The date on my letter says December 4, 1997.

In a book written by a professor at an Adventist college somewhere, the author was lambasting the rest of the Christian world for worshiping on Sunday instead of keeping the Sabbath. In one chapter, he had run a cartoon of mine and given it a negative slant.

So, I hastily scratched out a hand-written letter to him. Here it is, verbatim:

“Dear Mr. Spencer,

On page 29 of (name of the book), you have printed a cartoon of mine without permission.  You will please remove it from any subsequent printings. I receive requests all the time and am always happy to grant permission to use my cartoons free of charge. I am not surprised you did not ask, seeing the slanderous way you deal with opposing points of view.

Your committee’s name (Committee for the Preservation of Truth) is very humorous. You will have to find the truth, sir, before you start preserving it. Your explanation (in the book) of Colossians 2:16 must have sent you to the chiropractor, with all that bending, stretching, etc.”

That was the letter.

I didn’t send it.

The next morning, after reading over the note, I scratched out a different one.

“Dear Mr. Spencer,

On page 29 of (your book) you have printed a cartoon of mine. Unless I am mistaken, this was done without permission. Therefore, I ask you to remove it from any subsequent printings.

Mr. Spencer, I long for the day when someone will write such books in love and not a spirit of unkindness.  Good people often disagree on doctrine, and the test of believers is not whether we all agree or not, but whether we love. Paul urges us to “speak the truth in love.” As soon as you begin practicing it, I suggest you may call your committee “for preservation of truth and love.”

This one we mailed.

A few days later, I received a note from that professor, humbly begging my pardon, saying he had not known how to get in touch with the cartoonist, and he would be sure to remove it from future printings.  He said nothing about my little “dig” concerning the ugly spirit he demonstrated in his writing.  But I had made my point.

I’m glad we didn’t send the first one. There is no point in antagonizing a wrongdoer when it would be wiser to demonstrate the spirit of love we’re seeking in him.

Harry Truman once wrote a blistering letter to a newspaper’s music critic who had panned his daughter Margaret’s voice recital. In the letter, he threatened to come to the man’s home and do physical damage to him of the worst kind. Then, he thought better of it and dropped the letter into a file of “written but unsent” mail. I think–but am not sure–that someone once published an entire book of the letters Truman wrote but never sent.

A deacon in a church I once pastored had been president of the American Bankers Association and was at that time an official in the Reagan administration. On one occasion, while his wife was having surgery, I shared a hospital waiting room for several hours with this good man and picked his brain on lessons in leadership he had learned over the years. One principle which I wrote down and vowed never to violate said: “Never put anything negative in a letter. Negative issues are to be dealt with personally or over the phone. But anything in a letter will outlive you and cause you to regret it.”

I have stupidly violated that principle. And alas, proved its point.

In a later pastorate, we had an unhappy deacon who was forever harassing me and slandering me to anyone who would listen to his rants. He dodged every attempt of mine to meet and talk. So, finally, I quit trying to sit down with him and wrote a letter demanding that he start acting like a Christian.

He carried that letter all over the church and throughout the community, showing it to everyone and putting his own ugly spin on it.

I knew better, but did it anyway, and came to regret it almost immediately.

But no one writes letters any more, do they? Maybe not, but have you heard of the internet? Are you on Facebook?

The advantage of the internet–particularly Facebook–is the instant communication it allows us. That is also its danger.

You write something in the heat of the moment and regret it the rest of your life.

At this moment, the 2012 presidential campaign is in full swing. Tonight, the second debate between Obama and Romney will take place. Today on my Facebook page, I quoted my dad who had an important word of wisdom for pastors who feel strongly about one candidate or the other. In essence, he said: “Leave your politics out of the pulpit. You do not want a visitor to reject your Savior because they reject your politics. You have bigger issues than this election.”

As expected, the comments piled up in a hurry. Two men in particular–a preacher and a businessman–took strong issue with that comment and left angry sentiments for all the world to see. Not content to register their convictions, they then argued with others leaving comments. Finally, I sent notes to both that their point of view had been duly noted and they should now leave room for others to weigh in on the subject. They are close to being “unfriended.”

Facebook is a wonderful but dangerous social tool. It allows one to connect with people of all nationalities and various beliefs far and wide and to have an incredible influence, if they do it right. But if they spew their venom on “friends,” cast dispersion on those disagreeing with them, and pour out angry ravings on people they perceive as the “bad guys,” they become an embarrassment to the Christian faith.

I often pray about what to write on this blog and what statements to post on Facebook. Once in a while, I have returned to the internet to dig out some statement of mine on which I had second thoughts, and deleted it.

The Psalmist didn’t do email or Facebook, but he certainly knew the problems which could be caused by rash and harsh statements. He prayed,

“Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth; Keep watch over the door of my lips” (Psalm 141:3).

Indeed, Lord.