Sh*t.
When I step into a cold shower in the morning or summon the will to continue a workout, my language is less than pristine.
I’ve heard all the arguments against swearing. It’s vulgar. It’s abrasive. It’s unladylike. But let’s face it: swearing is fun.
We’re all adults here, and our parents are no longer lurking around the corner with a bar of soap. Profanity can easily be abused, but it can also be used judiciously, even by Christians.
I’m not advocating a liberal use of vulgar language: that’s anything but refined, and limits the power of your speech. Sprinkling your words too heavily with profanity is like putting too much hot sauce on your food: you look stupid, and it ultimately masks the substance of your point.
But hot sauce is great. A little goes a long way.
To Christians, words carry the power of life and death. There are a plethora of ways to squander the gift: taking the Lord’s name in vain, cursing someone out, and using slurs or derogatory language.
There are also places where swearing is entirely inappropriate. Kids imitate everything. Your boss or grandma may not be impressed by your foul mouth.
But there’s a way to swear appropriately and sparingly — a way even Jesus, who hung out with a bunch of fishermen, might not mind.
Swearing is cathartic. It helps us do hard things, and hard things build virtue. According to a 2020 study by the Keele University School of Psychology, swearing can alleviate pain.
When participants plunged a hand in icy water, those required to use neutral words or fake swear words made up by the researchers (fouch, twizpipe) had measurably poorer pain tolerance. The participants allowed to swear took longer to feel pain and kept their hands in the water longer.
Remember that the next time you jam your toe.
Swearing also adds emphasis. Our ears perk up when an otherwise innocuous speaker drops an f-bomb. Comedians learn this power early on: the funniest ones use little profanity, impeccably timed. See almost any sketch from John Mulaney.
We also need strong language for atrocities. Full-term abortion? That’s not “bad,” that’s f-ed up.
Many good speakers and writers learn to harness this power: Dante, Shakespeare, Twain, Hemingway, and Harper Lee, to name a few. In his novel “East of Eden,” John Steinbeck incorporates curse words naturally without overdoing it.
Swearing can help us connect with certain relatives or acquaintances, or empathize with a friend experiencing a painful life event.
Swearing can form a lively part of particular experiences: Watching your favorite NHL team in person or tearing down a ski slope on a good powder day come to mind. It’s all the better when we don’t use it as a crutch or a curse, but as an expression of surprise or enjoyment.
If we’re going to make a fuss about language, I’d rather see us cut out the obscenely gross descriptors that abound in modern pop music before whining about the occasional “damn” in otherwise wholesome lyrics.
When we get hung up about swear words, we forget there are a million ways we can dehumanize, degrade, and condemn people without a single expletive. Pulling every curse word out of Cardi B’s “WAP” still wouldn’t redeem the message.
Swearing is habit-forming, but in that regard it’s no different from phone usage, fast food, caffeine intake, or alcohol consumption. For the vast majority of mature adults, it doesn’t need to be an all-or-nothing. We’re capable of self-awareness and balance.
I’m not dead yet, so I am still moderating all my habits, language included.
But until I stop colliding with furniture, nearly getting T-boned in Chicago, or taking cold showers, I’ll still be swearing from time to time. I think Jesus understands.
