Language Shapes Our Discipleship
The “swear” words at our church and why we don’t use them.
Language is powerful. Every community, tribe, culture, and movement develops its own internal language. Over time, this language becomes deeply embedded and even begins to shape the very culture and identity of the people who use it.
The words we use, and the reasons we use them, carry significance far beyond their surface meaning. They frame our assumptions and influence our ability to raise and send disciples.
Christians, of course, have coined a term for this internal dialect: Christianese. While sometimes mocked, it’s unavoidable—and even necessary. As a set-apart people, it’s inevitable that we’ll develop a way of communicating that reflects our distinct values. From the earliest days of the church, believers co-opted, redefined, and sometimes avoided specific words.
Paul’s use of “slave” in Romans 6, Peter’s use of “priest” in 1 Peter 2, and Jesus’ use of “church” (ekklesia) in Matthew 16 are examples of culturally common words repurposed with new, Kingdom-centred meaning.
(This doesn’t mean we should be culturally insensitive or use language that alienates—but it does mean we will inevitably develop a distinct vocabulary.)
Recently, my dear friend Anny Dela Vega, who leads our downtown Toronto church alongside her husband MJ, preached at a summer retreat and highlighted a few specific words we intentionally avoid using as a community. We avoid them because of the value assumptions they carry. Our word choices are not random; they express convictions and form the framework for how we live and lead. I thought it would be helpful to share a few:
Staff → Priesthood of All Believers
We avoid referring to anyone at our church as “staff.” We don’t have staff meetings or staff roles. While we do have people who are paid by the church—some full-time, some part-time—they are not treated as a distinct class of people. In fact, it’s nearly impossible to tell who is paid.
The “staff” label subtly, but powerfully, creates a category of people who are more responsible, more called, or more qualified than others. This distinction invites regular believers to offload the responsibility of disciple-making to “the professionals.”
By avoiding this framing, we create space to deploy people for traditionally paid roles (like a campus missionary) from a theological foundation that emphasizes the mobilization of everyone.
Most of those who are paid at our church have done their roles before without pay and would again if needed. Our primary relationship to one another is not professional; it’s familial. We are brothers and sisters before we are teammates.
Trust me, this is really really hard and counter-cultural. For example, it means that the way we navigate performance issues in roles is often more involved than an HR or management matter.
Because everyone is labouring for the Kingdom outside of their work (not as their work), we collectively experience freedom from the idol of career, regardless of whether someone works inside or outside the church. Interestingly, those who wrestle most with this are often those who came in dreaming of a “full-time ministry” career.
(Fun aside: our friends at Acts 2 Network take the opposite but equally intentional approach. They call everyone on their bi-vocational teams “staff.” What we call “missionaries,” they call “staff.” It’s a running joke that when we hang out, we need a little dictionary to translate.)
Volunteer → Servant Identity
We avoid the word “volunteer” and instead speak of “serving.”
“Volunteer” carries cultural connotations that don’t align with our view of church as family. It suggests unpaid labour for an institution, often transactional in nature. We “volunteer” for organizations, but we serve people.
Volunteering can also be self-serving: it helps build résumés, expand networks, or earn opportunities. These motivations aren’t evil, but they’re not the posture of a servant.
We’re called to become servants, not simply act like volunteers. Volunteering is something we do. Servanthood is who we are. In fact, the New Testament even uses the word “slave”, offensive as it may be, to describe our posture toward Christ and one another.
The bar is higher than simply doing good deeds. We’re invited to lay our lives down and become servants..
Pastor → Brother and Sister
We do not refer to any of our leaders, including myself, as “Pastor ____.”
For starters, the word “pastor” is one of the most confusing and inconsistently defined words in church life. Technically, my role is more as a bishop, apostle or elder, but those all sound pretentious.
The bigger issue is that we tend to use “pastor” as an honorific. For example: “Pastor Robin.” But in Matthew 23, Jesus explicitly instructs his disciples not to use titles like “Rabbi,” “Teacher,” or “Father.” Why? Because we are all brothers and sisters.
Honorifics reinforce the clergy-laity divide. They subtly communicate that the pastor is the one truly responsible for the life of the church. But in the Kingdom, we all bear that responsibility.
Many people use the term “pastor” as a way of showing honour, and Scripture does instruct us to honour our leaders. But if we accept that honorific uncritically, or worse, expect it, we’re headed down a dangerous road. As leaders, we must do everything in our power to stay low, stay equal, and serve humbly.
In our structure, pastoring primarily happens in house churches (simple church). So if we were to be consistent, we’d need to refer to every simple church leader as “Pastor ____.” That idea alone would overwhelm most people.
In Paul’s letters, he often introduces himself as a brother in Christ and uses terms like “apostle” descriptively, not as a title. That’s how I think of my own role. I serve in a leadership role, but my most important title in my church is brother. My equality with other believers is of greater importance than the greater responsibility that I carry as our church's leader.
In fact, this commitment to a flat church culture can sometimes be confusing or off-putting for people from backgrounds where honouring leaders is a big deal. I’ve learned it’s important to sit down and explain why we lead this way—to avoid unnecessary division or misunderstanding.
Conclusion: Words Form Disciples
The words we use reflect deeply held convictions. In some cases, our language can even reveal theological drift or a lack of clarity about what it means to be a church family.
Of course, we have our blind spots too. Sometimes we invent our own terms that create confusing jargon. Other times, we avoid familiar words that would aid communication. The tension between value alignment and clarity is real.
But by carefully assessing the words we use, and the values they carry, we can reinforce a culture where disciple-making is shared by everyone. That’s the kind of church we’re committed to building.