I love Chick fil A.
In fact, I’m fairly certain that it will be on the menu in Heaven. It is certainly a treat for me to stop and pick up a juicy, perfectly breaded, chicken sandwich with polynesian sauce. (Who else is drooling now?)
But there’s one thing I don’t like about Chick fil A’s sandwich: pickles
There they are, pompously peeking out from the bun!
I always forget to say no pickles! I don’t like them because I can never really rid the sandwich of their presence. Once they’ve touched the bun, even if I pick them off, the vinegary pickle juice– and accompanying flavor– remains.
This got me thinking, my words are like pickles. Hang with me here and the metaphor will make sense! If I say something caustic or cutting or unkind I can apologize, but the pickle of my word has already touched the bun of the relationship. Even if I apologize and try take my words back, removing the pickles from the bun, the flavor of my unkind words remains. Even more than I need to remember to order my delectable Chick fil A sandwich without pickles, I need to remember to think about my words before I speak them because words are potent and powerful, just like pickle juice!