1 Timothy 5

Disagreeable Busy B's

Busybodies, speaking things which they ought not. 1 Timothy 5:13.

Have you ever watched a bee gathering honey? Have you noticed how it flew to a flower, pushed its way into the cup or heart of it, stayed there for a moment, came out looking very busy and important, buzzed on to the next blossom, dived into it, and so on, and so on. You thought as you watched it that it thoroughly deserved the name of the “busy bee. ”

Well, our sermon today is about “busy b's” of another kind “busy b's” called “busybodies.” Not a bit nice these busy b's! for though they are busy enough they gather no honey. They spend their days poking into things, sure enough, but the things they poke into are other people's affairs, and instead of distilling honey they distil poison.

If busybodies stopped at poking their noses into other people's business it would be bad enough, but they do worse; they go on to spread abroad what they have found out or think they have found out. They not only collect stories, they retail them as well. They are talebearers and mischief-makers.

Now, the word “talebearer” looks as if it should mean one who bears tales both good and bad, doesn't it? Well, it doesn't. The remarkable thing about the word “talebearer” is that it always means one who carries bad or evil tales. There is no English word which means a carrier of good tales. And that proves that talebearing or gossip is always bad.

One of the old nations of the world called a talebearer by a name meaning a “seed-picker.” They thought of him as a little bird picking up here a seed and there a seed. It wasn't a bad idea. But the poor birdie makes a better use of his seeds than the talebearer does of his. He eats them; but the talebearer collects them only to drop them again. He doesn't keep them to himself. If he did he would not be so dangerous. But he drops a seed, and like all seeds it grows. It grows, and grows, and grows, till he would not recognize it again if he came across it. It grows till perhaps friendships are destroyed, and hearts are broken, and lives are spoiled.

And the worst of it is that the mischief-maker often pretends to be doing you a service. We all know the person who comes to us and says with a very solemn face, “I think it's only right you should know that So-and-so says such-and-such about you.” He repeats a story that was never meant to be repeated. He repeats it only half truly. He misses out what would take away the sting, and the result is that you feel miserable. You can't meet that friend without remembering what he is said to have said. And your friendship is killed all because a horrid busybody whispered half a dozen cruel words.

Shall I tell you what to do the next time someone offers to tell you a tale like that? Look him straight in the face and say firmly, “You need not tell me. I do not wish to know, and I certainly shall not listen.” Take for your comfort this the motto of a northern university “They say. What say they? Let them say. ” say.

But suppose we are busybodies ourselves and lots of us are. What then? Seeing that our failing may cause so much misery, how shall we cure ourselves?

I shall give you three cures.

1. Be busy about your own business instead of other people's. Those who are continually prying into other folk's affairs usually neglect their own. Nobody can do two things at once and do them equally well. If you devote yourself to your own business so as to make it a success, you will have no time to interfere in that of others.

2. If you are tempted to tell spicy stories or interfere in other people's matters try to put yourself in their place. Try to think how you would enjoy it if the positions were reversed and you were they and they were you. That should close your mouth. If it doesn't, if you feel you must say something, try this: force yourself to say good instead of evil. If your tongue must be busy let it be busy saying good. It can't possibly say two things at the same moment.

It is not like a piano, on which you can strike two notes at the same time. You can strike only one note on the tongue. So let it be the right note.

1. The third cure is well, I think I'll tell it you in a story. In a certain town in the east of Scotland there lived there still lives a very good man with a very witty tongue. He is a minister, and like most ministers, he has to listen to many tales from members of his congregation. One of his older members was in the habit of regaling him whenever and wherever she met him with stories of her fellow-members in the church. He tried to check her politely, but she pretended not to understand. At last one day when she accosted him on the street with a particularly gossipy tale, he said

“Mrs. So-and-so, you are a Christian are you not?”

“ Eh, sir, I hope so.”

“And you believe in prayer do you not?”

“I do that.”.

“Well, will you do something for me?”

“Gladly, sir, gladly.”

“Go home, and pray to be delivered from the spirit of gossip.”