Pragmatic or Profane?
Let’s talk about it: should Christians use preferred pronouns?
Some things are always wrong. In the first-century world of the New Testament, Christians faced sharp cultural tensions that had no easy precedent in the Law of Moses. Idol worship is one of them; saying “Caesar is Lord” or joining in sacrifices to false gods was betrayal of the true God. The greatest commandment and the consistent testimony of the prophets stood immovably against it. That line was clear.
But other things lived in the gray. Eating meat that had been offered to idols was not sinful in itself. On the one hand, Paul insists that “idols are nothing” and that meat itself is morally neutral. On the other hand, he warns believers not to eat in a way that would scandalize weaker brothers or confuse outsiders (1 Corinthians 10). Here Paul’s language rises to a principle: freedom must always be steered by love. “All things are lawful for me, but not all things are helpful; all things are lawful for me, but not all things edify.” (v. 23). This is concession without compromise.
Some actions are never negotiable because they defy our love for God, like idol worship. Others require discernment for love of others, like idol meat. And discernment takes wisdom.
Jesus’ Accommodation
Jesus was not afraid of cultural furniture. He often borrowed it, sat in it, rearranged it—but He never let it define the room. He knew when to resist and when to repurpose.
In Luke 16 He told the story of the rich man and Lazarus. The imagery—Abraham’s bosom, a deep gulf, a conversation in Hades—comes straight from Second-Temple Era Pharisaical afterlife cosmology (beliefs about the afterlife common among Jews from ~500 BC–70 AD). Notice that Jesus never repeats this scene anywhere else. His apostle Paul, a devout Pharisee by background, writes plenty about the afterlife, yet never reprises these details. Because Jesus wasn’t canonizing the blueprint! He was borrowing familiar categories to press a deeper point: the coming acceptance of the Gentiles.
Across His ministry his real eschatological emphasis was consistent: closeness or exclusion from God (Luke 23:43; Matt 8:11–12), bodily resurrection and final judgment (Matt 25:31–46), and the urgent call to heed Scripture (Luke 16:29–31). Likewise, He leans on other common idioms—mustard seeds, mountains moving, the “eye” as a lamp—not to certify botany, geology, or ophthalmology, but to press deeper issues. He also showed this in action: in Matthew 17, He told Peter to pay the temple tax, even though as God’s Son He was exempt. He paid anyway “lest we offend them,” (v. 27).
The pattern is pedagogical: a teaching tool. Jesus accommodates recognizable, even imperfect, models to reach stationary hearts, while the doctrinal core remains durable. These elements of Jesus’ ministry weren’t compromise. They were concession.
Paul’s Flexibility
Paul followed Christ. He famously declared: “I have become all things to all men, that I might by all means save some,” (1 Corinthians 9:22). For the Jews, he lived as one under the law; for Gentiles, as one outside it. His identity in Christ was secure, so his cultural posture could flex.
See the ways he demonstrated this practically:
- Timothy’s circumcision (Acts 16:1–3): not needed for salvation, but vital for Jewish access.
- Purification rites (Acts 21:17–26): not required by the gospel, but useful for peace among Jewish Christians.
- Meat offered to idols (1 Cor. 8–10): not sinful in itself, but dangerous if it harmed others.
Paul initiated another striking example with the church in Acts 15. At the Jerusalem Council the apostles clearly affirmed the truth: salvation is by grace alone, and Gentiles are not bound to the yoke of the Mosaic law. Still, in the same breath they urged Gentile believers to abstain from certain foods and practices closely tied to Jewish sensitivities—what appears a contradiction to that truth; “… it seemed good… to lay upon you no greater burden than these…” (v. 28). Love required sensitivity for fellowship and witness to the unbelieving Jewish population around them.
Paul’s pattern is consistent: never bend God’s commands but bend to customs if it produces love to others, like preserving unity or paving the way for the gospel.
Speech Acts
Not every word is a cosmic claim. Some suggest that words are always truth-claims. Using “she” for a male is lying, like bowing to an idol. But language doesn’t work that way.
Speech-Act Theory asserts that language does more than state facts: it can ask, command, invite, comfort, or signal relationship. Not every phrase is a declaration of cosmic truth.
To claim that it does, one must throw away half our language:
- “Can you pass the salt?” though we mean “please do so.”
- “How are you?” though we don’t expect a full medical report.
- “I’m starving,” though we just mean just “hungry.”
- “Time flies,” though no wings sprout.
- “The four corners of the earth,” though the planet is round.
- Dr. Dre isn’t a doctor; not every “Your Honor” is honorable; some referred to as “Dear…” are not dear.
These aren’t lies. They are cultural conventions whose meaning depends on context. Different people may interpret the same phrase differently—one may see it as courtesy, another as a factual claim—but the point is that language often functions beyond bare ontology.
And Jesus Himself modeled this flexibility. He spoke in Pharisee categories in Luke 16, not to affirm their cosmology but to grab their attention. His words were relational bridges, not than literal declarations.
Objection: “Shared Meaning” Isn’t Shared
One might object that idioms only work when both parties share the same meaning. “I’ll say ‘the sun rises’ with people who know it’s a figure of speech. But with a flat-earther, I wouldn’t dare, lest I feed their delusion!”
But Scripture already gives us a way to respond. Communication works on three levels: what the speaker intends, how the hearer takes it, and the setting it happens in. Paul exercises freedom differently in a pagan temple dining room, a private home, and a mixed church gathering (1 Corinthians 8–10). The same meat, different settings, different effects.
- Intent matters (speaker meaning). Christians may use a contested form with a declared intent of courtesy and access, not ontology—analogous to Paul’s “becoming as” without becoming (1 Corinthians 9:19–23). When prudent, pair accommodation with plain teaching elsewhere to prevent confusion (Acts 21:26 alongside Galatians).
- Context matters (setting norms). Some contexts convert courtesy into confession. In legally binding documents, doctrinal statements, or teaching roles charged with truth claims, accommodation may imply endorsement. There, abstain or clarify. In neighborly conversation or pastoral triage, accommodation can function as hospitality without implying metaphysics.
- Uptake matters (hearer interpretation). If a hearer explicitly treats your usage as endorsement, you owe a gentle clarification—just as Paul would abstain if an observer said, “This was offered to an idol” (1 Corinthians 10:28). Where possible, add a brief meta-signal: “I want to respect you; I’m not making a philosophical claim here.”
Even without perfect shared meaning, Christians can still use language wisely. We can declare intent, read the setting, and clarify when needed. That way the true offense stays where it belongs—at the cross, not at dialect.
The Pronoun Question
So should Christians use preferred pronouns? Are they idol worship or idol meat?
- If they’re idol worship, then using alternate pronouns is denying creation and affirming a falsehood.
- If they’re idol meat, then they are cultural signals—loaded, but not categorically sinful. The moral weight lies in intent, context, and effect.
Within historic Christian teaching, Genesis 1–2 is read as a creational testimony of binary male and female, and the Bible regularly commands truth-telling. Yet, Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians 12–14 shows that truth is never an end in itself—it is always a servant of love. Without love, even the most accurate speech is a noisy gong. What good is drowning out Christ’s invitation with a noisy gong? So the real caution is not about truth for its own sake, but about whether our truth-telling is being harnessed to the greater command: to love God and neighbor. To some, pronoun use feels like endorsing a false identity, but the deeper biblical challenge is whether our words, whatever they are, actually build up in love.
Paul’s strategy was accommodation. Words are cultural carriers. Using them can be more about showing respect and opening a door than making an ontological statement. Like Timothy’s circumcision or Jesus’ parables, pronouns may function as courtesy without doctrinal compromise.
“Render to Caesar”
They thought they had Him cornered. The Pharisees and Herodians joined forces to trap Jesus with a simple yes-or-no about paying taxes (Mark 12:13–17; Matt 22:15–22; Luke 20:20–26). Say “no” and Rome calls Him a rebel. Say “yes” and the crowds brand Him a blasphemer. Either way, He loses.
The coin was toxic. Stamped with the image of Tiberius Caesar and the words “son of the divine Augustus,” it carried Rome’s theology in its metal. For devout Jews, this was idolatry in their pocket. For Rome, refusing to use it was treason. A clever trap, a no-win situation.
But Jesus did not play. He asked whose image was on the coin, and when they answered “Caesar’s,” He replied, “Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” Paying the tax was not worship. Using the coin was not loyalty to Caesar’s divinity. Civic participation was not spiritual surrender. Not every act that touches cultural symbols is an endorsement of their ideology.
The denarius bore blasphemy, yet Jesus treated it as ordinary currency. He gave Caesar his coin but kept His soul for God. The parallel to today is clear: modern pronouns, like that coin, carry symbolic weight far beyond grammar. For some, using them feels like bending the knee to falsehood. For others, refusing feels like cruelty. Once again, a trap appears: either betray truth or betray love.
But we as Christians do not have to be trapped. We can sometimes “render” the words of culture—its pronouns, its forms of address—without surrendering allegiance to falsehood. Like Jesus with the coin, we can participate pragmatically in order to remove needless offense, while still giving God what is His.
Concession without Compromise
There is no one-verse answer. The question is not answered by proof-text but by discernment. Wisdom is required. The question to ask is: in this moment, is a pronoun a truth-claim, or is it a courtesy?
In court, words are declarations; accuracy is absolute. In a neighbor’s kitchen, however, words are bridges. Care for the person should take precedence.
Christians must tread carefully, distinguishing between contexts. Sometimes refusal is to cause needless offense and make gender ideology the stumbling block instead of the cross.
The Greater Offense
The gospel itself is offensive. Those in this world that posture above others on the basis of arbitrary measures cringe at the indiscriminate inclusivity of Christ. Paul never tried to erase the scandal of the cross. But he worked hard to make sure the cross was the only offense.
That’s the measure here. Christians must speak truth, yes, but only as a vehicle of love. The greater call is to discern when words are functioning as truth-claims and when they are functioning as cultural code. The goal is not to win linguistic battles but to win people to the Lord.
We are called to use our words as concession, not compromise. When our words teach others that God knows them, calls them by name, and beckons them into life, then those words have become bridges, not barriers.
