The Joy of Restraint

I learned a lesson at a summer BBQ.

Restraint of tongue is not merely practical; it is pleasant.

Dr. Bob, our beloved co-founder, preached restraint of pen and tongue. He often referred to the New Testament Book of James, where our inability to control our tongue is coupled to the brilliant metaphors of a bridle and bit used to control a horse and a small rudder steering a ship. A tiny bit of metal hidden in the horse’s mouth controls and steers a powerful animal. A small rudder, underwater and out of sight, controls and steers a large vessel.

In the same way, our tongues, small and out of sight, steer and control so much of what we do.

Time and again, I have learned the practical value of Dr. Bob’s admonition to restrain my tongue. Restraint has saved me from poisoning relationships and making amends for things said that should not have been said. Restraint of the tongue is a practical moral character trait.

But moral values are often unpleasant. Fulfilling a moral obligation feels more dutiful than pleasurable. Restraint of tongue, however, is different; it gives pleasure.

Back to the BBQ lesson. I was standing with three other men. They were chatting away about something. It was a subject on which I held strong views. And the conversation suggested that they did not share those views.

Unusually, I kept quiet and said nothing. I exercised restraint.

I listened, and boy howdy, did it feel good.

Instead of the expected wave of anger and disputative readiness that would have been my usual reaction, a wave of pleasure washed over me. Typically I would have put on my verbal boxing gloves. But this time, I relaxed and listened.

In taking the time to listen carefully, I heard the arguments. I could hear the views discussed fully and completely. And I could see more clearly how correct my views were and how wrong-headed they were. I could also hear the passion in their voices and realized that they would not be open to another view and would certainly not change their minds over a hamburger that afternoon.

So I said nothing; I just sipped on my lemonade.

As I stood quiet, listening attentively, I was surprised. No, I was shocked.

Remaining silent, I was enjoying the moment. Standing listening to views opposed to my own, but listening carefully, a wave of pleasure swept through my soul. Whether it was a feeling of superiority that I was correct, a feeling of moral virtue that I had remained silent, or a sense that I was following God’s desire; whatever the cause, the feeling was pleasure.

OMG, would I have more of this? Absolutely, I hope to remember that sense of pleasure with sufficient force to repeat it.