Words You Didn’t Mean

Read

Luke 11:2 “Father, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come.”

Think

Most of us have had a moment when we said something we didn’t fully understand. Maybe it was repeating a phrase you heard growing up, or trying to sound smart in a conversation and realizing later you used the word all wrong. It's harmless when it's a misused acronym or a confused piece of slang. But sometimes, it’s more than a vocabulary issue. Sometimes, words carry weight we don’t realize. And sometimes, we say sacred things like they’re ordinary, just because we never stopped to think about what they mean.

One of the most common ways people misuse God’s name is not out of rebellion but out of ignorance. It’s not defiant. It’s just thoughtless. It’s saying things like “Oh my God” or “Jesus Christ” as automatic reactions. It’s using phrases that invoke God’s name without ever actually thinking about God. In those moments, we’re not angry at him, mocking him, or trying to offend him—we’re just not thinking at all.

But here’s the tension: the third commandment doesn’t make exceptions for unintentional misuse. Exodus 20:7 doesn’t say, “You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God, unless you didn’t mean it.” God’s name is not protected only from hostile attacks. It’s meant to be honored above thoughtlessness, casualness, and emotional reflex.

Jesus models this clearly when he teaches his disciples how to pray. Before asking for daily bread, before requesting forgiveness, before anything else, he says: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.” The word “hallowed” isn’t one we use much anymore. It means “to make holy,” to set something apart as sacred, to treat it with weight and wonder. Jesus places reverence at the very front of prayer. Before you ask for anything, he’s saying, remember who you’re speaking to.

And if we’re honest, we forget.

We forget that God’s name is not just a label. It is a revelation of his character. In Scripture, names reveal essence. God’s names—Jehovah, Yahweh, El Shaddai, Adonai—aren’t ornamental. They’re theological. They tell us who he is: provider, protector, ruler, savior. To say God’s name is to speak about his glory, his mercy, his justice, and his nearness.

But when we use God’s name without thought, we flatten it. We reduce something divine to something decorative. It’s like graffiti on stained glass. We might not mean harm, but the effect is the same. We’ve taken something beautiful and sacred and turned it into a backdrop for our emotions.

Imagine walking through a historic cathedral. The air is hushed. The light filters through tall, arched windows. You feel the weight of history, of reverence, of presence. And then someone walks in loudly talking on their phone, using the space like it’s just another hallway. You’d probably feel the tension instantly. That’s the difference between sacred awareness and casual occupation.

Now imagine your own heart as that sacred space. What happens when God’s name echoes inside it? Do we pause and remember who he is? Or do we let his name pass through the halls of our lives like background noise?

Often, the problem isn’t that we’re trying to dishonor God—it’s that we’re unaware of how much we’ve normalized casual reverence. It’s like using a priceless artifact as a paperweight. You’re not trying to destroy it, but you’ve forgotten what it’s worth.

We live in a culture where language is constantly being diluted. Strong words are used so often they lose their punch. “Literally” no longer means literally. “Epic” gets applied to traffic or tacos. “OMG” becomes a default response to anything surprising. But what happens when that drift starts affecting the way we speak about God? What happens when “God” becomes just another syllable in our emotional reactions?

This isn’t about legalism or becoming the word police. It’s about heart awareness. Jesus said that out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks. That means our words are never just words. They’re windows into what we value, what we notice, what we love. If God’s name is constantly coming out of our mouths in ways that are empty, it might reveal that his presence is no longer filling us with awe.

Imagine giving someone a nickname they hate, and continuing to use it even after they’ve told you it hurts. You might not be trying to offend them, but your lack of care communicates something: their feelings don’t matter enough for you to change. That’s how thoughtless language works. It doesn’t have to be loud to be dishonoring. It just has to be careless.

And this doesn’t just apply to profanity or knee-jerk reactions. It applies to how we speak about God in church, in prayer, and in our daily conversations. Have you ever heard someone say “God told me…” and felt like they were using divine language to shut down disagreement? Have you ever tagged God’s name onto a plan or decision that you hadn’t really prayed about, but wanted to feel confident in?

This is a subtler misuse of God’s name. Not in anger, but in self-protection. We invoke his name to make ourselves seem more credible or to make our opinions harder to question. But unless he truly spoke, we’re borrowing authority we haven’t been given.

Using God’s name without understanding or without reverence isn't just a mistake in speech. It’s a spiritual shortcut. It bypasses relationship and replaces it with performance. And God is not looking for performance. He wants hearts that know him, trust him, and speak of him as he is—holy, near, full of grace and truth.

If we want to honor God’s name, we have to first reclaim our sense of awe. That doesn’t mean never speaking his name. It means never speaking it without heart. It means praying like we believe we’re being heard by someone who is both our Father and our King. It means remembering that reverence is not about fear. It’s about love that remembers who God is.

If you’re realizing that your language has gotten a little loose—or that your heart has gotten a little numb—this isn’t about guilt. It’s about invitation. You don’t need to clean up your mouth before you can draw near to God. But the closer you get to him, the more your words will begin to change. Reverence is the byproduct of relationship. And your heart will begin to say, “Your name is not just another word to me. It means something. You mean something.”

Apply

Today, pay attention to the way you use God's name—out loud and in your mind. Notice the automatic reactions. Notice how often “God,” “Lord,” or “Jesus” surface in conversations that aren’t really about him. Instead of feeling guilty, let those moments become gentle prompts to pause. Say his name slowly in prayer at some point today. Let it remind you of who he is—not just to the world, but to you.

Pray

God, I don’t want to treat your name like background noise. Forgive me for the times I’ve spoken it without thinking or used it without reverence. Teach me to speak of you like someone who knows you, loves you, and sees your worth. Let my language reflect your holiness. Let my words come from a heart that treasures who you are. In Jesus’ name. Amen.