INTRODUCTION

This episode was born out of a discussion that recently took place at my dining room table. I mulled on the conversation for quite a while and decided it was time to write down my thoughts. Today we’re talking about cancel culture, specifically with the words we use.

There are certain words that, ten years ago, you could say without a second thought. Nobody flinched. Nobody gasped. Nobody pulled out their phone to Google whether you were about to get canceled.

And now? You say one of those same words and suddenly the room goes quiet. Someone clears their throat. Someone else gently says, “Hey… we don’t really say that anymore.”

At this point I feel like I need a software update for my vocabulary. Version 3.7.2: Patch Notes — “Fixed outdated adjectives. Removed culturally unstable nouns.”

But beneath the awkwardness, there’s something real happening.

Language is shifting.

Cultural sensitivity is rising.

Lines are being redrawn — sometimes weekly.

And as Christians, we can feel caught in the tension.

We don’t want to be careless or cruel.

We don’t want to unnecessarily offend.

But we also don’t want to bend truth to fit the moment.

So how do we live here?

How do we speak in a way that reflects Jesus in a world constantly changing the rules?

That’s what we’re talking about today.

Not cancel culture.

Not political outrage.

Formation.

Because before we ever talk about vocabulary, we have to talk about the heart behind it.

SECTION 1: The Heart Behind the Words

When we talk about language, we often focus on the "what"—the specific words, the evolving definitions, and the social rules that seem to change while we’re sleeping. But for the follower of Jesus, the conversation doesn't start with a dictionary; it starts with the heart. If we treat language like a minefield where we’re just trying not to get "blown up," we’ve already lost the plot. For the believer, language isn't a game of social survival—it’s an act of stewardship.

If we want to navigate 2026 with grace, we have to look past the vocabulary and look at the "source code" of our speech.

The Diagnostic of the Soul

In the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 12, verse 34, Jesus says something that should make every one of us pause: “For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” This isn't just a poetic proverb; it’s a spiritual diagnostic. Our words are like the check-engine light on a car's dashboard. They tell us what’s actually happening under the hood of our souls.

If you find yourself bristling with defensive anger every time a new term is introduced, that’s a heart issue. It might be a sign that your security is found in your cultural comfort rather than in Christ. On the other hand, if you find yourself using new language as a way to look down on others who "don't get it" yet, that’s also a heart issue—a sign of spiritual pride.

Before we ask, “Is this word allowed?” we have to ask, “What is happening in my heart right now?” Am I speaking out of a desire to be right, or a desire to be redemptive? Am I speaking out of fear of being "canceled," or am I speaking out of a genuine love for the person in front of me?

Formation Over Vocabulary

The real issue we face today isn’t a lack of the right vocabulary; it’s a lack of spiritual formation. We are being formed by the world around us every single day. If our primary "discipleship" comes from 24-hour news cycles or polarized social media feeds, our hearts will be formed for conflict. We will see every linguistic shift as a battle for territory.

But if we are being formed by the Spirit of God, our hearts are shaped for hospitality. Ephesians 4:29 gives us a different standard: “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.” Notice that Paul doesn't give a list of "approved words." Instead, he gives a set of criteria. Is it good for building up? Does it fit the occasion? Does it give grace? This is what I call "Contextual Kindness." It means that sometimes, the most "truthful" thing you can do is set aside your preferred terminology to make sure the person you’re talking to actually feels the weight of God’s love. You can be theologically correct and relationally catastrophic. If your "truth" is delivered with a tone that shuts down conversation, you’ve stopped being a witness and started being a wall.

The "Technically True" Trap

I think about a time I was talking with a neighbor who was going through a massive identity crisis. They were using language to describe themselves that, frankly, didn't line up with my theological framework. My "truth" instinct wanted to jump in and correct their definitions immediately. I had the verses ready. I had the logic prepared.

But the Holy Spirit whispered a question: “Do you want to win this argument, or do you want to love this person?”

I realized that if I spent the next twenty minutes arguing about semantics, I would miss the "abundance of the heart" that was sitting right in front of me. They were hurting. They were seeking. They were an image-bearer of God. By insisting on my "technically true" terminology in that moment, I would have been acting out of an abundance of pride, not an abundance of grace. Being "right" at the expense of a relationship isn't a victory; it's a failure of the heart.

Tone Matters More Than Content

We’ve all heard that "it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it." In a reactive age, this is 100% true. You can use the most "progressive" and inclusive language in the world, but if you say it with a smug, "I’m-more-enlightened-than-you" attitude, you aren't giving grace. Likewise, you can use traditional, "conservative" language, but if you say it with a "get-off-my-lawn" grumpiness, you aren't building anyone up.

Christians should be the best listeners in the room. Why? Because we aren't threatened by the world's shifts. We have a King who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. That security should make us the most relaxed, curious, and kind people on the planet. When the heart is secure in Christ, the mouth doesn't have to be defensive.

The Bridge-Building Heart

If the goal is to reflect Jesus, then our heart’s primary posture should be Bridge-Building. We should be looking for ways to use language to close the gap between a broken world and a loving Savior. Sometimes that means learning a new word. Sometimes it means being patient with someone who uses an old word.

Humorously, we often act like God is going to give us a vocab quiz at the Pearly Gates. "I'm sorry, you used the 2024 version of that term in 2026, you're out!" God isn't checking our vocabulary; He's checking our heartbeat. He wants to know if we used our words to heal or to hurt, to include or to exclude, to serve our own ego or to serve our neighbor.

Transition to the Next Step

If the heart is the source of our speech, then we have to get really honest about what kind of "offense" we are willing to carry. Because there is a massive difference between the offense that comes from the Gospel itself and the offense that comes from our own refusal to be kind.

In the next section, we’re going to look at how to tell the difference between "Unnecessary Offense" and "Gospel Offense." How do we know when to change our language out of love, and when to stand our ground out of conviction?

SECTION 2: Unnecessary Offense vs. Gospel Offense

If we’re going to be effective bridge-builders in 2026, we have to become experts in "clutter management." Think of it this way: if you’re trying to welcome someone into your home, you’re going to make sure the hallway isn't filled with old boxes and tripping hazards. You want the path to the living room to be as clear as possible. In our conversations, our words are either clearing the path to Jesus or they are adding to the pile of junk on the porch.

To navigate this, we have to distinguish between two very different types of offense: Unnecessary Offense and Gospel Offense. One is a result of our own baggage; the other is a result of the radical nature of the Cross.

Category 1: Unnecessary Offense

Unnecessary offense happens when the barrier to a relationship isn’t the Gospel—it’s our own stubbornness, nostalgia, or lack of empathy. It’s when we dig in our heels over a word or a phrase simply because "that’s how I’ve always said it" or "I shouldn't have to change for anyone."

Paul deals with this beautifully in 1 Corinthians 8. The "language war" of his day was actually a "dietary war" over meat sacrificed to idols. One group felt it was a compromise of faith to touch it; the other group felt their "theological freedom" gave them the right to eat whatever they wanted. Paul basically tells the "free" group: “Technically, you’re right. But if your 'rightness' causes someone else to stumble, or if it hurts a person Christ died for, then your 'rightness' is actually a sin against Christ.”

Love limits liberty.

In 2026, this looks like realizing that if a word has become a source of deep pain or exclusion for a neighbor, what does it truly cost us to put that word aside? If changing a term helps someone feel safe enough to stay in the conversation, that’s not "capitulating to the culture"—that’s Hospitality. It’s moving the boxes out of the hallway so your guest doesn't trip.

Humorously, we often treat our favorite vocabulary like it’s the Third Person of the Trinity. We defend our right to use outdated or insensitive terms with a passion that we rarely show for the Great Commission. But if we refuse to change a word that costs us nothing but our pride, we aren’t "standing for truth"; we’re just being a difficult host. We’re making the "porch" so cluttered with our own preferences that people never even make it to the "living room" to hear about Jesus.

Category 2: Gospel Offense

Now, we have to be honest: there is a limit to how much we can "translate." There is such a thing as **Gospel Offense.**This is the offense that occurs not because you were rude, but because the message of Jesus is inherently challenging.

The Gospel tells us things that our modern world—and our own hearts—don't always want to hear. It tells us that we aren't the centers of the universe. It tells us that sin is a reality that separates us from God. It tells us that Jesus is the exclusive way to life. It tells us that God’s design for human flourishing might look different than the world’s current trends.

When you stand on these truths, you will eventually cause offense. But notice the difference: this offense is centered on the Person of Jesus, not on your personality. If someone is offended because you believe in the sanctity of life or the necessity of repentance, that’s an offense you can’t avoid if you’re going to be faithful. But if they’re offended because you’re being condescending, dismissive, or mockingly "anti-woke," that’s on you.

We should strive to remove every unnecessary barrier—every bit of linguistic baggage, every cultural "inside joke," every bit of condescension—but we never, ever remove the Cross. The Cross is offensive enough on its own because it demands our surrender; it doesn’t need us to make it more offensive by being jerks about it.

The "Cost" Test

So, how do you know which is which? I like to use a simple "Cost Test." When you’re faced with a language shift, ask yourself: “Does changing this word require me to lie about the character of God or the reality of the Gospel?” If you’re at a community meeting in Homer and someone asks you to use a specific term that honors their identity or feelings, and using that term doesn't force you to deny that Jesus is Lord or that the Bible is true, then the cost is low and the gain is high. It’s a bargain! You’re buying a bridge for the price of a syllable.

But, if changing your language requires you to fundamentally redefine what God has called good, or to affirm something as "truth" that you believe contradicts Scripture, then you’ve hit the limit. You stand firm. But—and this is the part we often miss—you stand firm with a broken heart for the person, not a clenched fist at the culture. You say, "I want to honor you, and I want to be as kind as possible, but I cannot say that because of my commitment to what I believe God has said."

Not Every Discomfort is Persecution

We also need a "Pastoral Clarifier" here: Not every uncomfortable moment is a sign of the end times. Sometimes, we get pushback for our words and we immediately think, "Blessed are the persecuted!" But we need to check if we’re being persecuted for our faith or for our fussiness. If people find you difficult to talk to, it might not be because they hate the Gospel; it might be because you’ve made yourself a "language policeman." If you’re constantly correcting others or refusing to adapt to simple, respectful shifts in vocabulary, you aren't being a martyr; you’re just being a difficult neighbor. True Gospel offense happens when you are being too much like Jesus—too welcoming to the "wrong" people, too honest about your own sins, and too clear about the radical love of God.

Transition: The Jesus Model

So how do we walk this line? How do we become people who are "gentle as doves" but "shrewd as serpents" when it comes to the language of 2026?

We have to look at the Master Translator Himself. Jesus was the ultimate bridge-builder. He didn't see "Grace" and "Truth" as a tug-of-war. He saw them as the two hands of God reaching out to a broken world. In the next section, we’re going to look at how Jesus navigated His own "language wars" and how He managed to be both the most offensive and the most attractive person to ever walk the earth.

SECTION 3: Jesus — Full of Grace and Truth

If we want to know how to bridge the gap between "standing for truth" and "loving our neighbor," we have to look at the only Person who ever held the tension perfectly. We often treat Grace and Truth like they’re on a sliding scale—as if you have to dial down the truth to get more grace, or dial down the grace to really "tell it like it is." But John 1:14 doesn’t say Jesus was a 50/50 split. It says He was full of grace and full of truth. He was 100% of both, all the time.

This is the "Incarnational" model for our speech. Jesus didn’t have a rigid, one-size-fits-all script. He didn’t use a "religious vocabulary" to keep people at a distance. Instead, He translated the holiness of God into the language of the people He was with. He was never intimidated by the culture, but He was never indifferent to the person.

The Gracious Translation: The Woman at the Well

Think about Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman in John 4. This was a cultural and linguistic minefield. You had racial tension, religious rivalry, and a massive moral "elephant in the room." If Jesus had walked in with a "Truth-Only" megaphone, He would have started by shouting, "You’re an adulteress and your theology is wrong!" He would have been technically correct, but the conversation would have ended before it even started.

Instead, look at His grace. He starts with a simple request: "Will you give me a drink?" He breaks the social "language rules" of the day—a Jewish man speaking to a Samaritan woman—to build a bridge. He leads with curiosity. He uses metaphors she understands—water and thirst. But notice: He doesn’t skip the truth. When the conversation gets to her five husbands, He doesn’t offer a platitude. He speaks the truth clearly. But because He had built a bridge of grace first, the truth didn't feel like a condemnation; it felt like being seen.

When we navigate changing language today, are we trying to make people feel "put in their place," or are we trying to make them feel seen by a God who knows them and loves them anyway?

The Sharp Truth: The Religious Elite

Then, contrast that with Matthew 23. This is "Table-Flipping Jesus." When He’s talking to the religious leaders—the people who used "correct" religious language to exclude others while hiding their own pride—Jesus doesn’t use soft metaphors. He calls them "whitewashed tombs."

Wait, did Jesus just use "offensive" language? Yes. But look at who He was offending. Jesus was consistently gentle with the broken and firm with the proud. Most of us get this backward. We are incredibly harsh and "bold" with the broken, confused world around us, but we are incredibly soft on our own religious pride.

If our "standing for truth" always results in us punching down at people who are already hurting or marginalized, we aren't being like Jesus. We’re being like the Pharisees. Jesus’ words were always surgical—they were designed to cut out the cancer of pride so the heart could heal.

Curiosity Over Defensiveness

One of the most Christlike things we can do in a reactive age is to lead with curiosity. When someone tells us, "Hey, that term you used is hurtful to me," our natural, fleshly reaction is to get defensive. We want to say, "People are so sensitive these days! I shouldn't have to change how I talk!"

But what if we responded with the curiosity of Jesus? What if we said, "I didn't realize that word landed that way. Can you help me understand why that's hurtful?"

Christians should be the least easily offended people in the room. Why? Because our identity is anchored in something far more secure than our vocabulary or our social standing. We are anchored in Christ. If someone corrects my language, it doesn't change the fact that I’m a child of God. I can afford to be humble. I can afford to listen. I can afford to let go of my "right" to be correct if it means I can keep the door open for a relationship.

Neither Cruel Nor Cowardly

The Jesus model rejects two common extremes we see in the church today: Cruelty and Cowardice.

Cruelty says, "I have the truth, and I don't care who I hurt with it." This is the person who uses "biblical truth" as an excuse to be a jerk. They think that because they are right, they don't have to be kind. But if you have truth without grace, you don't actually have the heart of Jesus. You just have a cold, dead ideology.

Cowardice says, "I want to be liked so much that I’ll never say anything that might be uncomfortable." This is the person who adopts every cultural shift—even those that contradict the heart of the Gospel—because they are terrified of being called "intolerant." But if you have grace without truth, you aren't actually loving people. You’re just enabling them. True love cares enough to tell the truth, even when it’s hard.

Jesus was never cruel, and He was never cowardly. He stood before Pilate—the ultimate authority of the day—and didn’t back down on who He was. But He also stayed on the Cross and prayed for the people who were mocking Him. That is the "software" we need to download.

Applying the Pattern

So, what does this look like practically? It means when you’re in a conversation at the hardware store or a school board meeting, you’re constantly checking your "Grace and Truth" levels.

If you find yourself getting heated and wanting to "win" the argument, stop and ask: Am I being cruel right now? If you find yourself nodding along to something you know isn't true just to avoid an awkward moment, stop and ask: Am I being cowardly right now?

Jesus adjusted His tone based on the person, not based on fear. He spoke to the soul, not just the ears. He was full of grace and truth because He loved the person in front of Him more than He loved His own comfort.

As we move into the next section, we’re going to look at a practical framework—a step-by-step guide—to help you take this "Jesus Model" into your everyday life. How do we stay "full of grace and truth" when we're in the heat of a real-world conversation?

SECTION 4: A Practical Framework for Conversations

Now that we’ve looked at the heart of the matter and the perfect model of Jesus, it’s time to get our hands dirty with some "boots on the ground" practicality. It is one thing to nod along to the idea of "grace and truth" while listening to a podcast in your car; it is quite another to actually live it out when you’re standing in line at the Safeway or chatting with a neighbor in Homer. In a small town, the stakes are higher because you’re going to see that person again at the post office or the high school basketball game. You can’t just "mic drop" and walk away; you have to live with the wake you leave behind.

So, how do we navigate these moments with a heart for hospitality and a mind for fidelity? We need a framework—a four-step mental checklist to run through before you let those vocal cords vibrate.

Step 1: The Holy Pause

The most powerful tool in your conversational toolkit isn't a clever comeback; it’s the pause. James 1:19 gives us the gold standard: “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” In a reactive age, the "Holy Pause" is an act of spiritual rebellion. The world, and especially social media, is designed to make you react instantly while your adrenaline is spiking.

But a disciple of Jesus is someone who has been given the gift of self-control. When someone uses a term that confuses you, or when they correct you for a word you used, your first job isn't to defend your honor—it’s to breathe. That three-second delay gives the Holy Spirit enough time to move you from your "reptilian brain" (fight or flight) to your "redeemed brain" (grace and truth). In that pause, you can ask a quick internal prayer: “Lord, help me see the person, not just the vocabulary.”

Step 2: The Power of Clarification

Once you’ve paused, your first move should be toward understanding, not correction. We often jump to conclusions about people’s motives based on the labels they use. We assume that if someone uses a specific "progressive" term, they must be trying to dismantle the Church. Or if someone sticks to an "old" term, they must be a hateful bigot.

Instead of assuming, try clarifying. Use the phrase: “Help me understand.”

“I noticed you used that term—help me understand what that means to you.” Or, “I heard that my use of that word was frustrating to you—help me understand why that landed the way it did.”

This is the "Curiosity First" principle. When you ask someone to explain themselves, you lower the temperature of the room. It’s hard to stay at a "10" on the anger scale when someone is genuinely asking for your perspective. You might find out that the person isn't trying to start a political debate; they might just have a personal story of pain or a desire for respect associated with that word.

Step 3: The Discernment Filter

Now that you’ve listened, you have to decide how to proceed. This is where we apply the "Translation" lens. You ask yourself two diagnostic questions:

1. Does changing my language cost me nothing but my pride? If a neighbor or coworker says, “Hey, I’d prefer you use this term,” and using that term doesn't require you to lie about God or deny the Gospel, then change it. This is an exercise in love. It’s the "meat sacrificed to idols" principle. If your preference for an old word is more important than your relationship with a human being made in the image of God, you’ve made an idol out of your own comfort.

2. Does changing my language cost me the truth? If the language shift requires you to explicitly affirm something that contradicts God’s Word—if you are being asked to redefine the very nature of humanity or the Gospel—then you must stand firm. But remember: standing firm doesn't mean being a jerk. You can say, “I want to be as respectful as possible, and I value our relationship, but because of my convictions about what God says in the Bible, I’m not able to use that specific term in that way. I hope you can respect where I'm coming from.”

Most of the time, people can respect a "gentle no" far more than a "hostile no."

Step 4: The Tone Check

Finally, before you speak, check your tone. Truth delivered with contempt is not Christlike. You can say the most theologically sound thing in the world, but if your tone says, "I think you’re an idiot," then you aren't speaking the truth in love; you’re just speaking the truth in ego.

Humorously, we often think we’re being "bold" for the Gospel when we’re really just being cranky. If people walk away from you feeling belittled, they aren't rejecting Jesus—they’re rejecting your attitude.

The Small Town Reality

In a place like Homer, these interactions are the "small ripples" we talk about. When you choose to be the person who doesn't get triggered—the person who remains calm, kind, and genuinely curious when everyone else is shouting—people notice. That emotional steadiness is a lighthouse.

It tells the world, “I’m not afraid of your changing rules, because my identity is secure in a King whose love never changes. And because I’m secure in Him, I can be the most gracious person you’ve met today.”

Our goal is not to "win" a linguistic skirmish. It’s to be a bridge. It’s to ensure that when we finally get to talk about the things that matter most—life, death, sin, and the Savior—the person is still standing there listening because we didn't chase them away over a dictionary definition.

As we head into the final section, we’re going to talk about why this matters on a much larger scale. It’s not just about being polite; it’s about the very witness of the Church in a world that is desperate for something real.

SECTION 5: The Witness of a Translating Church

As we close this conversation, we have to address the "why" behind our words. For some of us, changing language feels like a compromise—a slow fade away from the truth. For others, changing language feels like an ethical mandate—a way to finally include people who have been pushed to the margins by the way we speak. If you feel caught in the middle, you’re actually in a very biblical place. You’re in the place of a translator.

The Gospel has always been a message in translation. From the moment the Holy Spirit descended at Pentecost and everyone heard the wonders of God in their own native tongue, the Church has been tasked with a mission: making the message of Jesus understandable to the people standing right in front of us.

Language as a Bridge, Not a Wall

The big picture here isn’t about winning a culture war; it’s about the Imago Dei—the belief that every person you speak to is made in the image of God and deserves to be treated with profound dignity.

Progressive voices rightly point out that language can be a wall. If our "traditional" ways of speaking—whether it’s gender-exclusive terms or archaic religious jargon—make someone feel like God isn't "for" them, then we have a hospitality problem. On the other hand, conservative voices rightly point out that if we change our language so much that we lose the "stumbling block" of the Cross, then we have a fidelity problem.

But what if these two things aren't enemies? What if the most "Christlike" way to speak is to be a person who is obsessed with clarity for the sake of love? In Colossians 4:6, Paul says, “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.” Notice he says "each person." Not a script. Not a manifesto. A person.

The Incarnational Shift

Think about Jesus. The theologians call it the "Incarnation"—the moment the infinite God "translated" Himself into human flesh, bone, and Hebrew dialect so we could understand Him. He didn't stand on a cloud and shout down "Traditional Heavenly Vocabulary" at us. He came down and used our metaphors. He talked about seeds, and sheep, and coins, and bread. He met us where we were.

When we are willing to update our language—to use terms that are inclusive, respectful, and clear—we are actually following the "Incarnational" model of Jesus. We are saying, "I care more about you hearing the heart of God than I care about my comfort with the words I grew up with." At the same time, we keep our feet on the rock. We don't change the destination of the Gospel (the holiness of God and the need for a Savior), but we are incredibly flexible with the road we take to get people there.

Moving from Reaction to Redemption

The world is exhausted by the "Reactive Age." People are tired of being barked at by people who use language as a weapon—whether that’s the weapon of "cancel culture" or the weapon of "religious tradition."

What if the Church became a "Third Way" space? A place where we are:

• Bold enough to speak the hard truths about sin and grace.
• Humble enough to admit when our old ways of speaking have caused unnecessary pain.
• Gracious enough to let people learn and grow without biting their heads off when they trip over a syllable.

In a world of "call-out culture," let’s be a "call-in" people. If someone uses a word that bothers you, call them in to a conversation rather than calling them out for an execution. If you’re the one who needs to change your vocabulary, don't do it out of a begrudging "political correctness." Do it out of a radical, Christ-fueled "Neighbor Correctness."

The Question at Stake

Ask yourself this week: “Is my goal to be understood, or is it to be 'right'?” If your goal is to be right, you’ll stay in your bunker and keep your vocabulary exactly where it is. But if your goal is to be understood—if your goal is for your neighbor to catch a glimpse of the beauty of Jesus—then you’ll be willing to do the hard work of translation. You’ll be willing to listen. You’ll be willing to learn.

Our words are the "small ripples" that carry the message of the Great King. Let’s make sure those ripples are moving people toward the shore of God's love, not pushing them further out to sea. We don't speak to win. We speak because we have been spoken to by a God of infinite grace and absolute truth.

OUTRO: Formation Over Fear

(Music: Soft, reflective acoustic piano or guitar begins to swell.)

Host: As we wrap up today’s episode, I want to leave you with one final thought. The goal of everything we’ve talked about today isn't to give you a "left-wing" or a "right-wing" vocabulary list. The goal is to give you a Christ-shaped heart. Our words should be shaped more by the character of Jesus than by the pressure of our social circles. Whether you’re someone who feels the weight of tradition or someone who feels the urgency of progress, remember: the person in front of you is a soul for whom Christ died. You don’t need to posture, and you don’t need to panic. You need to love.

The goal isn't "perfect" vocabulary—there's no such thing in a fallen world. The goal is a humble, translating heart that is willing to do whatever it takes to make the grace of Jesus visible.

So this week, be a bridge-builder. Listen more than you speak. And when you do speak, let it be full of the kind of grace that welcomes and the kind of truth that heals.

Thanks for listening. Remember: small ripples make a big impact, go make yours.