Endigar 922 ~ The Tongue Drawn Like a Sword
Courage to Change of Jun 15:
“Many have fallen by the edge of the sword, but more have fallen by the tongue.” This quotation calls attention to a weapon many of us have been known to use: sarcasm. The cutting remark, the snide innuendo, the scornful sneer.
If I could see myself uttering these verbal assaults, I would not be proud of the picture. So why do it? When I am angry or frustrated, I may get momentary satisfaction in scoring a hit, but does sarcasm get me what I truly desire? Will attacking someone else help to solve the problems between us? Is this really the way I wish to behave? Of course not.
Sometimes I feel helpless and angry. When that happens, I might try calling an Al-Anon friend or going to a meeting where I can get some perspective. I might write down every nasty word I want to say and then read it to my Sponsor. Sometimes it feels good to let it out. But I need to do it appropriately and not hurt others needlessly in doing so. Afterward, I’ll be better able to behave constructively and communicate in a way I can be proud of.
Today’s Reminder
Most of us carry more than our share of shame. I will not add to the problem by using cruel, clever words to humiliate a fellow human being. In doing so, I would be shaming myself.
“Everyone in an alcoholic situation deserves and needs extra loving care.” ~ Living with Sobriety
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There’s something seductive about the verbal kill — that flash of superiority, the illusion of power. Especially when I feel powerless inside. When anger has no safe container, when grief hasn’t been grieved, when fear stands at the door of my heart pretending to be courage. That’s when the tongue gets sharp.
And yet, every time I wield words to wound, I am the one who limps away bleeding. Because what I really wanted was connection — not conquest. What I really needed was to be heard, not to be feared. And sarcasm never bridges that gap. It widens it.
Maybe it would be good to learn to call someone. Write it down. Speak it aloud to a Sponsor who won’t flinch. Let the heat rise and cool. Only then am I able to say what’s genuinely true — not just what’s clever.
Humor isn’t my enemy. Neither is anger. They are both holy when held with care. But cruelty masquerading as wit? That’s just unprocessed pain taking the stage in disguise.
Today, I pray for the courage to lay down my sword — even the invisible one. To trade pride for presence. To speak with the kind of fire that warms, not burns. Because I know what it is to walk wounded in a world already full of blades.
Let my words be medicine. Let them be grace.
Lucien
Daily Reprieve 
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