Thesis 18: The Whole Fucking World

Thesis 18: The Whole Fucking World

This past week, our pastor told us to avoid people who use bad language. “We stay away from and disregard people who swear and say bad things,” he said, “and this is right and good.”

No, it isn’t.

Church has long conditioned its followers to believe that rough or challenging language (especially swearing) is the language of the damned. In some ways, I’m a product of this. I grew up hearing Church’s pearl-clutching attitude towards bad language, and to this day it feels wrong to swear out loud. So I don’t (although the recent election has made me more comfortable with it), even though biblically speaking, my mouth can produce no language that can keep me from the love of Christ.

But that’s a choice for me, not for me to impose on others.

The bible says a lot about language, and this often gets used out of context to scare Church followers straight (especially from the OT, which is clearly a delightful bag of joy). But if we view scripture as a whole (and we’re called to), passages about language are used to caution us not to hold specific expletives in, but against spreading careless or misleading language to those we’re serving in Christ’s name. Blasphemy and dropping the occasional f-bomb are not the same thing.

In other words, you’re not going to hell if you hit your thumb with a hammer and the whole neighbourhood hears the screamed four-letter word you’ve selected for the occasion. (And honestly, telling some people to fuck off and die might actually be the holiest thing you can say.)

Worse still, misreading of what scripture says about language hinders our efforts to fulfill the great commission. Frankly, Churchgoers who stuff their ears when they leave Church to “guard” themselves against the world’s bad language are useless. You can’t change the world if you’re not listening to it.

Perhaps even more tragically, if you tune the world out, you can’t learn from it. This often gets forgotten as Churchgoers think about and carry out what they think are “missions.” The message gets delivered one-way and the incredible resources of other cultures and beliefs get dismissed and/or scorned. And I’m not just talking about those racist and colonially-tainted activities overseas, but in our neighbourhoods as well.

We are called to learn from and serve everyone who’s different than we are. Jesus created the model for this by eating with and loving on the most hated, ostracized, and vulnerable people in the communities he served. In today’s world, he’d sit with the bikers and white supremacists, the murderers and drug dealers, the addicted and the unhoused, and the oppressed outsiders in every community. He’d have a meal with abortion providers. He’d share the bathroom with every gender. I don’t know if he’d march in a Pride parade but he sure as fuck would plaster church doors with rainbow stickers.

And there’s no possible way he’d stop loving everyone, even if they scorched the air with language that could make demons blush. He simply wouldn’t care.

I don’t care, either. I want to pay attention. Listen. Love. So, although that instinct to bind my words is still real, I’ve worked hard to ditch the puritanical nonsense with which Church burdens its followers.

I’ve always been a seeker and questioner, and my life journey has taken me places my Church and Christian school friends couldn’t fathom. Competitive sports without a Christian kid in sight and plenty of rough behaviour. Rock, EDM, and hip-hop concerts (real music, not that CCM pablum) with booze and marijuana and a complete lack of concern over bad language. Immersing myself in earthy books and movies and TV with blood and sex and epic bad choices. Part time jobs where fellow youthful employees drank and smoked and fornicated, inviting me to participate, which I did. I served in the military, where all the same stuff happened and where the language can strip the skin from your face. I lived overseas for many years, absorbing Muslim and Confucian cultures and stories.

And yet, despite every warning Church ever gave me, I haven’t been swallowed by a swamp of iniquity or lost my faith or had my beliefs challenged at every turn. Rather, I’ve largely been surrounded by kind, good people doing meaningful and honest things. Holy people, unexpected saints of every variety.

Or to put a finer point on it, the entire fucking world is filled with fallen folks who’re doing a hell of a better job at listening to, serving, loving their neighbours, and impacting culture and the larger world than most Christians I know. Why? Because they’re paying attention, largely untroubled and undistracted by others who speak differently.

We are called to do the same.

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