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Have you ever noticed how easy it is to speak negatively? Whether it’s complaining about the weather, criticising a loved one, or doubting our own abilities, negative talk can slip into our conversations without much effort. While it may seem harmless, the impact of our words is far greater than we realise.
Negativity doesn’t need to be taught—it’s a natural tendency. Think of a child: no one teaches them to say “I can’t” or “That’s not fair,” but somehow, it’s often their default. And if we’re honest, many of us carry that same instinct into adulthood. It’s a kind of cultural habit—a "can’t-do" attitude that quietly limits what we believe is possible. The Bible recognises the power of speech and doesn’t shy away from the challenge of controlling it. One particularly passage that comes from the book of James points to the power of our words:
"The tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark." (James 3:5). Words, like sparks, can cause enormous damage. A careless comment can hurt deeply. A repeated complaint can wear down morale. Even a well-meant criticism, if timed poorly, can do more harm than good.
There’s a story about Albert Einstein. One day, he wrote out a list of multiplication tables for his students. At the end, he made one deliberate mistake. His students laughed. He calmly responded, “Despite the fact that I got nine problems right, no one congratulated me. But when I got one wrong, everyone noticed. That’s how the world is.” Einstein’s point still rings true: society is quick to highlight errors and slow to celebrate effort. And often, we do the same with ourselves and others. This focus on the negative can keep us from stepping into new things, trying again, or encouraging those around us.
So, what’s the alternative? In Christian faith, we’re invited to a different way of speaking—a way shaped by hope, grace, and truth. Rather than tear down, we are called to build up. Rather than curse, to bless. Our words should reflect the life Jesus came to give: not just survival, but “life in abundance.”
As a follower of Jesus, as a human being, I know I don’t and can’t always get this right, but I don’t give up trying to follow that example. I imagine a community where people look for the good in each other, call out potential instead of problems, and use their words to bring peace instead of pain. That kind of transformation doesn’t come through sheer willpower—it comes from a change of heart.
And it starts with the words we choose today.
It doesn’t take much scrolling through the news to realise the world feels a bit wobbly right now. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed, everyday seems to bring fresh headlines about global tensions, rising prices, natural disasters, or political upheaval. Recently, new tariffs have triggered fresh economic uncertainty. The pace of information is relentless—24/7 news cycles, alerts on our phones, and social media debates that never sleep. It’s no wonder so many of us feel anxious, emotionally drained, and a bit lost.
But maybe it’s time we pause and ask: are we meant to carry all of this, all the time? There’s wisdom in stepping back. Detaching ourselves from the constant flood of news doesn’t mean we don’t care—it means we’re choosing to care wisely. We can’t pour from an empty cup. We need moments of stillness, practices that ground us, and rhythms that restore rather than drain.
For me, as for many, faith offers that anchor. In the Christian tradition, there's a belief that God remains constant—even when everything else feels like it's shifting. The words of Psalm 46 speak to this: “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” It’s a reminder that we are not alone in the chaos. That peace is possible, even in the storm. These words don’t change when governments shift, or economies falter, nor do they insulate me from difficulty. The difference isn’t in what I face, but in who I face it with.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly. (Matthew 11:28–30 ‘The Message: the Bible in contemporary language’)
But even if faith isn’t your starting point, spiritual wellbeing (soul care) is still vital, and it doesn’t have to mean church. It can be found in moments of awe under a starry sky, in painting or writing, in a quiet walk through the woods or sitting with someone in deep conversation. It’s about reconnecting with what makes us feel truly alive and rooted; it is a salve to our mental, emotional and physical health. It's about creating a balance between what we consume and reflect on and what refreshes us, who we connect with and how we nourish the soul. The world might not calm down any time soon, but we can choose how we move through it. We can anchor ourselves not in headlines, but in hope. Not in chaos, but in creativity. Not in fear, but in faith—whether that’s faith in God, in community, or simply in the quiet goodness of a still moment amongst the chaos.
