If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man’s religion is vain.
James 1:26

“I wish you hadn’t told me those things about *Michelle,” my husband said as we drove from the Cheesecake Factory. We would meet up again with Dave and Michelle at the movie theater. Two days earlier Michelle had explained in painful detail the feud she was having with someone else in the ward as we walked through the neighborhood. I found the squabble petty and Michelle self-absorbed. So naturally I came home and related the details, and how amazingly ridiculous it all was, and Michelle’s part in it to my husband. I was delighted when he agreed with me.

“I used to think she was cool,” he said. He didn’t find our dinner conversations as much fun anymore.

“Me too,” I thought in quiet silence. I felt justified in thinking less of her when I had someone else to do it with. “I’m not a gossiper,” I lied to myself. I would never tell anyone else what she had said. I would never replay the mishaps of others to the nearest listening ear, unless that ear was my husband’s; or maybe a far away friend, someone who didn’t know her.

The truth is every time I tell a tale my own bitterness grows. I relate differently to the person in subtle, unkind ways. I am more aloof, more arrogant. I pat myself on the back, remembering how someone else agrees with me, proof that I am right, proof that I am better. Sometimes I find myself calling just-the-right-far-away-person, someone I know will take my side. Sometimes it takes two phone calls.

We often hear the story of the scattered feathers, of how gossip hurts others, while neglecting how it hurts us. Does our ability to love others with the true love of Christ in some way hinge on the way we speak of others? Does it count as gossip if it’s only to our spouse?

*Names have been changed.

Related posts:

1. I’m not a detail person (except when I am)
2. Let’s give them something to talk about
3. A stone’s throw Part II