Do You Speak God’s Language?

Photo by Jonathan Meyer on Unsplash

Religious language is a strange bird. It conveys more than we might imagine.

We tend to analyze one another’s religious terminology to decide where we’re coming from spiritually. Think of it as a dialect that tells us what part of the spiritual landscape each of us inhabits.

Language functions this way because it taps into the unconscious, revealing what’s in our hearts and minds — largely unfiltered. So when others are speaking, we listen for clues that will give us categories to put them in. Then we feel confident to offer an appropriate response. It’s a habit most everyone follows, no matter their beliefs. Yet religious talk takes things a step further.

Christians speak a certain way, using words like “blessing” and “God told me.” It can be disconcerting if you don’t know the lingo and the meaning behind it.

I’m an anthropologist so I notice such things. I’ve also been a Christian for 47 years — a darned long time. (If I wasn’t, I would have said a “damned long time.”) I think you get the point.

The Christian Lexicon

Certainly the first thing Christians listen for is whether the speaker is a “true believer.” This, of course, differs according to one’s theology and denominational bent. If someone repeatedly says “Oh my God!” it throws up a red flag for many. And folks immediately wonder if that person can be a “real believer” and so casually ignore the Third Commandment.

While giving a speech at Liberty University during the last presidential campaign, then candidate Donald Trump used the word “hell” a few times, breaking the school’s policy on obscene and profane language. Furthermore, he said “2 Corinthians” rather than “Second Corinthians,” indicating that he wasn’t familiar with proper Bible lingo, and possibly the Bible itself. The student message board buzzed with concern and criticism. Many wondered if he qualified as a “born-again” Christian.

His faux-pas reminds us that the words we use to discuss God are thoroughly scrutinized by Christian listeners — unconsciously for the most part. The term “God” is safe enough to use any time and place, but for many comes brimming with judgment if ever linked to the pronoun “she.” So too is the way we reference the third member of the Trinity, the Holy Spirit.

Many contemporary believers drop the article “the” in order to infer an actual Person and the personable nature of (the) Holy Spirit. A whole theology and lifestyle lies behind its use. However, if a person just says “Spirit,” they are most often considered a New Ager. So too with the name of Jesus. I’ve met folks who insist that referencing “Christ” alone shows a liberal bent. They’ve determined that “Jesus” is ok so long as “Jesus Christ” is peppered in now and then to mitigate their concern about the spread of liberal theology.

All this scrutinizing can leave you feeling like you’re walking on eggshells!

The subtleties of religious language are what we call shibboleths, a term taken from the unsettling story in Judges 12. We listen for shibboleths and draw conclusions about one another based on their use, not just in religious life but in every dimension of human interaction. They’re part of the outward forms we humans use to judge one another, quite different from the way scripture tells us God judges by directly looking upon the contents of the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). We humans have largely limited ourselves to the use of sensory-based clues — speech, appearance, behavior, smells, and touch — to size one another up.

It seems perfectly natural. Right?

Friend or Foe

In general, the clues we collect while observing others are meant to answer one basic question: Is this person with and for me, or not. Is she “one of us” or “one of them?” Once decided, we can get a better handle on our other concerns. Am I threatened in any way? Will this person take advantage of me? Will they accepted me? Can they help me with my personal agenda?

Thus, we inadvertently divide the world into “our people” and “not our people,” and assess one another in that singular light. The borders we draw between “us” and “them” are considered necessary to protect us from danger and to allow us to better negotiate our way in a world of uncertainty. Or so we tell ourselves…

More times than not, we get things wrong and draw lines where none should ever exist. Happens all the time. Judging someone by their speech, appearance, or behavior assumes we’re privy to objectivity when in fact we’re trapped in restrictive bogs of subjectivity. None of us can really understand another person merely through our initial perceptions of them. Although I tell myself again and again that my first perceptions are often faulty, I find myself repeatedly falling prey to the same old habit of relying on them anyway.

I’d wager I’m in good company.

Here’s what I’ve found lies behind my foibles. I tend to judge others out of my own insecurities, foisting upon them whatever uncertainties I carry inside. It constitutes a classic case of projection. And it’s detrimental to the soul.

In Matthew 7:1–2 Jesus taught that when we judge one another (that is, condemn in some way), we implicate ourselves in the process. God doesn’t have to condemn us. He’s wired our consciences to apply the same standard to ourselves that we use to judge others. It’s a clever design — one meant to lead us away from judgmentalism.

What’s the Alternative?

One of my favorite verses in the Bible is found in Isaiah 11:3 where it speaks of the coming Messiah, the Root of Jesse. It reads, “He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears; but with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.”

Later, in answering charges brought against him by the Pharisees, Jesus reaffirmed Isaiah’s prophesy when he said he did not judge by “human standards” but only by what the Father told him (John 8:15). In fact, Jesus said he didn’t come to earth to condemn anyone, but only that the world might be saved through him (John 12:47).

Yet Jesus did judge others, in particular religious and civil authorities who misused their positions to oppress the poor and disadvantaged. However, he did not do so using “human standards” but strictly according to what his Father told him, rendering his judgements just and true John 5:30. In other words, Jesus did not employ his subjective, human perceptions to evaluate those with whom he interacted. Rather, he listened for God’s voice in the matter — the only objective measure available to flesh and blood.

Can we possibly do the same?

The Language of Love

During my lengthy tenure in Christendom I have met a few believers who managed to come close. One of them was my late son, who once told me he always listened for the voice of God whenever he met or talked with someone. While I was busy thinking of a clever or insightful response, he was quietly tuning in to the Lord of the Universe. And he often had a heart-melting word from God that addressed an immediate concern of theirs, amazing and encouraging them greatly. I witnessed it many times, amazed myself.

It was part of the language of love he spoke — the universal tongue every person on the face of this wide and wonderful earth understands perfectly. My son loved with wild abandon. People felt it and knew it was genuine. Through him I learned so much about our shared faith and about life in general. As I sat on the edge of the pool with my feet tentatively placed in the water, he was all in — completely submerged.

And that made all the difference to those he met.

I don’t aspire to be a “spiritual giant” who can largely escape my subjective and often judgmental assessments of others. That stretch along the road of religious striving leads nowhere worthwhile. Instead, I have set a course to learn to speak more and more of the language of love. I’m convinced that the more fluent any of us becomes in the vernacular of heaven —communicating the fiercely passionate love of God to those we encounter— the less we will be inclined to criticize and condemn them. And the more our manner of life will be worthy of the liberating gospel we’re privileged to share.

So the next time we’re tempted to critically interpret the religious lingo of others, it would be best to pull out the dependable lexicon of love. It will help us to live in, reflect, and exude the love and acceptance of God that is the hallmark of our faith. Only then can we erase the exclusionary and judgmental lines drawn between “us” and “them,” and see expressed the life-changing impact inherent in a gospel without borders.