good job

I’m driving to school with Adam when the notification comes that Riley has texted, and I smile, knowing that she’s awake and is, as she always describes it, “encouraging everyone on the family Wordle thread.” I can see her in my mind, half risen on one elbow, sleep still hanging about her eyes.  I whisper thanks for this, that the first thing on her mind to say to another human being as she wakes up is good job.

There’s a verse I’ve been remembering lately, submitting as God wields His sword:

Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.

Ephesians 4:29 ESV

Nothing corrupting, but only such as is good for building up.

This morning, as Adam and I make slow progress through thick knots of rush-hour traffic, I form those words carefully as a prayer, and the drive through the city and that word build has me remembering the re-building of Jerusalem in Nehemiah’s day.  Scripture records that people of every age and vocation and background—impossible, miraculous, returning refugees–worked side-by-side repairing the broken wall around their city, and I’m thinking this deliberately kind use of words—only such as is good for building up–is a deliberate kind of re-building our cities could use right now.  It’s got to happen with all of us, people of every age and vocation and background, on our knees and side-by-side and keeping careful watch, like the Israelites did back then.  I’m not sure how else we build instead of destroy, and I wonder what could be if we let our words to one another be the kind of words that build.

Oikodome, Paul’s solid word to the Ephesian church translated building up, refers to a structure meant to be used as a home.  In other words, my words can build someone into a dwelling place for God and a safe shelter for others, with love, as Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians, roofing over all things.  Or, my words can bruise a rotting spot, a pit, right into a broken heart.

Riley’s good job in the morning, it’s like a couple of memorial stones generously slathered with mortar and stacked, building a strong wall right around our dwelling with God.  This is the lesson of Nehemiah, that an unlikely builder can build with skill that’s not her own if the work itself belongs to God.  Those two basic, well used words, Riley’s good job, can build something resilient because she delivers them in love.  Eloquence isn’t required for oikodome.

Even Adam, despite his continual struggle with words, responds readily to those two, lighting up when I use them to appreciate some way he’s served or persevered past his own discomfort, to acknowledge his effort and intent.  I say good job, and he laughs, looking at me with those tender, unguarded eyes, spilling joy.  Fluency isn’t required for oikodome, either.

As it now stands, I have to actively remember to say encouraging things, to say only such as is good for building up, but Riley does this by nature instead of habit.  There is no question; God gave her that nature as a gift of His grace.  More than being someone who practices encouragement (like I do), she is someone who has an encouraging heart, and so, this thing she does comes not as a product of careful intention but as the impartial, automatic overflow of the heart God has given her.  She is not encouraging in response to our treatment, but because it is her nature to encourage.

As I’ve rehearsed this verse lately, I’ve been telling God that I will keep relying on Him to re-create my heart with a natural inclination to love as He loves, trusting that it is the particular, mysterious and continuous work of the Spirit to build us together into a dwelling place for God, to oikodome us, so that He can give more and more grace.  God is the edifying Logos, the building and re-building Word, and all of our good words are only His words re-breathed, as all our efforts to raise up lives by what we say are really only His efforts to do so through us.  So, as Riley encourages everyone in every way, as she keeps building up, she does so by God’s power and according to His grace, which she gives away to all those who, like those of us on the family Wordle thread, receive her building words.

Down the family Wordle thread this morning, the thank-you’s roll in one-by-one, in response to Riley’s encouragement.  When we build each other up, gratitude always increases.  Adam grins, laughing out loud at the sound of my phone and my watch buzzing over and over and over again in unison.

One reason we all feel especially touched by Riley’s kudos on our family Wordle thread is that we know we haven’t actually accomplished anything remarkable just by solving a daily word puzzle.  We know Riley makes much ado of our nothing, and that’s grace.

In Paul’s letter, he named grace as the ultimate objective of what we say, that it may give grace to those who hear, but as the sword of the Word slices into me this morning, I realize that I can strip all the grace from the building words I receive as well as the ones I give when I stipulate that building words must be deserved.  I can feel justified in this, courting also the reciprocal idea, that being treated as I deserve is the cornerstone for healthy, life-giving relationships.  On the contrary, God has shown me His will, that grace, that is, giving and receiving unmerited favor, that which we do not deserve, is the life-giving reality of His Kingdom, and that Christ Himself is the cornerstone of healthy society from and through whom this economy of grace extends and expands.  He offers grace not in response to us, but because it is His nature to do so.

Riley’s distribution of grace in the morning, just on this one text thread, is generous and repetitive, and were we to literally substitute the word grace in the thread every time she says, good job, it would create for us all a visual representation of exactly what the apostle John meant when he said that we have already received from Christ grace upon grace already given.  Peter called Christ’s followers stewards of His grace, and this morning I understand that just by saying only such as is good for building up, I can distribute His grace lavishly, since I myself have received grace with such generosity from Him.

But where to begin with today’s construction?

I smile again, glancing at the notification for Riley’s text and all the ones that have followed, as Adam and I come to a stop.  Riley has given me an example that’s easy to reproduce.  I can start with two simple building words, like stones stacked up in remembrance, and so give grace.

I look over at Adam, who instinctively glances my way.

“Hey Adam, good job.  You do such a good job,” I say, specifying nothing.

Joy breaks wide on his face, and once again, he laughs out loud.