truly need, no matter what life throws our way? Our existence is complete so long as we have these three things.

“The greatest of these is love” shows us that faith and hope are made visible in the way we love others—and in how we allow others to love us. These three are beautifully interwoven. Their symbiotic nature is what helps us live whole, healthy lives—within our families, our churches, our workplaces, and our communities.

So we pray:

Lord, may our lives be filled with these three things—faith, hope, and love.

Poppy

 A couple of years ago, my dear friend Greg Beadles turned me on to Michael Hyatt's life planning resource. At the outset of the planning guide, Hyatt states "A good plan starts with the end in mind." That is true whether you are building a house or taking a road trip. You must define your destination.

On July 4, my dear father-in-law, Louis Eubanks (Poppy), went home to be with the Lord. When he was on his death bed I expressed desires to Sondra to do his funeral message, but the Lord changed my mind to just observe and what I observed taught me more than I could've learned or imparted in preparing a 20 minute tribute.

It started as we brought him home from the hospital to spend his last few days in his home (our home) and the house was FILLED with prayers, food, well-wishers, and lovers of Poppy. In our home —surrounded by family, friends, and so many people whose lives had been touched by Poppy—I saw the kind of ending worth aiming for.

It was not an ending marked by applause, recognition, or great wealth. But a legacy. A life that left a mark.

My eyes were further opened at the viewing and funeral services. What a crowd!! I heard too many kind words to count—stories about how he served, loved, encouraged, and just showed up. Stories from Sunday School classes, ballfields, hospital rooms, classrooms, and quiet moments of friendship. It gave me a fresh vision for what I hope my own life can be.

Poppy lived simply and faithfully—and in doing so, he shaped the lives of everyone around him. He left a mark.

He showed me a great end to aim for. And for that, I’m deeply grateful.