When Culture Speaks Louder Than Reverence”
- Angela U Burns
- Jul 14
- 6 min read
It was a typical Sunday after service in the heart of the Caribbean. The sun blazed overhead, and laughter filled the courtyard as people mingled in their colourful attire.
I stood beside an elderly woman from the church who, in mid-conversation about the price of mangoes at the market, suddenly exclaimed, “Jesus Christ!”
Her voice rang out—not in prayer, but in exasperation. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t swearing by the world’s standards. It was just how people talked. I’d heard it all my life. Still, something stirred uncomfortably in me.
Later that day, her words echoed in my spirit. Why did it feel off this time? I’d said it too in moments of shock or laughter. But that still small voice was pressing a question on my heart: “Do you speak My name as though I’m present, or as though I am common?”
I sat with my Bible open to Exodus 20:7, where it reads: “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain…”
The verse felt heavier than usual. Not because I was being judged, but because I was being invited—invited to examine what it means to live in a culture where reverence sometimes takes a back seat to routine.
In Jamaican culture—and many others for that matter—saying “Jesus Christ” or “Oh my God” is a norm. It’s used to express shock, to tell stories with passion, or to drive home a point.
But somewhere along the line, I realized we’d blurred the line between expression and reverence. We’d made the sacred sound casual.
I thought about Matthew 12:36, where Jesus warns:
“I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak.”
That verse struck deep. Not to condemn me, but to remind me: My words matter. Not just the intentional ones, but the casual ones too. The ones I inherited from my culture. The ones I never thought to question.
Still, I didn’t want to throw away my heritage. I love the boldness, the rhythm, the expressive power of Caribbean language. God made me who I am, including the roots I come from.
But He was teaching me something important that day: Culture must kneel before the cross.
So the Holy Spirit began showing me that being culturally expressive wasn’t the problem—unfiltered expressions that dishonour God? That was the problem. I didn’t need to erase who I was; I just needed to elevate who He is.
That week, I made a small change. Instead of saying “Jesus Christ!” when shocked, I whispered “Lord, help me.” Instead of saying “Oh my God!” I said, “My goodness!” or “Wow!”
It felt small, but it was a choice to lift God's name higher in my daily life.
I also became more aware of how others around me might perceive those phrases. In a mixed group of believers, someone might think I’m swearing—or worse, mocking God—when that was never my intent. And I didn’t want to be a stumbling block.
The words of the Apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 8:9 came alive for me: “Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak.”
It reminded me that following Christ sometimes means choosing reverence over routine—not because God is uptight, but because He’s worthy.
So, what do I want us to leave here with today?
Our culture is a gift. But even good things must be surrendered to God. What is normal in our world may not be holy in His.
As Christians, whether Montserratians, Americans, Guyanese, Canadians, St. Lucians, Jamaicans, Vincentians, Antiguans, Bajans, Australians, Bahamians, Virgin Islanders, Grenadians, Dominicans, Antiguans, as Christians, let every word—especially the ones that bear His name—be spoken as though He’s standing right beside you, right next to me. Because guess what? He is.
——————————————
Exodus 3:5 (NLT) – “Do not come any closer,” the Lord warned. “Take off your sandals, for you are standing on holy ground.”
Numbers 20:10–12 (KJV) – “And Moses and Aaron gathered the congregation together before the rock, and he said unto them, Hear now, ye rebels; must we fetch you water out of this rock? And Moses lifted up his hand, and with his rod he smote the rock twice: and the water came out abundantly…And the Lord spake unto Moses and Aaron, Because ye believed me not, to sanctify me in the eyes of the children of Israel, therefore ye shall not bring this congregation into the land…”
✨We often underestimate the power of words—especially in a cultural context.
In some parts of the Caribbean, exclamations like “Oh my God,” “Jeezas Chrise,” or “Lawd Gad” are not always used in direct reference to God. They’re expressions of shock, pain, frustration, or even surprise.
To many, it's just how we talk. But the real question is—does God still take it seriously?
Let’s start with Moses. A man who had a close relationship with God. A man who had seen the burning bush, stood on holy ground, received the Ten Commandments, and watched God split the sea.
Yet in Numbers 20, we see a different side of him.
Moses had grown tired. Worn out by the people’s complaints. And when the people pushed him to the edge, he snapped—not just in action but in speech.
The Bible says Moses shouted, “Hear now, ye rebels!” before striking the rock—not once but twice.
God had told Moses to speak to the rock. Instead, he acted out of emotion and frustration. And while the water still came forth, the consequence was great: he was barred from entering the Promised Land.
Let that sink in—after all the miracles, all the leadership, all the obedience, this one moment of public irreverence cost Moses his earthly reward.
Why?
Because Moses misrepresented God in front of the people. His tone and his actions failed to uphold the holiness of God before a watching community.
The Lord said, “Because you did not sanctify Me in the eyes of the people…”
Now let’s ask ourselves—do we do the same when we use God’s name casually in speech?
When we say, “Jeezas Chrise” during a moment of frustration, Jeeessusss, or “Oh my God” at every surprising event—are we sanctifying God? Or are we normalizing holy language in unholy moments?
For some, this sounds like nitpicking. “Come on,” they say, “That’s just culture.”
But what if culture is speaking louder than our reverence? What if we’ve allowed tradition to dull our spiritual sensitivity?
The Bible is clear in Exodus 20:7 (NLT) – “You must not misuse the name of the Lord your God. The Lord will not let you go unpunished if you misuse his name.”
This commandment is not about tone policing—it’s about honour. Reverence isn’t a suggestion. It’s a posture of the heart that must show up in the way we talk.
Let’s bring this closer to home.
Imagine a child constantly calling their parent’s name in jest, shouting it in arguments, or using it as an exclamation. Sooner or later, the name stops carrying weight. Respect is replaced by routine.
And sadly, many of us have done this with God’s name. The sacred has become slang.
Family, we must return to a place where God’s name means something. Where we pause before we speak it. Where we examine what slips out in our frustration and ask—Is this how I want to represent God to those around me?
If Moses—a man who spoke face-to-face with God—could face such consequences for not honouring God’s holiness in speech and action, then surely, we too must tread carefully.
This isn’t about legalism. It’s about love. Reverence grows where love and fear of the Lord meet.
So today, let us ask ourselves:
Am I speaking in a way that honours God?
Have I allowed culture to silence conviction?
And what would it look like for me to speak with reverence—even in my everyday expressions?
As we ponder the answers to those questions, I want to encourage us, myself included, to be a people who, like Isaiah, cry out in Isaiah 6:5 (ESV) –
“Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips… for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
May our lips reflect our love for our Creator, today and always.
aub - 14Jul25
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