When Words Become Weapons… or Grace
As Christians, how can we reconcile freedom of speech, responsibility, and love for our neighbor? The Desert Fathers offer us keys to transforming our words into instruments of peace.
A few weeks ago, a heated debate erupted on social media. A Christian influencer, known for his strong stances, denounced the excesses of certain ministries. The words were sometimes harsh, the accusations heavy, and the reactions were not long in coming. Some applauded his courage, others cried foul, accusing him of inciting a witch hunt. Amid the uproar, one question haunted me: How far can we go in the name of freedom of expression, especially when we claim to be disciples of Christ?
Freedom of expression is indeed a fundamental right, but is it an end in itself ?
Can we say anything, criticize everything, denounce without limits or nuance, at the risk of hurting, discrediting, or sowing division? And when we carry within us the call to love our neighbor, to build rather than destroy, how do we navigate between the right to express ourselves and the duty of responsibility?
To answer this question, let’s turn to those who, before us, reflected on the power and dangers of speech. Their wisdom, forged in silence and listening to God, can help us discern how to use our freedom of expression not as a weapon, but as a tool of grace.
Freedom of expression is often brandished as an absolute. “I can say what I want, it’s my right!” But a right, no matter how fundamental, should never become an idol.
Like all rights, it is framed by laws on one hand and by ethics on the other. Doesn’t the Bible remind us that “everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial; everything is permissible, but not everything builds up”?
Freedom of expression is often brandished as an absolute. “I can say what I want, it’s my right!” But a right, no matter how fundamental, should never become an idol.
Like all rights, it is framed by laws on one hand and by ethics on the other. Doesn’t the Bible remind us that “everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial; everything is permissible, but not everything builds up”?
Words have a power that we should handle with prudence. They can heal or wound, unite or divide, build or destroy. Jesus Himself used strong words, particularly against the Pharisees, but always to denounce hypocrisy and bring people back to what truly matters: the love of God and neighbor. His words were a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. Saint Augustine, in The City of God, emphasizes that speech must serve truth and love. For him, freedom of speech is not a means to dominate, but to serve:
“Love, and do what you will.”
In other words, if our speech is truly motivated by love, it can only build up.
It is crucial, before speaking, to ask ourselves the right question: “When I express myself, is it to edify, to denounce an injustice, or simply to strike out? Does my speech reflect the love of Christ, or is it motivated by pride, anger, or the desire to justify myself?”
As Christians, we are not primarily citizens, but ambassadors of Christ. Our speech must therefore reflect the One we serve.
Speech is a gift, not a right. James warns us: “the tongue is like a fire, capable of corrupting the whole body.” It can bless God but, alas, it can also curse men. We must therefore handle it with discernment. Our freedom of expression is in no way a license to harm, but our responsibility to bless.
Three criteria should guide us: intention, truth, and love.
Am I speaking to build up or to tear down? Are my words just and verified, or merely easy accusations? Does my speech respect the dignity of others, even in disagreement? Abba Poemen, one of the most famous Desert Fathers, said:
“A man must guard his tongue as he would a treasure.”
For the Desert Fathers, speech was a tool for communion with God and with others, not a means of imposing oneself. Their practice of silence was not a renunciation of freedom, but a way to purify their speech so that it would always serve love.
When I am led to criticize a church or a leader by name, have I done so privately first? Is it to correct a real issue, or to prove myself right? Have I verified the facts? Am I “airing everything in public” to position myself as a self-appointed judge?
There are cases where silence is betrayal. In the face of injustice, oppression, or heresy, speech must be firm. Too many abuses have been swept under the rug, too many victims ignored. What about compassion, justice, and support for the oppressed?
But beware: denouncing is not the same as insulting. Correcting is not the same as humiliating.
The line between courage and violence is thin. Courage is speaking up when necessary, even if it’s difficult. Violence is using words to crush, without mercy, without seeking reconciliation or the truth sometimes hidden behind appearances.
Justifying carnal aggression with freedom of expression is inconceivable for someone who is in Christ. Even worse, hiding behind stupid reasons: “I tell it like it is, that’s my personality!” If you are like that, change before you speak! Doesn’t the Bible call us to self-control? Frankness is not a valid excuse for brutality.
John Chrysostom, known for his powerful sermons, did not hesitate to denounce abuses of power and social injustices. Yet, he always emphasized that speech must be accompanied by humility: “Anger is a poor advisor. If you must correct, do so with love, otherwise you will only make things worse.”
Social media amplifies everything: the best ideas and the worst.
A tweet can destroy a reputation in hours. A video can spread hatred like wildfire. Behind a screen, too many people, including Christians, dare to say things they would never say face-to-face. And the worst part is that a hurtful word can quickly become uncontrollable. Social media algorithms push it to extremes, ignoring all verification and nuance. When I think of the number of Christians who reposted the allegations about Brigitte Macron’s gender change, I admit they shame me.
To react wisely, let’s take time before posting. A word spoken in anger is rarely a wise word. Let’s verify the facts, prioritize dialogue in private messages over harsh comments. Instead of publicly shaming, why not engage in conversation?
For the Desert Fathers, speech was a sacred act. Before speaking, they asked themselves: “Is it necessary? Is it true? Is it loving?” A rule that could save us from many excesses on social media.
The greatest commandment, according to Jesus, is to love God and love your neighbor. Our freedom of expression must imperatively pass through this filter.
Does loving mean staying silent? No. Loving sometimes means speaking up, especially when silence would make us complicit. But loving also means choosing our words, tone, and timing.
Basil of Caesarea, in his Monastic Rules, stressed the importance of kindness in speech: “Let your words always be seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.” For him, freedom of speech was inseparable from charity.
Finally, let’s not forget grace. We have all said things we regret. We have all hurt others, intentionally or not. The good news of the Gospel is that God offers us a second chance.
Freedom of expression is a gift, but like all gifts, it can be misused. As Christians, we are called to responsible freedom, to words that liberate rather than enslave, that heal rather than wound. So, just like Abba Isaac the Syrian, let’s acknowledge that “Speech is a gift from God. Let’s use it to bless, and we will be blessed.”
For him, every word spoken in love was a prayer, every silence kept in humility was an offering, reminding us that true freedom is not measured by what we can say, but by how our words serve love and truth. His wisdom, forged in silence and prayer, invites us to use our speech not to dominate, but to edify.
So, how far can we go in our freedom of expression? To the boundary of love. To the point where our words cease to be tools of grace and become weapons. And instead of asking how far we can go, what if we asked how far we must go to love, serve, and honor God?
Mikaël Réale