I was born loud. I talk loud, laugh loud, yell loud, whisper loud, breathe loud. You do not need a P.A. system in order to find me in a crowd; I will be the one loudly addressing the public—whether they like it or not.
But loud is just a curse of volume. It’s the content that gets you into trouble, especially if you think you are funny. A couple coronations to “Class Clown” —in both Junior High and High School—and it was conferred upon me that I was, in fact, the zany spawn of Barnum and Bailey.
Enter, foot. With all of this comic wordiness spilling out of the mouth of Clown Brown, odds were that it would only be a matter of time until I would desperately need a podiatrist, and frequently! You could bet on it!
Another apt metaphor for this “open mouth, insert foot” instructive comes from the dental hygiene community: Before you know it, your nonsense of humor squeezes out irretrievable tooth paste that splatters all over the recipient, masking them in a dripping, oozing white paste of quickly-hardening humiliation and shame. No taking back words with tube refills!
I remember one morning when I was in high school after a disastrous “Colgate moment” the day before when I swallowed my foot whole, I determined to switch personalities. From that moment on, I was no longer going to be the life (or death!) of the party, but rather, I was going to be a soft-spoken, thoughtful, quiet, shy flower on a wall. A complete reversal of God’s DNA with my mouth shut and feet firmly planted on the floor.
I lasted an hour.
So what does one do with all of the carcasses in his verbal wake over a lifetime of talking?
The Bible has a few booster shots of its own aimed at puncturing and inoculating this question—heavenly Novocain injected into oral cavities. Or, for any self-made or would-be comedians out there—like carnival bean bags being tossed into the opened mouth of a plywood painted clown.
Here are just a few aspects addressed along the boardwalk of Holy Writ:
Coarse joking: “Have you heard the one about…?”
Taking God’s name in vain: I swear!
Table manners: Speech seasoned with salt and grace.
Forked tongues: Both flattering and encouraging speech.
Smoked Bear: Tongues not able to prevent forest fires.
But the best reminder for those of us “fearfully and wonderfully made” with the propensity to yakety yak from insult to injury, comes from a fireside chat, way up in the mountains, some 3,400 years ago. God is telling Moses He is going to use him to “let His people go” from Egyptian slavery, while Moses is absently throwing pinecones into a burning bush. Trying to squirm out of the proposal, Moses informs God. He stammers that he is a non-eloquent speaker and therefore disqualified. Then God, the Giver of mouths, informs Moses. The literal Hebrew translation of His reply in Exodus 4:12 is “I will be with your mouth.” Wait a minute! Can you repeat that?
“I will be with your mouth.”
Class Clowns rejoice! From Freudian slips to faux pas, from hurting words to sticks and stones breaking bones, from a way with words to the gift of gab, “God will be with your mouth!” The only thing we have to do is…let Him in! For “motor mouths” like me, this is easier said than done. So try this,
“Just say ‘awe’!”
Brad Brown lives with the wife of his youth for 40 years, Cindy, on three acres in Franktown, Colorado, surrounded by dogs, cats, ducks, goats, and chickens. With their entire family close by - including four grandchildren - you never know when the family will drop by and add to the fun. He is the author of “The Four ‘Seasons’ of Our Father’s Evangelical Church” series.
This is one of my favorites! 👏