Clean words and clean witness in the White House

In late elementary and early middle school, I spent a blissful week each summer attending music camp on the campus of Catholic University in Washington, D.C. Lessons, concerts, lectures and classes filled my days.

One of my new friends was Suzie, a girl of sophistication and worldliness. As we lingered between activities one sunny afternoon, Suzie shared her strategy around curse words. She used them sparingly so that when she dropped one people would really pay attention. Suzie encouraged us to do the same.

I’ve had over two decades to ponder her advice, and I’ve come to a different conclusion: not that we swear rarely, but that we abandon it entirely. Suzie’s logic was sound: scarcity does increase impact. But abstinence holds even greater power.

In the movie Chariots of Fire, Sandy McGrath encourages Eric Liddell to aim for the Olympic games. “What we need now,” he says, “is a muscular Christian to make folks sit up and notice.” It turns out that avoiding profanity also gets the attention of the world.

One prominent example comes from a recent New York Times recent profile of Russell Vought, the director of the United States Office of Management and Budget. The author draws a connection between Mr. Vought’s language and his faith:

In the White House, Mr. Vought is not seen as a part of Mr. Trump’s inner circle, according to four people with knowledge of the dynamics. He regularly quotes the Bible and never curses—a sharp contrast with a president who sometimes refers to Christians in the third person.

Mr. Vought’s speech is so countercultural that it merits mention in an article focused on public policy. President Trump, on the other hand, makes headlines with his public profanity. In The Meaning of Marriage, Pastor Timothy Keller quotes Sara Lipton’s reminder that, “For most of Western history, the primary and most valued characteristic of manhood was self-mastery.” While Lipton addresses sexual indiscretion, virtue also includes control over our tongues. If we judge by the standard of self-mastery, Mr. Vought may well be the manliest man in the White House.

The world also notes when our behavior falls short of our beliefs. Last year Ruth Graham, a religion correspondent for the New York Times, wrote an article titled, “Piety and Profanity: The Raunchy Christians Are Here.” In it she catalogues the increasing vulgarity of prominent Christian politicians and pastors.

Graham explains that, “for some conservative Christians, the stakes of the moment are now high enough that a certain amount of vulgarity is not just tolerated, but also required as a form of truth-telling worthy of the prophets.” But vulgarity as truth telling is a misguided attempt at authenticity, not an imitation of the biblical prophets.

Guarding our tongues is key part of our Christian witness in an increasingly vulgar world. Those around us notice how we talk, and our speech provides opportunities to bring glory to God. We use a distinctive vocabulary because we have a distinctive hope: We know that the pure in heart will see God (Matthew 5:8). We avoid what is crass not because we are prudes, but because we look forward to a “new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells” (2 Peter 3:13). And when others mention that we never use four-letter words, we can share that hope with them.