My three neighbors and I were terribly bored one summer, so we decided to box. We didn’t have gloves, but we did have striped, white tube socks that we took off and used for boxing gloves. So there we stood, in our bare feet on the green grass of our neighbor’s lawn and we began to box.

The two oldest kids decided to go first, Jim and Mike. Mike was wiry and fast, but Jim was a big, strong, muscular athlete. After they put their socks on over their hands and arms they faced each other with fists ready in fighting position. The rest of us watched egging them on. One kid not in the match gave the countdown, “Ready, set, fight!” Jim and Mike circled each other and Mike took the first swing hitting Jim right on the chest. It landed softly causing Jim to laugh, “Is that all you got?” Mike swung again hitting Jim on the arm. Again, resulting in laughter. Mike circled around Jim taking swing after swing, landing one here and another one there, but all Jim could do was smile and giggle.

And then after allowing a few more punches, Jim wound up and swung a large righthanded roundhouse hitting Mike square in the face. Splat! Jim’s fist landed on Mike’s nose causing it to gush a red river of blood. Mike dropped his hands down and said, “No more, I am finished. Jim punches too hard.” Jim said, “Anyone else want to box me?” There were no takers, and that was the end of boxing with socks on in the backyard.

I feel like my words of late have been landing on the hearts and minds of people like a flurry of Mike’s soft punches landing on Jim’s chest. A lot bluster and fuss but no power. I work hard to make my words land hard, I try to use interesting illustrations, or while in my office during counseling sessions I try to use logic to make a point, or even with my kids I try to be passionate and compelling with my reasons for godly living. But I feel like my words have been landing like Mike’s punches. A lot of bluster and fuss but no power.

It is easy to give advice, or great counseling or well-crafted sermons that may even draw some laughter and tears – – but life-change is a different matter altogether. I don’t want my audience to merely listen, or laugh, I want people, who after they hear my words, they want to quit fighting. I wish my words landed like Jim’s fists. Where warnings caused repentance and promises resulted in faith.

Maybe Zechariah was right after all, “This is the word of the LORD to Zerubbabel: Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the LORD of hosts.” (Zech. 4:6)

Does change in life come from good arguments and find sound sermons or the Spirit of God? Does repentance occur because someone gets mad? I wish I could talk people into heaven and right living. I wish my passionate pleading could stop someone from sinning. But mere human words are like a small fist in a sock, nothing too impressive nor powerful.

I want to see some bloody noses!