As much as I love words, I know all too well that they come in different shapes and sizes.
Some uplift, exalt, and send you to a place where only love resides.
But still, some have razor sharp edges, and others pierce like daggers right through the skin aiming straight for the heart.
The haunting effects of a simple phrase can hurtle through years and decades, catching up to you in your darkest moments.
These words come out of those who love you so much that they despise you.
Disfiguring as their words may be, the culprit behind the crime can take on disguises so great that you never see the hurt coming again and again.
At first glance, you may think that there is no defense for the blinding effects of this weightless trauma–
You think that there is no shield against these people and their words– these sharpshooters of unbearable pain.
But as you begin to take inventory of your own arsenal, you may find that there, amongst the fallen arrows of your enemy, lay the hollowed remnants of your humility and gracious sensibility.
And maybe they look like they are too soft to repel bullets, too weak to defy sophisticated artillery.
But that is neither the point, nor the focus of the fight.
You see, the point should not be to match your opponent–
Your aim should not be to show him up–
The world does not need more bullets– no, no more guns.
Instead, with a cushioned glove, catch their razor sharp shards of broken glass.
Collect them, put them back together and show them the reflection of the hate they possess.
Catch the haunting echo of their hateful speech and force them to hear just how it sounds.
Hand them back the empty shells that once held their gunfire and let them inhale the aroma of death still inside them.
Only then will they learn how much their words hurt– how close they came to killing you inside.
And even if they don’t change– even if they still don’t understand– live content with the fact that God gave you weapons of MASS PROTECTION– and that the truth will live to haunt and wound them in a unique and special way– a way that will one day serve to also heal them from the inside out.
Know in your heart, they can’t kill you.
Though they always thought they were, God was always in control.
Note: I wrote this for my little cousin, who dealt with racism for the first time this week at the young age of eight years old. My cousin is a beautiful young lady with a bright future ahead of her and I want her to always know that she has something greater than foul words and loathing to fight back with. Of course, she already has an idea of this. This week, she faced hatred head-on, and handled it with immeasurable courage and strength of mind. However, grappling with my own struggles surrounding words that have hurt me, I decided to take to the blog again, to prove that words can heal as well.
When people hurt you– either strangers or loved ones– it is only a reflection of how they feel about their lives and themselves. Sometimes it helps to show them that they are their own problem.