**The Tale of the Tongue: A Story Inspired by James 3**
In the bustling city of Ephesus, nestled along the western coast of Asia Minor, there lived a man named Eliab. He was a respected elder in the local synagogue, known for his wisdom and eloquence. Eliab had a gift for teaching, and many would gather to hear him expound on the Scriptures. Yet, despite his outward piety, Eliab struggled with a hidden flaw—one that even he did not fully understand. It was the power of his tongue.
One warm evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city, Eliab sat in his courtyard with a group of fellow believers. They had come to discuss the teachings of James, the brother of Jesus, whose letter had recently been circulated among the churches. The passage they were studying was James 3, which spoke of the tongue as a small but mighty force, capable of both great good and great harm.
Eliab cleared his throat and began to read aloud: *”Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. For we all stumble in many ways. And if anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body.”*
As he read, Eliab felt a pang of conviction. He thought of the times he had spoken harshly to his wife in moments of frustration, or the careless words he had uttered about a fellow elder, words that had spread like wildfire through the congregation. He continued reading, his voice steady but his heart heavy: *”When we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we guide their whole bodies as well. Look at the ships also: though they are so large and are driven by strong winds, they are guided by a very small rudder wherever the will of the pilot directs. So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things.”*
The group listened intently, their faces reflecting the weight of the words. One of the younger men, a carpenter named Josiah, spoke up. “Eliab, how can something so small have such power? It seems impossible that our words could cause so much damage—or so much good.”
Eliab nodded thoughtfully. “Consider this,” he said, “a tiny spark can set a great forest ablaze. Just as a rudder steers a ship, the tongue directs the course of our lives. With it, we can bless the Lord and Father, or curse people who are made in His image. Out of the same mouth come blessing and cursing. This should not be.”
The group fell silent, each person reflecting on their own words and the impact they had on others. Eliab continued, his voice filled with both sorrow and hope. “The tongue is a restless evil, full of deadly poison. No human being can tame it. It is a world of unrighteousness, staining the whole body and setting on fire the entire course of life. But there is hope. Wisdom from above is pure, peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. If we seek this wisdom, we can learn to bridle our tongues.”
As the evening wore on, the group shared stories of times when their words had brought healing or harm. Josiah confessed that he had once spread a rumor about a fellow carpenter, causing strife in their guild. Another woman, Miriam, spoke of how her encouraging words had lifted the spirits of a grieving widow. Eliab listened intently, his heart stirred by their honesty.
The next morning, Eliab awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. He resolved to guard his tongue more carefully, to speak words of life and truth rather than gossip or criticism. He began each day with a prayer for wisdom, asking God to help him tame his restless tongue. Over time, he noticed a change not only in his speech but in his heart. His words became a source of encouragement and edification, and his relationships grew stronger.
One day, as Eliab walked through the marketplace, he overheard a heated argument between two merchants. Their voices were raised, and the crowd around them grew restless. Eliab stepped forward, his calm presence immediately diffusing the tension. “Brothers,” he said, “let us not be quick to anger, for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer each person.”
The merchants, taken aback by his gentle rebuke, paused and considered his words. Slowly, their anger subsided, and they began to speak to one another with respect and understanding. The crowd dispersed, and Eliab continued on his way, his heart filled with gratitude for the wisdom that had guided his tongue.
From that day forward, Eliab became known not only for his teaching but for his ability to bring peace through his words. He often reminded his congregation of the words of James: *”Who is wise and understanding among you? By his good conduct let him show his works in the meekness of wisdom.”*
And so, in the city of Ephesus, the tale of Eliab and his tamed tongue became a living testament to the power of words—a reminder that the tongue, though small, holds the power to build up or tear down, to bring life or death. And those who sought wisdom from above learned to use their words as instruments of God’s grace, bringing light to a world in need of hope.
