The Wildfire of Gossip

At a prayer chapel on top of a hillside in Redding, California, I sat on the grass overlooking the city just one year after a raging fire swept through, destroying everything in its path. The Carr Fire jumped the Sacramento River, blew through three counties, and took more than a month to contain. Over a thousand structures were destroyed. The fire started as a spark from a tire rim hitting pavement. The flames were carried by the wind with no regard for the lives they damaged and destroyed. Although much of the land is green again, I could still see charred hills from my seat on the grass. The once lush hills were black, and the homes being rebuilt will not be the same. After devastating fires, residents often move away, leaving everything behind.

Just moments before finding that chapel on the hill, I was hit with the remnants of gossip in a most painful way. I crossed paths with a former friend who now sees me through the lens of gossip. Stories from the past had swept through our small community, leaving bitterness to smolder in those who listened. Just enough truth was mixed into the lies to make the rumors seem plausible. Like the wildfire, the first spark of gossip can be like metal hitting asphalt. Something sparks in a relationship, a misunderstanding or disagreement. The person who openly laments their injury leaves behind a wisp of smoke. The smoke, fanned into flame, destroys relationships, erodes communities. Sadly, the church isn’t immune any more than schools or the workplace.

In the book of James, gossip is described as a wildfire: “Even so the tongue is a little member and boasts great things. See how great a forest a little fire kindles! And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity. The tongue is so set among our members that it defiles the whole body and sets on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire by hell” (James 3:5-6 NIV). It doesn’t take much to set a fire of gossip, but it takes a strong effort to put it out. Rebuilding is possible, but like a fire-ravaged neighborhood, a gossip-ravaged community will never be the same.

Wildfires are driven by wind. Wind not only pushes the fire onto new ground, but it also adds oxygen, feeding the flames and increasing the heat. Every time gossip is passed on, it is a wind blowing the embers of bitterness into the lives of others. It doesn’t just damage the person who is the object of the gossip it ravages everyone in its path. Gossip destroys love, steals joy, and pushes away peace. Only when a listener rejects the impulse to blindly believe and refuses to pass the story along does the fire have a chance to die down.

Years ago, a group of women I know was gathered together, chatting about things women talk about. The topic of conversation turned to a couple of women who weren’t there. My friend interrupted, saying, “Are either of those women here? No? Then we shouldn’t be talking about them!” Risking her own comfort, she doused the conversation with her bold challenge. No one enjoys being “that person,” the one who squashes a conversation, but she protected others that day—not just the objects of the conversation, but those who were listening and in danger of being affected by whatever might have been said.

As I observed the blackened hillside that day, I reflected on the days of panic and evacuations The lawn around the chapel was far enough away to come through unscathed but close enough that anyone sitting there could have observed the ravaging flames on the hillside. It must have been difficult. I can imagine the helpless feeling of being unable to stop the catastrophe as it was unfolding.

The hills of Redding are growing green again, but the landscape is forever changed. Homes are being rebuilt with hard work and sacrifice, but the residents of those homes will be different. Restoration is happening throughout the city.

That day on the grass in front of the prayer chapel, I couldn’t help but see the metaphor in front of me. The same kind of restoration can happen when gossip ravages a community, but that community will never be quite the same. Scripture tells us, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18 NIV). To me, this means restoring and rebuilding relationships. We can begin by owning our words, but just as important, we can place boundaries around what we choose to listen to.

Jemelene Wilson is a passionate storyteller who writes of faith, hope, love, and food. She’s madly in love with her pastor husband and mama bear to two daughters. Grace is a fairly new concept she is exploring with her life and words. Mama Jem believes we should live gently and love passionately. You can find more of her writing at jemelene.com.