By Greg Jones
“I Do Declare.” “Well, I declare.” “Well, I do de-clay-uh.”
This is the stereotypical Southern phrase, no matter the exact parsing. Of course, in my many years in Virginia and North Carolina, I’m not sure I’ve actually heard anyone say it — except for actors and folks pretending to talk ‘Southern’.
On my favorite show The Office, the main character pretended to be a Southerner in one episode, and he said, “Well, I do Declayah” over and over again.
Of course, it’s not just a stereotypical Southern phrase, it’s British as well. For centuries, English priests, professors and government workers all had to swear allegiance and declare the supremacy of the English Crown in all matters.
The oath began … “I do declare that no foreign prince, person, prelate, states or potentate hath or ought to have any jurisdiction, power, superiority, pre-eminence or authority, ecclesiastical or spiritual, within this realm. So help me God, etc.”
And this should come as no surprise, because the English concept of Kingdom was built upon belief not only in the divine right of kings, but in the sacred power of oaths — of allegiance, loyalty, supremacy, and so on.
In the medieval mind, the bonds between lord and servant, between Crown and Mitre, between God and King, were all forged in the power of uttered promises. Sacred oaths.
These ideas predate the Middle Ages in fact, and, have survived into the present — a good bit anyway. Our country was born in just such a declaration … when the signers pledged to each other their lives, fortunes and sacred honor in solemnly publishing and declaring independence from the crown.
Yes, I still believe in oaths and promises and declarations.
I think when we say, “I do declare that…” or “I believe…” or “I will with God’s help…” we a bit of magic happens.
In my view the words we use in oaths and vows are life-changing, life-defining, and life-affirming; and those magic words have a life of their own.
A promise. An oath. A Declaration. These are not just words. These are logoi … proclamations … utterances … made not of letters, but of souls.
In Acts, the Holy Spirit comes upon the followers of Jesus Christ gathered in his name. The sacred wind, the designing fire of the cosmos, lights them up, and they speak. Not murmur. Not hub-bub. Not babble. No, they speak … in language … about God.
They’re declaring about who God is, and what God wants, and how God is going to speak through everybody to everybody.
This isn’t talk-is-cheap-talk. No this is Utterance. As the literal translation of Acts 2.4 says, “They were filled with the Holy Spirit, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.”
This word for utterance here in Greek is rare (only in the Bible three times total; and all in Acts.) The word has to do with speech that bursts forth from inside …like a volcano … an eruption … a declaration.
The Spirit of God gave them utterance, so the truths of God could burst forth from within them to be testified and heard all around them.
Can you speak the Truth? Can I?
What are you talking about in your life? What sort of speaking are you doing? Is it all conversation? Or survival? Or fellowship? Or interrogative? Or rhetorical? That’s all well and good, the speech of everyday life is what it is.
Birds whistle, dogs bark, and people talk, talk, talk. But, let me ask you: Have you anything to declare? Is the Holy Spirit of God setting your brain and heart on fire with love for God and neighbor and self? Has the Spirit of God given you utterance? I think so.
I think the Spirit of God has been poured out on all of us who call on Jesus; and we have within us words which need to bubble out and forward and around.
These words, these declarations, make up our life together in community where God speaks to us and through us.
The Spirit of God is so real, friends, and this wise lady of Scripture does declare. What part of her declaration of independence from sin and death is bursting forth within you to be uttered?
What do you declare?
The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones (‘Greg’) is rector of St. Michael’s in Raleigh, N.C., a trustee of General Seminary and the bass player in indie-rock band The Balsa Gliders — whose fourth studio release is available on iTunes. He blogs at Anglican Centrist.