Of course, words do not always “descend like dew.” Often they can be ferocious as a thunderstorm and do the damage of a hurricane. Recent events in the states and currently in Pakistan are evidence of the power of the destructive force of water.
On the basis that the pen is mightier than the sword, words often do more damage than physical violence. James was very aware of this, “The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body.”
But words with the softness of dew can also soothe; “a gentle answer turns away wrath.” They can heal, “Come unto me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
Many years ago, I read the Flight of the Phoenix, later made into films. The greatest need of survivors of a downed plane in the desert was water. I’m not sure if the following incident from the book made it into the movies.
One morning, the occupants found the overnight east wind had left a coating of dew on the cool metal of the fuselage and wings. They ran for cloths to soak up the precious liquid before it evaporated in the desert sun, and squeezed the moisture into as many receptacles as they could find.
Words that fall like dew can restore life. The Gospel brings hope in despair, assurance in uncertainty, and life in death. We have this treasure in earthen vessels, but also the fingers to pour out this life giving balm.
What a privilege!