I recently read an article that says the loudest human snoring registers around 111 decibels, the same noise level as a jackhammer.
That doesn’t surprise me because I happen to be married to a very lovable “jackhammer.” Okay, maybe my husband’s snoring doesn’t quite reach the 111-decibel mark, but Joe’s honks, snorts and rumbles can certainly be impressive at times.
Since government regulations require hearing protection for workers subjected to noise levels over 90 decibels, I thought that might be a good idea for me, too, so my nightly bedtime routine includes stuffing moldable silicone plugs in my ears until they’re just about scraping my cerebellum.
Sleeping with earplugs took some getting used to, but it certainly has reduced the fussing, poking and marital disharmony at our house during the wee hours. It has also, however, resulted in a few weird earplug-related incidents.
I awoke one recent morning and discovered my left earplug was missing. I searched and searched, but it seemed to have vanished. I began to fear I’d swallowed it, a reasonable fear as you’ll understand in a few moments. Until, that is, I took out my right earplug and noticed how huge it was. During the night, I’d obviously managed to remove the left plug and combine it with the right one without ever waking up.
It seems to me that’s just one short step away from doing other crazy stuff in my sleep, like eating, which I never, ever want to do. I would hate to wake up with Oreo crumbs on my lips, having never consciously enjoyed eating them. A calorie is a terrible thing to waste.
My other earplug incidents occurred while I was having dreams that involved chewing gum. I’m not sure what else the dreams were about, but I distinctly remember they included some aggressive gum-chewing. When I awoke the following mornings, my earplugs were lying on my nightstand covered with teeth marks. Seems it wasn’t gum I was chewing all night after all. Yuck.
What if I’d choked to death on those earplugs? What would Joe have told everyone at my funeral—“She always said my snoring would be the death of her”? Death by earplug is certainly not the way I want to go out.
It’s these earplug-chewing incidents that brought to mind the spiritual metaphor I will now share: We need to be careful about what we’re chewing on—literally, yes, but even more when it comes to what we mentally chew on.
Sometimes we allow dark, destructive and dangerous thoughts into our minds—thoughts we should never be entertaining—and if we chew on them long enough, they can wreck our lives.
How do extramarital affairs begin? With a lustful, illicit thought. How does every act of murder begin? With an angry, hateful thought. How does every robbery begin? With a greedy thought. And so it goes.
The Bible describes the process this way in James 1:14-15 (New Living Translation): “Temptation comes from our own desires, which entice us and drag us away. These desires give birth to sinful actions. And when sin is allowed to grow, it gives birth to death.”
Between the desires and the sinful actions, there are thoughts—thoughts we shouldn’t be chewing on.
That’s why the Bible instructs us to “take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5). That sounds exhausting, but training ourselves to think in a way that lines up with God’s word and His character is simply a discipline, like other disciplines, that gets easier with practice. And boy, does it yield good fruit in our lives.
Next time you find yourself chewing on a bad thought, just think of it as a big ole waxy earplug. Aversion therapy at its finest, and I won’t even send you a bill.