My Cussing Problem

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I have a serious cussing problem. If we were going to rate me on a scale from Sesame Street to Pulp Fiction, I make Quentin Tarantino and Samuel L. Jackson sound like rank amateurs in verbal profanity. They just dabble. I’m immersed. I was trained by the best. Sailors on shore duty.

I don’t even hear it when it flies out of my mouth any more. I don’t classify ‘Damn’ or ‘Hell’ as cuss words. I’ve gone straight to the big ticket words. Which is a problem. Using it to color up a moment is one thing. Dropping the F-Bomb at church is another.

Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t developed moral outrage over the issue. I know most people are offended. I just don’t happen to be. Mostly I just think it’s crass but the kicker for me is that now I think it’s lazy. I won’t use much profanity when I’m writing as it just seems cheap and distracts from the story. Any story. I can’t have that. Even when I’m not writing it down.

My friend Tanya has laughingly told me she describes me as “Someone that loves Jesus, but says [email protected]#$ a lot.” I can’t argue with the statement as both are true. But maybe it’s time to tone it down a smidge.

This in mind, it influenced my vote on the topic our Life Group was going to study on Sunday nights. It’s one thing to tell myself to stop cussing, but it’s mighty hard to make that happen when it truly doesn’t bother me. I’m hoping that this study will convict my heart that dropping the F-Bomb in no way glorifies the Lord or the funny story you know I love to tell.

We watched the opening video this Sunday night. I was nervous as I thought I was about to spend two hours feeling bad about myself. I was okay with the thought as I was raised Southern Baptist. It’s not a true Southern Baptist sermon if you don’t walk out of church with some serious guilt and conviction on your heart. We don’t sugar coat sin in West Texas – we call you out on the carpet and still get you home in time to watch the football game. Hallelujah!

I was a tad disappointed as the guy on the video didn’t even talk about cusswords. This first chapter was about using words to lift up or tear down but nothing specific about using the F-Bomb like it’s a comma while you are in the lobby of your kids school. Huh. Imagine that. cussing2

So for about two hours I’m feeling pretty good about myself as saying nasty things about people isn’t a particular topic I have a problem with. I have a lot of things to work on, but that’s not one of them. My default is to think positive things about people. You can thank my mother for that one. Way to go mom.

I was even a bit hoity about the fact that at our advanced age (I’m ancient, I know ) we have a lot of flexibility to avoid the people in our lives that are hateful. Heck, I don’t even have to do the workbook exercises this week on dealing with people in a loving way that are tearing us down and how not to internalize that negative message.

I think it’s moments like that, that send a warning up the line to a bell on God’s desk. Ooops! Looks like Reesie’s getting a little big for her britches. Let’s help her out.

First thing this morning I learned that a woman that actively hates me is coming back into my life on a semi permanent basis. I don’t just think this, she’s proven it. I’m not being paranoid.

#[email protected]%& to F*@#ing H#$! Son of a B$%^&! Mo$%6r F$#@er! Now I’ve got two things to work on this week

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