As I’ve still been trying to recognize and eliminate my own complaining, I’ve been struck by how very much I complain inside my head, without ever saying the words.  I have to constantly struggle to take every thought captive. It’s no wonder that it’s so tough to control my outward expressions of complaint. Jesus said that’s how it works.

Listen to Jesus’ words.  Don’t simply skim over the passage, really listen. Just a warning though, this might hurt a bit.

“Either make the tree good and it’s fruit good, or make the tree bad and it’s fruit bad, for the tree is known by its fruit. You brood of vipers!  How can you speak good, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.  The good person out of his good treasure brings forth good, and the evil person out of his evil treasure brings forth evil.” (Matthew 12:33-35)

A bad tree?  Me?  That seems a little harsh. How about a brood of vipers?  I know I’m not that bad. At least that’s what I’d like to think. But if my complaining is coming from the abundance of my heart….well….what does that say about the condition of my heart?  

When I allow myself to think thoughts of complaint about a situation, I’m building up my evil treasure. When I overlook someone else’s faults on the outside but harbor bitterness on the inside, I’m storing evil treasure. When I make sarcastic comments or criticisms in my head, I am collecting evil treasure.

Thankfully, Jesus died to give me freedom from those sins, too. I don’t have to hold onto that bad treasure. As I praise God for bringing trials into my life, I am building up good treasure. When I choose to love someone who has failed or frustrated me, I am storing good treasure. When I resist the temptation to think unkind thoughts toward others, I’m collecting good treasure.

It doesn’t matter if my complaining is the obvious-can’t-miss-it kind, the kind I try to sneak in the back door, or the kind that’s little more than a sound or tone of voice. It all starts with my sinful heart. And it all ends with grace. Repentance and resistance through grace.

When the complaining thoughts pop up, I have to fight against them. I have to resist. Like the Psalmist, I need to pray, “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” (Psalm 19:14) I need to pray this daily….hourly….sometimes even minute-by-minute. I must stop these thoughts before they become the treasure of my heart and the words of my mouth. And I must make His Word the treasure of my heart so my words are a reflection of Him and acceptable to Him. Only by God’s grace.

This post is linked to Raising Homemakers.

…it’s how you say it.

Our voices and expressions are powerful things. They often communicate much more than our mere words ever could.

They also can contribute to those back door complaints that I like to slip into my conversations. If you were to read my words as subtitles, they would look harmless enough: I need to finish the laundry; I guess I’d better start making dinner; I’ll find your pencil for you.

See? No big deal. But if you listen closely, you can hear the grumble behind each statement. Actually, you don’t even need to listen very closely. I’m not particularly subtle. And if you peek through my window, you also might see me slumping my shoulders for emphasis. I wouldn’t want anyone to miss the point I’m trying to make.

At other times, I don’t even need words. A sigh….a groan….a puff of air. A very loud puff of air, that is, blown out obnoxiously enough for everyone to hear my frustration. I’ve spent years perfecting the fine art of wordless complaining. I’m good at it. I practice a lot.

Unfortunately, God doesn’t read my subtitles; He reads my heart.

First John 1:8 says, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” Verse ten stabs at the heart again, “If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.” Ouch! When I act like my tone of voice or wordless expressions don’t matter, I’m deceiving myself and calling God a liar.

Sin is sin, no matter how I paint it or what excuse I make for it. And God hates sin. But sandwiched in between those two painful verses I shared above is a sentence that perfectly expresses the beauty of God’s grace. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9)

Amazing. Undeserved. Incomprehensible.

I’m finding that removing complaining from my life is even harder than I thought it would be. And I thought it would be pretty hard. God, in His mercy, is revealing the secret (and not so secret) sins of my heart. These sins need confessed and forgiven. Continually. And I need cleansed from this unrighteousness by the blood that was shed (without complaint!) for me.

One problem with complaints is that they don’t always look like a problem. Sometimes they just look like a little piece of shared information. A helpful idea. A thought.
Unless you’re the one listening to them.

When I tell the kids that we need to speed up bedtime because I still have two hours worth of housecleaning to finish, they know I’m not expressing how excited I am to hurry downstairs and lovingly serve my family.

When I remind everyone that it really wouldn’t kill them to pick up their dirty socks,
my intention probably has nothing to do with offering a little encouragement about their health.

And when I tell my husband that I’m sorry the house is such a mess since I spent all my time dealing with the bad attitude of a “certain someone”, he’s bright enough to understand that I’m not actually apologizing for the unwashed dishes.

You see, I don’t do a lot of complaining. Not directly, at least. I do a lot of back door complaining instead. I sneak it in, as though no one will notice it for what it really is. I act like I’m simply handing out advice or stating a fact.

But I don’t live with a bunch of fools, and I’m communicating my discontent loud and clear. I am unintentionally telling my family that making a home for them is a burden. If I’m not careful, I could discourage my daughter from wanting to follow in my homemaking footsteps. I could paint a picture of frustration that will scare her away from one of the greatest joys on earth.

Well, I’m locking the back door.

It won’t be easy, but it needs done. Instead of hinting around or making sarcastic comments when I have an issue to deal with, I’ll say it directly (and politely). Or I’ll keep my mouth shut.

Ephesians 4:29 says:
“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.”

I have a feeling that when God says, “no corrupting talk,” He means it. None.
Not even my cute little comments or snide remarks. If it isn’t “good for building up” or doesn’t “give grace”, then it needs said in a different way or not at all. Period.

And God doesn’t need a back door to communicate that truth.

I’ve been noticing an unhealthy trend at our house lately. No, I’m not talking about the Pop Tarts for breakfast or the potato chips with lunch (although those aren’t very good habits, either). I’m talking about what’s coming out of our mouths, not what’s going into them.

There have been far too many complaints swirling through the air around here. It seems like complaining just falls off the tongue so easily. The words disguise themselves in conversations and hide behind genuine wants and needs. They rob us of joy and contentment. They reveal our selfish hearts.

I could easily name some things that might be contributing to this heart problem. But, like most other negative issues that pop up, I should also take a good look at myself. Why is it that our kids seem to pick up (and amplify) every character flaw we possess? It’s really quite annoying. I mean, I can handle brushing my own sins under the carpet, but it’s hard to overlook the same sinfulness in my children.

So this week I am challenging myself to not complain. That’s right, no complaints. None. Impossible? Probably. Worth trying? Definitely.

I will force myself to look for the blessings hiding under the mess and clutter instead of grumbling about all the work I have to do. I will bless my husband by highlighting the positives from our day instead of sharing every little annoyance. I’ll praise God for the struggles, big or small, that drive me to the shadow of the cross.

And I’ll pray for grace. I have to admit that I’m a little nervous that I might learn some ugly truths about myself this week. Sometimes the truth hurts. But it also heals. By God’s grace.