KELSIE PETERSEN
“…And God said…” These three words are probably among the most well-known phrases in the Bible. Repeated nine times in Genesis 1, God’s simple act of speaking brings the world into existence and fills it with life. Throughout the rest of the Scriptures, we see example after example of God SPEAKING to the characters within its pages. We have the written Word of God in our hands today, but it shows clear evidence of the importance God placed, over the generations, on speaking, and speaking aloud.
About a week ago, I noticed that I was feeling agitated, irritable. I felt isolated and disconnected. Every word that came out of my mouth, it seemed, was coated in frustration. The realization seemed only to serve to make me more frustrated. As the day wore on, my kids wandered outside to play, and I had a sudden desire to call a friend I haven’t spoken to in quite a while. We speak by text message regularly, but since we both have young children, voice or video chat isn’t often possible. I checked in, and in a rare happenstance, her kids were out of the house as well, so I dialed her number. We chatted for a few minutes before one (or more) of my kids came inside with some malady or another, and while we managed a bit more conversation through my chaos, it was soon time to say “goodbye.”
After the kids were in bed that evening, I was thinking about how much better I felt after having had that phone conversation. We hadn’t talked about anything heavy or pressing; it wasn’t a friend-therapy session. We just talked. We listened. I realized that part of my previous irritation was that I had spent the past several days “stuck in my head,” where my only real, out-loud conversation was with my kids. I’d gotten caught up in some projects at home, and some work I’m doing for a friend, and those circumstances have resulted in a lot of my days being spent either communicating exclusively by text or email, or just communicating parentally with my kids. There has not been a lot of “talking” was happening.
This experience reminded me of a live video a few months back, broadcast by someone I respect, who has been speaking out about other issues in which I am interested. He made the point that while writing is powerful (and it is), there is an importance to SPOKEN words. I don’t know exactly what it is, and I promise you I can’t explain it all here, but there is something that happens for us humans when we speak, and when we hear, audible words.
…it does seem to me that a spoken word can have an ability to connect, an ability to make connections in our brains, that written words cannot always do.
Now, please don’t hear me saying I believe we can speak things into existence, or somehow “manifest” with our words. But, it does seem to me that a spoken word can have an ability to connect, an ability to make connections in our brains, that written words cannot always do. I am reminded of the great authors C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien who used to meet in an English pub with other literary friends, and they would spend hours—talking. The ideas, the stories, the thoughts that came out of those conversations we will never know (in their entirety), but I’m sure those evenings contributed to the greatness of the literary works many know and enjoy today.
I don’t know about you, but two years of pandemic life got me “used” to a lot of “keeping my mouth closed.” I might have typed a lot. I scrolled a lot. I thought a lot. But I talked less (no clever remarks, please, from anyone reading this who might have known me well in pre-pandemic years, particularly my younger years). I think we all did. Of course, listening more would be a good thing, but if we were all talking less, what was there to hear?
Now that I’m out and about more, I find myself feeling (a lot ) more socially awkward than I did two years ago. I’m not sure what to say to people; I’m not sure if they WANT me to say anything. I feel somewhat disconnected from humanity, on the whole, even though I’ve been “connected” the whole time, if only mainly through written words.
I’m reminded again of the importance of fellowship, of human connection. “Well,” you might say, “you’re a true extrovert. I could stay home all day, all week, all year, and it wouldn’t bother me.” While that may be true, I might argue that it’s no more “good” for a person to be alone all day, all week, all year, than it is for me to talk for an entire day, an entire week, or an entire year! I’ll be honest, the past two years of severely decreased human contact has even left me, the extrovert, feeling a little cautious and less enthusiastic about “making contact” with people. However, we humans are complex creations, and while some of us may be more inclined in a certain direction, we need all need both solitude and personal interactions.
Our tech-driven world, once criticized for allowing us to “hide” behind keyboards, has now opened up to allow us to see and observe the world. We were able to “go” to church while sitting on the couch in our comfortable house clothes. We could type in the live chat and say “hello” to others. But was it the same?
I was told this week, again, that Christians don’t “need” church, because they can be with God anywhere, and communing with God in nature was the closest one could get to Him. While I wouldn’t disagree that we can be with God anywhere, one of the gifts He has given us is each other—fellow people, fellow believers. I can’t help but smile a bit when I think of an opportunity to sit and speak with someone, or to listen to someone talk.
The world has changed so much in the past two years. Some of the changes seem so “normal” now, we can hardly remember what it was like before they came to be. In the past, things like video meetings and live-streamed events and church services were possible but not the “norm.” As our world moves on, in many ways, these things have become an equally viable option for a lot of us. Many people have learned that they prefer to work from home, if possible. Grocery ordering and pickup, once more of a novelty, is now something almost all of us have done, and many of us continue to do. While all of these virtual tasks have their upsides, I think about what they have cost us. While they have opened up doors for “connection” on one side, they have closed doors for connection of a different kind. We have grown accustomed to missed conversations—missed connections.
I think of how Jesus communicated with his disciples and with the people He taught. He didn’t isolate Himself and write them letters.
I think of how Jesus communicated with his disciples and with the people He taught. He didn’t isolate Himself and write them letters (although the thought of Jesus sending Peter a text message is entertaining). His words were spoken directly to them, and theirs to Him. The early believers met TOGETHER. They spoke with one another. They looked each other in the eye. They sat next to one another. I’m so glad for the technology and tools that allow us to see and hear those we are unable to sit with, but the past two years have taught me it is no replacement for the real thing!
The morning after the “no good, very bad, awful” day I spoke of earlier, I went for an early morning walk by myself. One might think this was counterintuitive, given my revelations about the importance of speaking out loud. However, I took my phone with me, and I recorded a video that I wasn’t sure I would ever share. I planned it partly as an experiment, and partly “just in case” I decided I wanted to share my thoughts later on. The contents were somewhat similar to what I’ve written here, and given the topic, making a written post seemed somehow inappropriate and insufficient. In the end, I decided to post it for my “friends” on social media to see. I was worried it would look like some sort of attention grab, a “poor me” story of my bad day, but instead, I was met with responses of thanks for putting into (spoken) words what others had been feeling.
Our world is craving connection. Our fellow believers are craving connection. They are craving words. The past two years have changed how we interact with one another, how we communicate, but they haven’t changed the importance of our voices, of our words. I’m grateful that I was reminded this past week that spoken words still matter. Our spoken words can bring hope and life to those around us. I’m making it my aim to remember that fact in the coming weeks and months. †
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