Meditations, Ruminations, and the Gift of Gab

I have always been one of those annoying people who has something to say in every organized group setting. A comment, an anecdote, a question, or a complete non-sequitur: leave it to me to spare everyone from awkward silences. Even in Kindergarten, I remember telling tall tales to liven up the class discussion. As I grew older, I hated this tendency in myself, and I would sit on my hands in class in an attempt to keep myself from raising them. 

Unfortunately, this inclination did not go away when I reached adulthood. In meetings, in training sessions, even in orientation, if the topic was ever remotely interesting to me, I would be sure to give my two cents. Or five.

Needless to say, I was a horror in college. Not only did I have something to say about everything, I was a nontraditional student (about seven years older than everyone else), which somehow made it worse. 

I experienced quite a bit of relief from this urge during my brief stint as a teacher. In front of a captive audience–with license to speak as much as I wanted–a feeling of rightness ensued. 

Now as a frequent attender of things like small groups, women’s Bible studies, and book clubs, I’m back to sitting on my hands. 

To give myself a little credit, these days I resist many of my urges to speak. I usually only talk if there is a lull in the conversation. 

Or if I have a really amazing idea or thought, and the thought tumbles out before I have a chance to catch it. 

Or if I have several really amazing ideas or thoughts, and they all rush out of my mouth at once, before I have a chance to catch them. 

Usually when this happens (when several thoughts rush out of my mouth at once), I go home and beat myself up a bit. For some reason, it seems OK when extroverts talk a lot. But I’m an introvert. A weird one. And being a weirdo who talks a lot doesn’t help me win friends and influence people. 

Recently, while beating myself up, a thought came to me. A Bible verse, actually. 

For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks (Luke 6:45). 

And I was struck with a new perspective. Perhaps the actual number of words I use isn’t the point. Yes, I need to be a good listener. Yes, I shouldn’t speak in an unbridled, careless way with zero self-control. But maybe learning to dam up the words isn’t what I should be spending all my effort on. 

Perhaps my effort needs to be placed elsewhere.

If what is in my heart will naturally spill out in what I say, whether the words are many or few is beside the point. The point is whether or not what spills out is good and worthwhile. 

And ascertaining this requires more than just discernment in the moment: it requires a life-practice of meditating on what is good and worthwhile. 

As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he (Prov. 23:7).

I think it’s important to note that the Biblical use of the words “heart” is a bit different from our modern usage. I think we make “heart” synonymous with “sentiment” or “emotion.” But in the Bible, “heart” seems to mean something like the center of one’s being. One’s interiority. One’s inner person, perhaps. 

Earlier this week I struggled a bit with gloomy ruminations. While there is nothing wrong with feeling sad or having gloomy thoughts, I have lived with myself long enough to know the dark places that these thoughts can lead to. 

I have also lived with myself long enough to know that I have some control over what I think about and what I allow into my mind.

For instance, I know that it isn’t helpful for me to consume content from the weird corners of the internet. 

Also, I can work to replace my sad thoughts with hopeful ones. 

And when it’s too hard, I can ask God for help. 

This week, a couple of people remarked to me that something I said during some “overflow of my heart” was encouraging to them. Maybe my gift of gab will come to some good after all. 

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in my sight, Oh Lord, my rock and my redeemer (Psalm 19:14).