That awkward silence when you walk up on a group. Eyes shifting to the ground. Whatever they were talking about, you weren't meant to hear, for whatever reason.
This is the scene in Mark 9. Jesus walks up, the disciples mouths close, their eyes downcast. They'd been caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing—arguing about which one of them was the greatest, who had the most stature, who was the most gifted, the most right, the most _________. The content of their conversation was selfish, unfruitful, and led to division between them.
The guilt was written all over their faces and evidenced by their silence when Jesus asked them what they were talking about. They felt guilty. How do I know? I've felt the same way before.
I think we've all felt guilty at one time or another for saying something we knew was wrong. Gossip, comparisons between people, holier-than-thou tidbits, things we say to malign and wound, misdirected anger, dredging up old fights, old sins, pointing fingers, shifting blame. How do we stop?
I think this passage gives us a clue. We know the disciples wouldn't have conversed like this in front of Jesus. How would our conversations changed if we remembered Jesus can always here us? What would happened if we imagined Him in the room? What would happen if we invited Him often into the conversations we have with our spouses (and others)?
We're going to be challenging ourselves to do this for a week—to be intentionally aware of Jesus' presence when we're talking. We want to see how He changes our content (the what), the delivery (the how), and our hearts (the why).
Y'all in, too?
Here's this week's video with some more explanation and examples!
If you have trouble viewing the video via email, click here to watch online.