Gossip has no home in this place

Nothing is more toxic to a group of people than the poison of the mouth. I’m talking about gossip. We’ve all tasted it. We’ve all passed around that brown bag of conversational good-good. We’ve all been caught wiping away it’s drizzle from the corner of our mouths. The label on the bottle may say “prayer requests,” “accountability,” or “conspiracy.” And no matter how open concept your community house is, there is always a small defined space, not well lit, where the distilled secrets are enjoyed with a hush, a murmur, and a gurgle. 

But the toxicity of gossip is old news, ancient news even. The Bible contains stern warnings against its indulgence. Paul writes in Romans that those who gossip demonstrate an evil and debased mind (1:29). James calls the tongue a “restless evil, full of deadly poison” (3:8). A stiff and deadly drink. Don’t let the little toothpick umbrella fool you. The drink’s been roofied.

Gossip is toxic and poisons all attempts at authentic community. This is because gossip divides. And a community divided will not stand long. It becomes an easy target to the Enemy of our souls who wants to divide and conquer. So even if it’s right there on the old man's liquor shelf, avoid it. 

But don’t just avoid it because it poisons your relationship with the community. Avoid it because it poisons your relationship with God. At the heart of gossip is lying; either willful lying or ignorant lying. You don’t know the whole story. You don't see the whole tapestry being woven on the loom. But you know who does? The Weaver does. God knows the whole story. And it is before God alone that our speech stands naked and exposed for what it is. It’s either true or false. And out of the six things the Bible says God hates, lying makes the list twice (Pr 6).

So avoid gossip. However, I’m not naive. Whether it’s your church community, your family, or D&D group, the train of gossip will inevitably pull into your station. But when that day comes you have a choice. You’re the station master. Decline the load. Actually, pull the pin and drain the tanks. Declare before God and the world that gossip will have no home in this place. 

Yet this is not enough. The train is now empty, and in this world full of evil that train will fill up by the time it reaches the next station. So finish your work of sabotage and subterfuge on the gossip train. Drain the dregs and apply the gospel. Yes, fill the train with barrels and barrels of pure distilled grace. Give ‘em the good stuff. Because it is the gospel that says that my heart is evil beyond the worst rumors, but I am also loved and forgiven in Christ beyond my wildest speculation. Now the train is no longer a gossip train. It’s a grace train. How delightfully surprised will the next station be?