By Maria Sermersheim
Meditatione Ignis
In conversation with a few friends lately, I have become more aware of our frequent use of superlatives, the adjectives which signify the highest degree of something: it was the best day, the worst coffee, the hottest summer, the saddest movie. These conversations have prompted me to consider how this frequent use of superlatives might change our perceptions of what is possible in our lives.
It seems that superlatives pose a few dangers if we indulge in them too freely: not only do they flatten our vocabulary, but they contribute to the erasure of nuance, and most importantly, they warp our recognition of the redemptive potential in our own actions as well as the interventions of God. If we only perceive events in superlative degrees, then we do not allow space for grace and the providential designs of God beyond our perception.
Now, I am not advocating for a total diminishment of our descriptions — I am not a fan of the French “pas mal,” their frequent description for anything in the realm of “fine” and better … even great things fall into this category of “not bad”! I think there is merit and beauty in describing the world in more vibrant colors with our words. However, it is important to be attentive to the fact that the way we speak shapes the way we think. If everything we experience is depicted in its superlative form, then we leave little space in our described reality for God to work.
Seeing the hand of God at work in our lives often comes with hindsight. The revision of our perceptions of life events is always possible, even when we describe things with superlatives in the moment and afterwards. But I think that we may be more inclined to see the hand of God at work in the present, as well as more open to refining our vision of the past, if we dole out fewer superlatives in our speech.
The fish you catch can still be the biggest you’ve ever seen, and the heaviest your friends could ever imagine. I have no desire to ruin the classically exaggerated stories of the greatest fishing trips! I merely hope that we each pause a little more often to consider our words and what they reflect about our hopes for ourselves and for God. It is less about the variety and excellence of our vocabulary and more about the truth of the narratives of our lives. What are the stories that we tell ourselves about our potential (to change either ourselves or our circumstances) and about God’s desire to “work all things for the good for those who love him” (Romans 8:28)?