Story – The Silver Tongue and the Crooked Beak (Based on Proverb 10: 31-32)
The
Silver Tongue and the Crooked Beak
In
a vast forest bordered by a quiet river, there lived two birds who were known
throughout the woodland—not for their feathers, nor for their flight, but for
their words.
One
was a graceful white dove named Liora. Her voice was gentle, steady, and
thoughtful. Whenever she spoke, the other creatures felt calmer, wiser, and
strangely encouraged. The elders said her words were like cool water on a
summer day.
The
other bird was a sharp-beaked crow named Vark. His feathers shone black as
midnight, and his eyes glittered with restless cleverness. He loved to speak as
well—but his words were twisted, cutting, and often carried a sting. Some
animals laughed at his remarks. Others left feeling wounded.
Now,
in that forest, words carried weight. It was said that the Great Oak at the
center of the meadow listened to every creature’s speech. And somehow, the
trees themselves seemed to lean toward kindness and recoil from cruelty.
The
Season of Drought
One
year, a long drought fell upon the forest. The river thinned, the grass
withered, and tempers grew short. Food became scarce, and fear spread quickly.
The
animals gathered beneath the Great Oak to discuss what should be done.
Vark
the crow flew to the highest branch and called out loudly, “This is the fault
of the deer! They have trampled the young shoots. And the beavers have hoarded
wood instead of sharing. Why should any of us trust one another?”
His
words fell like sparks on dry leaves.
The
deer stamped in anger. The beavers snapped their teeth. Murmurs of blame began
to ripple through the crowd.
Then
Liora the dove stepped forward. She did not raise her voice, yet somehow it
carried.
“We
are all thirsty,” she said gently. “And thirst can make the heart hard. But we
have survived storms before—not by dividing, but by helping. The river may be
low, but there is still water if we work together to clear the stones blocking
its deeper flow.”
Her
words settled over the meadow like soft rain.
The
fox, who had been scowling, lifted his head thoughtfully. The rabbits stopped
trembling. Even the deer and the beavers looked at one another with softened
eyes.
The
tortoise, oldest in the forest, nodded slowly. “Wisdom grows from such speech,”
he said. “Let us follow this path.”
And
so the animals worked together, clearing stones, digging small channels, and
sharing what little food they had. The river deepened, and though the drought
did not end at once, hope returned.
The
Dividing Path
But
Vark was displeased.
He
disliked that the animals no longer listened so eagerly to his sharp remarks.
He decided to try again.
One
afternoon, he perched beside the young squirrels and whispered, “Did you
notice? The owls take more than their share at night. They think themselves
superior.”
The
squirrels, who had never thought such a thing, began to watch the owls
suspiciously.
Later,
Vark flew to the owls and muttered, “The squirrels chatter about you
constantly. They mock your solemn ways.”
Soon,
tension rose once more.
The
Great Oak groaned in the wind.
But
Liora noticed the unease spreading like shadow across the forest floor. Instead
of confronting Vark publicly, she spoke kindly to those who seemed troubled.
To
the squirrels she said, “Have the owls ever refused you counsel when you were
lost?”
“No,”
they admitted.
To
the owls she said, “Have the squirrels not warned you of danger many times with
their quick cries?”
“They
have,” the owls conceded.
Her
words restored perspective. Misunderstanding dissolved.
And
this time, when the animals realized what Vark had been doing, they did not
shout at him. They simply stopped listening.
The
Withering Branch
Days
passed. Vark continued to speak—but now fewer creatures gathered near him. His
sharp humor echoed back to him unanswered. His clever jabs found no eager ears.
One
evening, as he sat alone on a brittle branch, it cracked beneath him. He
tumbled to the ground—not badly hurt, but shaken.
He
looked up at the tree and noticed something strange. The branches where he
often perched were thinner, more fragile, as if weakened over time.
Meanwhile,
the branches where Liora rested were strong and green, filled with nesting
birds.
The
tortoise, who had seen much in his long life, slowly approached Vark.
“Branches
grow sturdy,” the tortoise said, “where nourishing words are spoken. But where
speech cuts and twists, even strong wood begins to dry.”
Vark
was silent.
For
the first time, he realized that words were not just sounds that vanished in
the wind. They shaped the very ground beneath one’s feet.
The
Turning
The
next morning, something unusual happened.
Vark
flew to the meadow and waited until the animals gathered. His voice, when he
spoke, was quieter than ever before.
“I
have used my tongue like a thorn,” he said. “I believed sharpness was strength.
But I see now that my words have weakened both others—and myself.”
The
forest was still.
Liora
stepped forward, her eyes warm. “Even a thorn bush can bloom,” she said softly.
From
that day on, Vark chose his words carefully. He still spoke with wit—but not
with cruelty. He learned to ask before accusing, to encourage instead of
inflame.
And
slowly, the branch where he perched began to thicken again.
The
Lesson of the Forest
In
time, young animals would ask the elders, “Why do some words make us feel
alive, while others leave us weary?”
And
the elders would answer:
“The
mouth of the righteous brings forth wisdom, and their lips know what is
fitting. But the tongue that delights in crookedness eventually cuts itself
away.”
For
in that forest, as in all places, words were seeds.
Some
grew into sheltering trees.
Others
withered into silence.
And
every creature learned that what springs from the heart shapes the world around
it.
Moral:
Wise
and gracious words bring life, unity, and strength. Twisted speech may gain
attention for a moment—but only righteous lips endure and build what truly
lasts.
🌿
Reflection
Proverbs
10:31–32 says:
“The
mouth of the righteous brings forth wisdom,
but
the perverse tongue will be cut out.
The
lips of the righteous know what is acceptable,
but
the mouth of the wicked what is perverse.” (NKJV)
In
the fable, Liora’s words brought wisdom, unity, and restoration. Vark’s speech,
though clever, brought suspicion and division. The difference was not
intelligence—it was the condition of the heart behind the words.
This
passage reminds us that speech reveals character.
A
righteous heart produces fitting words.
A
crooked heart produces twisted speech.
Notice
something important: Liora did not shout louder than Vark. She did not win
through volume or dominance. She won through wisdom and grace. Her words were
timely, measured, and healing.
Vark’s
downfall was not that he spoke—it was how and why he spoke. His words fed pride
and conflict. Over time, even he stood on a weakened branch. The proverb is
clear: perverse speech eventually collapses under its own weight.
Our
words are never neutral. They either:
Build
or break
Heal
or harm
Unite
or divide
Reflect
God’s wisdom or human distortion
What
we say today shapes the “branches” we will stand on tomorrow.
🌱
Application
Here
are practical ways to live out this proverb in daily life:
1.
Pause Before You Speak
Ask:
Is
this true?
Is
this necessary?
Is
this kind?
Is
this fitting for the moment?
Righteous
lips “know what is acceptable.” That knowledge comes from restraint and
discernment.
2.
Speak to Restore, Not to React
When
tension rises—at home, at church, at work—choose words that cool rather than
inflame. Like Liora, aim to bring clarity and peace instead of blame.
3.
Refuse to Spread Suspicion
Crooked
speech often travels through whispers, exaggerations, or half-truths. Refuse to
participate in gossip or subtle division.
Silence
can be righteous.
4.
Let Your Heart Be Transformed
Speech
is a fruit issue, not just a mouth issue.
If
your words tend to be sharp, sarcastic, critical, or divisive, bring that honestly
before God. Ask Him to reshape your heart. When the heart changes, the tongue
follows.
5.
Use Your Voice to Bless
Encourage
someone.
Defend
someone unfairly criticized.
Speak
wisdom into confusion.
Pray
aloud for others.
Words
can become shelter.
Heavenly
Father,
You
are the God who speaks life.
By
Your word, the world was created.
By
Your Word made flesh, we are redeemed.
Search
my heart and examine my speech.
Forgive
me for careless, sharp, or twisted words that have wounded others.
Where
pride has shaped my tongue, replace it with humility.
Where
fear has shaped my words, fill me with peace.
Teach
me to speak what is fitting, timely, and wise.
Let
my mouth bring forth wisdom and not division.
May
my words reflect Your character—truthful, gracious, and life-giving.
Strengthen
the “branches” beneath my life through righteous speech.
Make
me someone whose voice builds, restores, and honors You.
In
Jesus’ name,
Amen.
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