A Word About …Whatever
My wife sent me to the grocery store yesterday afternoon. I often forget what she’s sent me to get at the store, so I had my list with me, just to make sure. As I walked down the cereal aisle, I noticed a mother and a teenage girl standing in front of all the 9-zillion kinds of cereal displayed. The girl had earbuds in her ears and she stared at a cell phone she was holding.
I overheard the mom ask the girl a question, as I walked by them: “What kind of cereal would you like?” The girl was obviously paying no attention to her mother, so mom repeated the question, a little louder this time: ‘What kind of cereal would you like?’ The daughter without missing a beat, and without giving any indication she was even interested, gave a one-word response: ‘Whatever.’
And just like that, the conversation was over.
Words and how we use them can change, over time. Have you noticed? Once upon a time, whatever could mean something wide open. Like a gift offered. A heart surrendered. A door waiting to be walked through.
These days, it often feels like a period at the end of a sentence no one wants to finish.
But the Apostle Paul used whatever with a very different tone.
“Whatever is true. Whatever is noble. Whatever is right. Whatever is pure. Lovely. Admirable. If anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think on these things.”
That kind of whatever doesn’t dismiss. It directs. It doesn’t give up. It gives focus.
I’ve come to believe there are at least four kinds of whatever. Maybe you’ve heard them. Maybe you’ve spoken them.
There’s the first kind. The dismissive kind.
It’s the verbal version of walking away. When we don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to feel it. Don’t want to be seen.
It sounds like a shield. But it’s usually just hurt, pretending not to care.
Then there’s the distracted kind.
We say it when we’re overloaded with options, and none of them feel worth the effort.
“What do you want for dinner?”
“I don’t know. Whatever.”
It’s a low-grade fog that keeps us from choosing anything deeply good.
The third kind is the one Paul was pointing to. A discerning whatever.
The kind that scans the headlines of life and says, “This one’s worth thinking about.”
It filters what we let in. It shapes what we think about. It slows us down long enough to notice what still carries beauty.
And then there’s the final kind. The devoted kind.
Paul again. “I’ve learned to be content, whatever the circumstances.”
This isn’t resignation. It’s trust. The quiet kind that doesn’t need answers to keep going. The kind that walks with God into the unknown and says, “I’m still with You. No matter what.”
So the next time you hear someone toss out whatever, don’t be too quick to move on.
There’s a story hiding in that word.
The only question is—what kind?
Grace Notes for Reflection or Discussion
- When you say whatever, do you tend to be stepping away from something—or making peace with it?
- Has there been a time when you heard yourself use whatever as a kind of cover, when something deeper was actually going on?
- Paul invited us to “think on” whatever is good and true. What’s one thing this week that’s been worth thinking about more deeply than you have?
- If you could bring a devoted whatever into one area of your life today—what would it be? And what might it change?