You heard it early in the pandemic, when wise people urged us to talk about “physical distancing” rather “social distancing.” Language matters. It shapes how we think, feel, and act. In the case of being apart from one another, contrasting physical to social isolation emphasized that we still could and should remain connected, even as we stayed at home to keep ourselves and one another safe.

We’re at a point in the Covid crisis when it’s again important to pay close attention to the words we use.

Instead of “re-opening,” say “re-gathering in person.” Many of you have already made this shift. While the church’s physical plant might have been closed, the Church never was. To claim such would be to deny the hard work of ministers and lay leaders and the presence of Christ in all times and places.

Instead of “getting back,” say “moving forward.” The former suggests we will spring back to pre-pandemic practices as if Covid was a nightmare we can shake off rather than a reality-altering event on a global scale. We will waste the pain of the past year if we don’t learn from it and make changes based on what we glean.

Instead of “normal,” say “a new way of being.” Normal conjures up nostalgia for a time that never will be - shouldn’t be - again. Normal has left out too many people. Normal has been too stuck in it ways. Normal has been too enamored of itself to ponder changes needed in order to remain faithful.

Instead of “how soon can we lose the precautions?” ask “how can we continue to show care through caution?” Understandably, people are ready to shed masks and hug their church friends. But the numbers show that we are not past the danger, and we’ll be right back in the thick of it if we aren’t careful. It is an act of discipleship to continue to protect one another.

Instead of “but I’m vaccinated” ask “who isn’t yet vaccinated?” While in some areas vaccine supply now surpasses demand, that is not the case everywhere. There are people with health concerns who aren’t yet willing or able to get their shots, and while we might be on the brink of teen vaccination, the timeline for younger children remains uncertain. It’s important to keep asking who remains at risk and plan around those folks.

How might you help your church people make these shifts in language so that they can make accompanying changes in expectations and focus? And what other language replacements would you recommend?

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash.

Lately I’ve seen several articles about church bullies making the rounds on Facebook. They tend to point out the characteristics of a bully and offer some helpful strategies for dealing with – or working around – antagonists. A quick internet search brings up pages of similar posts.

Bullying in the church is real. I have been both a witness to it and a target of it. If you have too, then you know it is soul-sucking. It is exhausting. It affects our ability to minister to healthy people. We sometimes end up taking our pain out on the people closest to us. We may even question not just our calling, but also our faith. Maybe those doing the bullying don’t know how deep their impact is. Maybe they do.

My coaching clients often want to talk about their “bully” or “antagonist.” That verbiage is a shorthand. If I’ve met with the client before, those keywords tap into previous conversations so that we can move more quickly toward designing actions. Those words also give me clues to the client’s state of mind, though I must be careful not to assume too much or project my own experiences. So the label “bully” can be helpful in some contexts.

But I believe the term’s usefulness is limited. If we almost exclusively refer to a person as our bully or antagonist, it becomes difficult to see them any other way. We begin to interpret everything that person says or does through that identity. The hints of humanity get sifted out. Saying that someone bullies rather than that someone is a bully reminds us that the sinner is not his/her sin. Language matters.

I’m convinced that there are pastoral care needs behind every act of bullying. We might have been so wounded by the one bullying that we are unable to provide that care. We might need to set strong boundaries with that person to limit the damage s/he can inflict on us or on others. But as followers of a God who loves even the hardest heart, we must continue to look for – or at least believe in – the image of that God within those who hurt us. Because if we do not, then God’s image within us becomes more deeply buried.

Bullying is real, evil, and potent. But our power lies in grace. Not a cheap grace that makes any and all behavior acceptable, but in a grace that moves us toward wholeness for all.