By Jeff Long
In the words of Harry Truman, the only U.S. president to hail from Missouri, Winston Churchill "saved the free world."
Historians generally have been kind to Churchill, who was long considered washed up by his own Conservative Party before rising to power. He was the lone voice in the British parliament warning of the dangers of Hitler furiously arming Germany in the late 1930s, and when his dark view of the Nazis proved accurate, Churchill was thrust into the world spotlight, becoming prime minister at age 65. The rest is history.
Lesser known about Churchill was his complete and nearly perfect grasp of the English language. Few employed it as well. His words were a call to confidence in war-torn London as bombs rained down nightly from German Messerschmitts, forcing families into the subway to preserve their lives.
"Never, never, never, never give up!" he said amid the sustained Nazi bombardment of U.K.'s capital city. It was something America has never faced -- if you don't count our Civil War, which was a battle the nation fought against itself.
Churchill is reported to have said: "The difference between the right word and the wrong word is the same as the difference between lightning and the lightning bug."
Enter Jesus into the conversation. In reading the New Testament, his biographers portray a man who never said the wrong thing. "Is there no one left to condemn? Neither do I condemn you. Go and do not sin again" (John 8:10-11).
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34).
The list of linguistic pearls from the focus of the Christian faith is long indeed.
Today, we ask: Where are the orators like Churchill? Where is the brilliance of Jesus?
At the risk of sounding apocalyptic, which those who know me are aware I am loathe to do, I've rarely been as discouraged about the content of conversation as in this present moment. Coarse words, fabricated statements and half-apologies are seemingly everywhere.
You know what a half-apology sounds like: "I apologize to anyone who may have been offended by what I said."
Translation: "If you're that thin-skinned to be hurt by my words, then I'm sorry, I guess." If we feel discouragement, rather than wring our hands in frustration and defeat, we can do something: We can pray.
Hold on, hear me out.
"More things," Lord Tennyson reminds us, "are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of." Forgiving the unfortunate ending of a sentence with a preposition, if we need a focus for prayer as Thanksgiving approaches, here's an idea: Pray for a wordsmith like Churchill to rise. We desperately need to hear someone who can stitch words together in a way that will lift us all.
And then, a continuing prayer: Pray for the wisdom of Jesus to be exhibited in ourselves and in others, that we may see and hear those who can speak the unflinching truth, but delivered with compassion, the highest of all human virtues.
It might make a decent prayer before cutting the turkey in a few weeks.
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