Self-Inflicted Wounds
“The tongue is a world of fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.” (James 3:6)
Please, please do not use the phrase “bite your tongue!” around me.
Because I did. Seriously. Eleven days ago I bit a big chunk out of the top middle of my tongue. The few who’ve actually seen it respond with things like, “I had no idea a person could do that to himself” and “It’s shocking.” At the doctor’s office, medical personnel popped in to see because they heard it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
How did it happen? I was driving home from a high school baseball game in Brownwood, enjoying a steak sandwich from Underwood’s as I cruised along hwy 279. And somehow — I’ll never know how; I can’t recreate it — I crunched down on the top of my tongue, digging up a meaty chunk. (Trust me, it’s still worse than you’re envisioning.)
Yesterday, I shared the story with a couple buddies at Highland. I said that the idiotic thing is that it’s a self-inflicted wound. One of my friends, who’d just finished preaching, said, “Nearly all the wounds I’ve ever suffered have been self-inflicted.” We laughed.
Then we realized that this is a good metaphor for Lent. How many of my inner wounds have been self-inflicted?
So now I eagerly wait for my “world of fire” to heal. Supposedly the body will take care of that — while I keep popping Advil and Tylenol, while I keep mumbling words, and while I keep chewing VERY slowly.
Maybe I should skip the steak sandwiches from Underwood’s, you say?
Bite your tongue!
Well, that sounds painful…and you’re right, we are some pretty self-destructive creatures.
Yesterday I had a five-year old level conversation with my daughter about the choice between reading a story or playing a round of Uno before bed…because we’ll only do one or the other and she needs to learn how to think about the choices she makes and the consequences of those choices.
Had we known (gave thought to) the consequences (wounds) of many choices, would we have still made them?
No picture?
Mental picture is more than sufficient for me.
Hope your healing is rapid and pain-free.
Ouch! Sorry to hear, Mike. We have a member here at Calhoun Church who did the same (probably not as severe). He says it’s miserable.
As a twist on the self-inflicted, I once heard an old man say, “Most of my education has been self-inflicted.” I can identify.
Blessings and hope you’re well soon (before Tulsa Workshop!)
Keith
I’ve heard of “biting the hand that feeds you.” In the case of a preacher, would this be biting the tongue that feeds you?
Ouch! Does it make talking funny? I bite my tongue every now and then but not severely. I did once slip on the ice as a kid and stick the top of my tongue on the ice, pulling of the top when I got up. Though I was in elemetary school I still remember it hurting a great deal. May the Lord heal you quickly, Kent
I keep debating whether self-inflicted wounds are worse than being hurt by someone you know and love. It is bad having no one to blame, though.
I do think it’s near certain that one thing that is worse than a regular old self-inflicted wound is a repetitive self-inflicted wound. I bet that tongue hurts bad now, but if you chomp on it hard again this week…there ain’t enough advil in the world.
Oh my! Here’s hoping you heal quickly…I’d hate for you to have to lip synch at Tulsa!
OOOOUUUUCCHH! No wonder you were giving out waves from afar Sunday rather than a hug and “HI”.
Seriously, may you heal quickly.
Also, dear friend – and aside and OT – may I make a corrective edit to your public tweet 20 hours ago? Our local Rep. called out, according to my ears at the time he yelled it out, said, “IT’S a baby killer.” IMHO, referring to the bill itself, not anyone in particular, but to certain sections in the bill, and I must agree with him.
Wow… so many comments that could be made…
My tongue’s been hurting ever since I read this yesterday. Thanks, Mike.
Hope your tongue gets its groove back…….
Thanks for the compassion. I’m going to be heading to Tulsa with a flapping tongue.