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Jim McCrory

What is This Dark Place We Have Entered?

Monday 17 August 2026 at 08:19
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Edited by Jim McCrory, Saturday 29 August 2026 at 07:21

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What is This Dark Place We Have Entered?

Proverbs 29:18 says, “Where there is no vision, the people cast off restraint.” There is something deeply sobering about those words when we look at the direction of much of modern Western society. When people lose sight of God, they can also lose sight of the deeper meaning of life. The boundaries that once gave moral shape to our lives begin to weaken, and ideas that were once understood as destructive can gradually be presented as expressions of freedom.

Across much of Europe, we seem to be living through a kind of spiritual twilight. Faith is increasingly treated by some as an outdated relic, while unbelief is presented as evidence of intellectual progress. We are encouraged to believe that humanity has finally grown mature enough to live without God, without divine authority and without any fixed moral truth beyond what we choose for ourselves.

But I wonder whether we have confused freedom with independence.

What does freedom really mean if we have no higher purpose? What happens when a human being is told that there is no God, no eternal meaning and no moral reality beyond personal choice? We may call that liberation, but perhaps there is another word for it: being adrift.

It reminds me of The Emperor’s New Clothes. Everyone praised the emperor's magnificent clothing because nobody wanted to admit what was plainly before them. The truth was uncomfortable, so people chose to participate in the illusion.

Sometimes our culture can feel like that. Certain ideas are accepted because they are called progressive, even when we have not honestly examined where they lead. We are told that throwing off every restraint is freedom, that rejecting God is enlightenment, and that morality is simply something humanity invents for itself. Yet perhaps we should have the courage to ask whether the emperor is actually wearing any clothes.

The Christian answer is not to respond with anger or contempt. Scripture points us towards something much better.

Micah 6:8 says, “He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?”

There is remarkable simplicity in those words. Justice. Mercy. Humility. These are not the foundations of oppression, but of a truly human society. They remind us that Christianity is not simply about winning arguments against unbelief. It is about learning how to live rightly before God and with one another.

Perhaps Europe does not need another political slogan or another attempt to manufacture meaning from within ourselves. Perhaps what we need is the humility to look beyond ourselves again.

When humanity turns away from God, it may believe it has escaped restraint, but it can also lose its direction. We were never created merely to wander through life choosing our own temporary meanings. We were created for relationship with our Creator.

And perhaps the road out of this darkness begins not with pride, but with humility: to seek God again, to love mercy, to practise justice, and to walk humbly with Him.

Tags: Europe's Crisis, Britain, why is the world talking about us, The Emperor’s New Clothes, Proverbs 29:18, Micah 6:8
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Jim McCrory

The Empty Words of the Gossiper: A Universal Story

Thursday 5 June 2025 at 08:14
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Edited by Jim McCrory, Saturday 19 July 2025 at 16:03

 

 

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Image generated with the assistance of ChatGPT

 

The Empty Words of the Gossiper: A Universal Story

I have blogged now and again about the subject of of Gossip and slander. It gets a considerable amount visitors which indicates many are hurting out there. So, I return to this matter.

Gossipers wear many masks—some colourful, some clever, some cunning—but beneath each is the same crooked smile. Across languages and cultures, the act of speaking ill of others behind closed doors (or wide-open mouths) has a universally negative connotation. Whether passed on in whispers or laughter, gossip’s damage is rarely denied, only disguised.

In Urdu, the word khabarcheen captures the essence of a “news-spreader”—but it is not the noble herald of truth. Rather, the khabarcheen is a figure of mistrust, lurking in social corners with ears pricked and mouth eager. In Cuban Spanish, the phrase Radio Bemba—“lip radio”—offers a biting metaphor: our mouths become unwelcome broadcasters, tuned into the private lives of others and transmitting with no regard for truth or tenderness. The names change, but the ugliness stays.

Even in the warmth of friendship or familial settings, gossip sneaks in during sobremesa, the Spanish term for that leisurely time after a meal when stories are shared. Yet how quickly sweetness sours. The shift from connection to cruelty is subtle, like honey left too long on the tongue.

Gossip rarely presents itself as evil. Like she­momedjamo, the Georgian word for “I accidentally ate the whole thing,” it is indulgence disguised as innocence. One might begin with a simple observation—harmless, surely—and before long, the feast of someone else’s misfortunes is consumed with relish.

Children are taught early to beware of the sharp tongue. Snow White’s downfall is plotted not through swords but through whispers—“Who is the fairest of them all?” The Queen’s envy finds voice long before it finds poison. In The Emperor’s New Clothes, it is not just the emperor who is mocked, but an entire society complicit in falsehood, gossiping behind closed doors rather than speaking with courage.

The brothers Grimm were moral cartographers, warning of wolves not only in forests but also in hearts. Little Red Riding Hood is taught to beware the stranger—but in many ways, the more insidious danger lies in the idle chatter that leads her off her path, that lulls her into complacency.

Gossip is the wolf in slippers.

In Hinglish, we call it badmouthing, a hybrid term that bridges two cultures, neither of which approves of it. In Inuit, iktsuarpok describes the anticipation of someone’s arrival—a word not for gossip, but akin to it in the way we itch for updates, unable to sit still until the latest scandal walks through the door. We act as though we await news, but often we await blood.

Even languages known for restraint, like Swedish, cloak criticism in civility. Lagom, meaning “just the right amount,” suggests balance and moderation—but someone who gossips disturbs this harmony. They upset the balance of the room, the respect in the air. In Japanese, wabi-sabi reminds us to accept the imperfections of others. Gossip is its antithesis: it rejects grace and replaces it with scrutiny.

From Easter Island, we have tingo, meaning to slowly borrow things from a neighbour and never return them. It mirrors gossip’s theft: taking someone’s reputation, piece by piece, and never giving it back.

Even in drag culture, where humour and drama dance hand in hand, the word kiki—a gathering for laughter and gossip—is only joyful until someone becomes the punchline. The smile fades when it is your name under their tongue.

Gossip is a virus disguised as a voice.
It is smoke from a fire you didn’t light—yet it chokes you all the same.
It is a feather pillow torn open in the wind—impossible to gather once released.

The Bible itself warns that the gossiper isolates themselves by losing close friends.

“A perverse person stirs up conflict, and a gossip separates close friends.” (Proverbs 16:28)

The Hebrew tongue calls the gossiper a rachil, literally a merchant—peddling information for social currency. It is telling that gossip is treated like trade: a transactional act, not a relational one.

Every culture knows it. Every language finds a word for it. And every word is, whether wrapped in humour or habit, an ugly one. There is no beautiful term for gossip, because gossip is, at heart, the betrayal of beauty. It mocks all that is good. It fractures trust. It takes what is private and parades it as entertainment.

As a child I was told, “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” A nursery saying, but a profoundly grown-up truth.

Because in the end, the tongue can set fire to a forest (James 3:5), and we must choose—daily, deliberately—whether we will be arsonists or architects.

Make the world a better place and walk away from those who gossip. When we listen to them, we reward them and it becomes their addiction. 

Tags: khabarcheen, Radio Bemba, she­momedjamo, The Emperor’s New Clothes, Snow White, badmouthing, Lagom, wabi-sabi, rachil
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Jim McCrory

When Truth Feels Heavy but Heals

Monday 13 June 2022 at 20:34
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Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday 12 February 2026 at 08:41

“Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.”

Proverbs 12:25 

When Truth Feels Heavy but Heals

 

Proverbs 12:25 says, “Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.” It’s a simple truth, yet it carries a depth we often underestimate. Kind words have the power to lift, steady, and strengthen someone who feels burdened. But kindness isn’t only softness; sometimes kindness is truth spoken gently, even when the truth is uncomfortable.

There’s a tension here. We know truthful words can heal, guide, and protect. Yet many people resist them because truth can expose what we’d rather ignore. It can challenge habits, attitudes, or choices we’ve grown attached to. And when someone is already weighed down, truth—even spoken kindly—can feel like another weight rather than a gift. But Scripture reminds us that truth and kindness are not opposites. Truth becomes life-giving when wrapped in compassion, patience, and humility.

A helpful metaphor comes from a familiar children’s story: The Emperor’s New Clothes. In the story, the emperor is so eager to appear wise and impressive that he embraces a lie. Everyone around him, afraid of offending him, repeats the lie. Only a child speaks the truth—that the emperor is wearing nothing at all. The truth was simple, honest, and meant no harm. But the emperor didn’t like it because it exposed his pride. Still, that truth was the only thing that could free him from the illusion he had trapped himself in.

We’re not so different. Sometimes we prefer flattery, silence, or avoidance because truth feels like a mirror we don’t want to look into. But kind truth—spoken with the heart of someone who wants our good—is a gift. It may sting for a moment, but it strengthens us in the long run. It clears away illusions, helps us grow, and lightens the burdens we carry by aligning us with what is real.

And on the other side, when we are the ones offering truth, Proverbs 12:25 reminds us to deliver it with gentleness. A kind word doesn’t avoid truth; it carries truth in a way that lifts rather than crushes. It considers timing, tone, and the heart of the person receiving it. It aims not to win an argument but to build up a soul.

Kind truth is not always welcomed, but it is always needed. And when spoken with love, it becomes the very thing that cheers a weighed-down heart.

 

 

Tags: Proverbs 12:25, The Emperor’s New Clothes
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