But I say to you that for every idle word men may speak, they will give account of it in the day of judgment.” – Matthew 12:36 NKJV
At the start of February, God put it on my heart to write a sonnet—a Shakespearean sonnet, and since it was the month of love, I figured… why not?
I used to think sonnets were just romance poems—sweet, sappy, and sentimental.
But sonnets aren’t just love poems. They’re craft.
From what I learned online, a sonnet is like a ship built and steered by words. Each letter, each syllable, each word has a job. In a sonnet, even one extra syllable can throw the rhythm, and therefore the sonnet off—so the word choice has to be exact. If laying adds too much weight and makes the line clunky, it becomes lay. If forever feels too soft—or adds one beat too many—it might become for long. If “Come on” doesn’t steer the line where it needs to go, it changes to “Work!” so the anchor can set.
In a real sonnet, there are no idle words. Yet what is an idle word?
Here are a few definitions of idle (as an adjective):
- unemployed or unoccupied; inactive
- not operating or being used
- frivolous or trivial
- ineffective or powerless; fruitless; vain
- without basis; unfounded
So if a word was in the sonnet because it “felt right” well that extra weight of right can sink the ship. Writing that sonnet taught me how often I let my words be idle—present, but not purposeful.
For example, here was my first draft and what I posted:
My partner, what has happened to you and I?
What has happened to the times we were in sync?
Why do you say reaching for your hand is a lie?
Am I just clicking and clicking a broken link?
It was easy and fun when it all was a game,
Just for us two, player you and player me.
But now things have changed and who is to blame?
Because now our connection needs work and a fee.
Not a fee of money or fame, but one you and I feel.
For now the game is not about what we lost or win,
It is about what makes this, what makes us real.
Are we connected hand in hand or just plugged in?
My partner, my love, this is not a game, it’s new,
And I’m scared too but still I reach out to say: “I love you.”
My partner—what has happened to you and me?
My thoughts keep buffering; I can’t quite think.
My thoughts load in circles, spinning back on me:
Work! I click our link and watch it only blink.
It once was easy—mainframe-safe—just a game;
We laughed past cracks spreading on our display.
Now every glitch asks again, “Who’s to blame?”
And blame is easy, still it pulls us astray.
But in fear, distance grew—I want us still to heal:
Let’s stop keeping score by loss or win;
Let’s ask if what we hold is truly real—
Are we hand in hand, or only plugged in?
My love—let me not be a game to you;
For though I’m afraid, my hand reaches for you.
My first draft is a good poem, and it almost reads like a sonnet…similar rhyming scheme, similar structure, but it’s not in the rhythm or meter of a sonnet. And would you get on an almost boat?
To make that draft into a functioning sonnet, I had to dig deep into how words work—meaning, sound, rhythm, and syllables. I had so much to learn, and I struggled in places. I needed help making my boat into something more than an “almost” that happened to float.
And while this was a fun project—and I can easily admit I need help writing a sonnet (which I haven’t studied since high school)—can I admit I need help speaking just as much?
In James 3, Scripture compares the tongue to something that steers—like a rudder on a ship. Yet how many of us speak without thinking? Or worse, we think about it just enough to say we did. We think about our feelings before we think about our words.
The funny thing is, while I was building the ship of the sonnet, the structure didn’t care how I felt. It kept asking me: How does that word work here? Is it really doing what you need it to do… or is it only here because you want it to be?
God asks us those questions about our words too—not because He wants to censor us, and not because He doesn’t care how we feel. He wants us to build communication that can weather storms: misunderstanding, manipulation, emotions, and fear.
Words aren’t just expressions. They’re boats carrying loads that someone else will receive.
So I have to make sure that God is sailing with me always. So that He can steer past what I see and hear. He can tell the storms “Peace, Be still.” If He is in the boat, then that means what I say carries Him. And what is in Him, He loves and cares for.
How are you caring for your boats? And who is helping you sail?
Prayer:
“Jesus, make my words seaworthy. Teach me to choose them with care, so what I carry to others is honest, healing, and led by You. Set a guard over my mouth and steady my heart. Amen.”
Something Good 