Thursday Th(ink)s - February 5, 2026

The Devil Talks Too Much

Welcome to Thursday! Let’s talk and I’ll spread a little ink…

When my youngest daughter was five, she announced, out of nowhere, that she “would not invite the devil to Bible study.”

I let the eggs fry without supervision and asked, “Why?”

“Because,” she informed me, “he would talk too much.”

I went back to the eggs, murmuring that I was sure she was right and that this was a solid decision I’d fully support. No devil at Bible study. House rules established. Theology settled while eggs fried.

Children have a way of identifying the real problem and skipping all the unnecessary footnotes.

It wasn’t the devil’s ideology she objected to, it was his verbosity. Too much noise. Too much airtime. Too much commentary. Even at five, she understood that some voices don’t need to be heard.

Today is National Time to Talk Day. Which means—apparently—it’s time to talk. So I will. About aging. Because that’s what I do now. More specifically, I want to talk about my growing preference not to talk.

Hubs and I have a small drama we engage in from time to time. I’ll say, “Hubs, I have something to say about my feelings and I’m about to start. Could you give me fifty seconds to say it? Then you can jump in and tell me how you feel. I only need fifty seconds.”

He is excellent at talking about feelings. Olympic-level. I, on the other hand, am more of a Primary School Intramural sports kind of gal. If words were spoken competition he’d win gold; I’d win the blue ribbon for participation.

Aging has slowed my mouth down even more. Not because I have less to say, but because there’s already enough oxygen being given to hot air. I don’t need to add to it. Much of life stays inside my head, where it’s quieter. I enjoy the long interior conversations: checking in with myself, asking how I’m really doing, letting thoughts finish their sentences before I interrupt them.

There’s a kind of nourishing economy to restraint. I don’t need to fill space just because it’s available.

Scripture is full of silence. Waiting. Guarding the heart. Even Jesus often withdrew, not to prepare a better argument, but to be alone with the Father.

But here’s what I’m careful about: I don’t let the devil attend inside my head.

He’s not invited. Never was. Never will be.

Because he still talks too much.

The devil’s specialty is narration. Commentary. Endless analysis. He shows up unannounced and begins explaining your life to you: why you failed, what you missed, how you should have known better by now. He calls noise, insight. He’s such a liar.

And the last thing this old gal needs is a talkative devil setting up a chaise lounge in my inner sanctuary.

Aging has taught me that a settled soul doesn’t argue constantly. It listens. It notices. It lets eggs fry while truth speaks plainly.

So yes, today is Time to Talk Day. But Thursday—this fifth drawer down in life—reminds me that it’s also time to choose when not to.

Some conversations don’t deserve airtime. Some voices don’t get a vote. And some Bible studies are better attended by silence, a little wisdom, and a firm guest list.

No devil. He talks too much.

Big Brains: “And the devil, he’s in trouble; I can see it in his eyes. If you don’t give him shelter, he won’t have no place to hide.” Hoyt Axton

Old Souls: “'I don't think...'" "'Then you shouldn't talk,' said the Hatter.”

Lewis Carroll

The Ancient of Days: "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to keep silence, and a time to speak." Ecclesiastes 3:1, 7

NJ Quote:
The older I get the stricter my guest list becomes.

Thursday Chat: It may be that you need to talk on “Time to Talk Day.” Do it. Give yourself more than 50 seconds if you need it. Just don’t give the devil a chair in the circle.