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Christ is in our midst, my dear readers!
We live in a remarkable and frightening time—the age of an information flood. Every day, through the screens of our smartphones, terabytes of opinions, news, and advice pour down upon us. It would seem that there are more words today than at any other time in human history. Yet why does the world around us remain so desperately thirsty? Why, in this ocean of words, does the human soul feel like a dried-up desert?
The answer is given to us by the wise Solomon. He offers not merely an ethical recommendation, but a spiritual diagnosis. He divides all human speech into two categories: that which gives life, and that which carries violence within it.
Solomon says: The mouth of a righteous man is a well of life (Prov. 10:11)
Imagine a traveler who has walked for many hours across burning sand. His lips are cracked, his thoughts are confused, his strength nearly gone. At that moment he does not need a lecture about the chemical makeup of water. He needs a clear mountain spring. Such is the speech of a righteous person.
Righteousness here does not mean sinlessness; rather, it means wholeness—when a person’s heart is united with God, the true Source. The word of the righteous is not always elegant. It may be simple, even severe. Yet it always possesses a certain vertical quality—it lifts us above the noise and vanity of life. The fruit of such speech is peace. After speaking with such a person, you do not feel “overloaded” with information; you feel revived. Anxiety leaves your soul, and there arises within you a quiet, luminous desire to live differently—to live more purely, more kindly, more worthily.
But Scripture warns us of the danger: The mouth of the righteous is a well of life: but violence covereth the mouth of the wicked (Prov. 10:11)
In our year 2026, “wickedness” rarely appears in rough garments. Today it often wears the mask of politeness, uses psychological triggers, and hides behind flattering compliments. The devil is a master stylist; he knows that poison is easier to swallow when it is dissolved in sweet syrup.
The modern “wicked” are not only open villains. They are also manipulators who—through screens or in personal arguments—try to poison your heart with anger, despair, or pride. Their words may be “smoother than oil,” as the psalmist says, yet behind them lies a drawn sword (Ps. 55:21–22). The purpose of such speech is division. It divides families, nations, and above all it separates a person from God. The end of such speech is violence. Either these words crush the will of another, or the Lord in His justice shuts such mouths, not allowing evil to spread endlessly.
How then can we, living in a world of skillful imitations, avoid perishing from spiritual thirst—or from poison? There is only one answer: sobriety of mind, spiritual watchfulness. We must learn to look not at the outward form of speech, but at its spiritual fruit. Ask yourself, after reading an article, watching a video, or having a long conversation: “What is now in my heart?”
If arrogance, irritation, or a kind of “holy anger” against your neighbor has taken root there, know that you have touched the mouth of the wicked.
A righteous person may speak a bitter truth, but he will speak it with love—and that truth will bring healing. The wicked person will flatter you in order to lull your conscience to sleep and make you a slave to his will.
Ultimately, Solomon’s teaching is a call to personal responsibility. Every message we send in a messenger app, every comment we write, every phrase spoken at the family dinner table is an act of choice. Who are we at that moment? Are we a sewer, through which garbage, anger, and condemnation flow? Or are we a quiet spring, bringing comfort to those who are near? Remember that our lips can become either a place of spiritual execution or a small throne of God.
May the Lord grant us the wisdom to guard our hearts in love, so that our words may not destroy but build up; not kill hope, but give life.
