Jacob Glassner

Jennifer Aniston was a pretty big deal in 1997. She was the star of the TV sitcom “Friends” and a style icon—women flocked to salons to get her signature hairstyle, “The Rachel,” which was named after the character she played on TV.

I was a sophomore in college in 1997, and I was surprised when one of my professors asked the class in passing: “Who is this Jennifer Aniston person I keep hearing about?”

I suppose the professor spent most of his time thinking about Yeats and Shakespeare and didn’t have time for pop culture, but my classmates quickly piped up and began telling him all about Aniston.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I added.

With those words, the guy in the desk in front of me turned around and said, “She’s not that great. You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

I didn’t. And his words stung me.

I can’t remember that guy’s name or even whole semesters of college, but I still remember a stupid conversation that happened 15 years ago. I’m not hurt by it anymore and hadn’t thought about it for years, but it just popped in my mind the other day while I was driving.

Words live forever.

That same professor once told us that being published was the path to immortality. For instance, Shakespeare’s words are read by millions of people 400 years after his death. I doubt any of the words I’ve published will last beyond my lifetime—unless someone neglects to change the newspaper in their birdcage for the next 50 years—but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, the words I’ve said will outlive me.

Insensitive or wise, our words will live on in the hearts and minds of the people who heard them. And the real difficulty is that we have no idea what words will stay with people.

We hope our children will remember our pearls of wisdom, but they might just remember the words we fired off when a guy cut us off in traffic. Any thoughtless comment can stay with someone forever.

A friend in grade school once said to me: “Your nostrils flare out when you yawn.” I know this sounds ridiculous, but that stupid remark stuck with me, and I was self-conscious about yawning for a long time.

All this talk of yawning literally just made me yawn. And guess what? My nostrils flared. Everyone’s nostrils flare when they yawn—it’s not an attractive look on anyone—but it took me years to realize that.

Proverbs 18:21 (KJV) says, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”

The old playground mantra should really be this: “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will surely kill me.”

We can speak words of encouragement or spew insults; we can speak truth or tell lies; we can gossip or keep our mouths zipped; we can speak in love or speak in anger.

“All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and sea creatures are being tamed and have been tamed by mankind, but no human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison” (James 3:7-8).

So what are we to do? No human can tame his tongue on his own, but we have a Savior who can. And what does or doesn’t come out of our mouths often is a reflection of what is in our hearts.

Jesus said, “‘A good man brings good things out of the good stored up in his heart, and an evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in his heart. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of’” (Luke 6:45).

This doesn’t mean we are evil if we have slips of the tongue. It’s a daily struggle. But if most of what you say is negative, hurtful or untruthful, you might examine your heart.

And by all means, think before you speak.

I’ve always loved Solomon’s wise insight on tongue control: “Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, and discerning if they hold their tongues” (Proverbs 17:28).

But there’s a whole other side to the story: Words live forever, but only if people keep them alive.

When someone says something hurtful or rude to us, we can choose to hold on to it or let it go. We can take offense and hold a grudge—storing the hurt in our minds for the next 20 years—or we can forgive.

First Corinthians 13 lists the characteristics of love, and one of those is that “it keeps no record of wrongs.”

I don’t know the psychology behind it all, but it seems like humans tend to collect wrongs like baseball cards, stored in neat little binders: “OK, on Rodney’s page, I have three hurtful comments and a lie. For Suzy, I have an angry outburst and a piece of gossip.”

Sometimes we’ll even trade the wrongs with others: “You won’t believe what Suzy said to me the other day.”  

Just let it go. Forgive and forget.

If you have a binder full of hurts, God can take them away. You just have to ask.