Virtue
‘The virtues are lost in self-interest as rivers are lost in the sea.’ Franklin D. Roosevelt
Things are moving quickly these days, and the velocity seems to be increasing. With apologies to Ferris Bueller, life might’ve seemed fast in the 1980s, but they had nothing on the 2020s.
One small way I’m experiencing it is in trying to stay up on the pop lexicon, which may be a fool’s errand as an-almost-fifty father of teenagers. To wit, just as I caught on to the ‘6-7’ thing, my daughters informed me I needed to stop, as that was ‘so three months ago’. Points for trying, I hope.
Language generally, though, is evolving at a rate that seems historically unprecedented. In this mobile era of the Information Age, words and phrases can spring into common usage globally in a matter of not years or months, but weeks and days. Adulting, glow-up, quiet quitting, fit check, situationship, biohacking, sleep hygiene, looksmaxxing, vibe coding—to name just a few—are new in the past few years.
Perhaps no word has had (and continues to have) more impact on society this decade than COVID, even apart from the health implications of the disease it represents. In January 2020, the term had yet to be created.
I was pondering this rapidly changing linguistic environment recently when a Canyon Pathways brother brought up the increasing use of virtue signaling—another new turn of phrase over the past decade or so that’s become a ubiquitous cultural weapon in public (and especially digital) dialogue.
Like many pithy expressions, it has a certain usefulness as a description (if not an accusation) of what is indeed a deceitful thing: feigned moral righteousness, the broadcasting of the ‘right’ opinions, the insincere performance of good deeds to curry favor, secure status, or ward off condemnation. One could argue it’s not a bad two-word summary of Matthew 6:16.
But my friend’s comment was not simply an observation of the phrase’s pervasiveness—it was also a lament. While the saying is accusatory, its constituent terms are laudatory, and particularly the first. Virtue ought to be something we celebrate and cultivate, but by some estimates its usage in written English has decreased by more than 80% over the past 200 years.
Why has its use devolved from commended moral principles to a condemned moral posing? How has it come to feel like such a heavy, performative burden?
It’s a question that spotlights a particular aspect of the canyon of midlife leadership.
In this season, many of us feel the crushing and isolating weight of moral and managerial performance. We are expected to be the anchor that steadies others, the pillar that supports them, the foundation on which they can rest. To signal unwavering competence, unimpeachable ethics, and pristine character to our families, teams, and communities.
But this ‘performance pressure’ builds exponentially, and we begin to worry that if we stop striving, pause producing, or even let the mask slip momentarily, our essential insufficiency will be exposed. Virtue becomes reduced to an exhausting public posture—a moral mirage we must continually maintain to prove our worth.
How can we find relief from this seemingly righteous rat race? Let’s look to the word itself.
Virtue is often defined as ‘morally good behavior or character’, ‘a good and moral quality’, or ‘moral excellence’. In our modern vernacular, we treat virtue as a checklist of ethical execution—a tally of vices avoided and good deeds displayed.
But when we dig deeper, a far more potent truth emerges.
The word virtue came into English around the 13th century through the Old French vertu, meaning ‘moral strength, force, vigor’. That, in turn, was derived from the Latin virtus, indicating ‘goodness, valor, bravery, excellence’. This stemmed directly from the Latin vir (the source of our word virility). It meant simply ‘man’.
Whatever virtue is, it is elemental and innate to being a male bearer of the divine image. Something to be stewarded, not signaled.
Indeed, early Bible translators helped us rightly relate to this reality. They frequently used the word virtue where later translators rendered it as power. Translating the Greek dunamis (from which we get dynamite) thus helps us grasp that virtue was not then and is not now an outward performance or even a moral accomplishment. It was divine power and life-giving efficacy flowing from the Godhead into the world.
This understanding is transformational for the midlife leader on the journey from servanthood to sonship.
When we view virtue through the lens of servanthood, it becomes both a trophy and a taskmaster. A servant or hired hand relates to virtue as moral wages earned through striving and moral status achieved through proving one’s merit. So whether the servant wears the garb of a religious leader, a rich young ruler, or a responsible elder brother, the outcome is the same: an endless cycle of obligations, outcomes, and ostentatious self-justification (‘Look, these many years I have served you...’).
It is a cycle that ultimately leaves one bitter, isolated, and entirely estranged from the Creator’s heart. It reduces a man to ‘virtue signaling’ to the Father whose table he refuses to come in to.
But a son realizes virtue is not manufactured and advertised. It is received.
As sons of a good Father, we are heirs of the divine nature, receiving today a portion of the inheritance of immortality that, in the beginning, was breathed into the first son, and now is made available through the Son himself. By resting and receiving in his presence, we are able to come boldy and joyfully to the Father’s table, experiencing His divine virtue filling us and flowing through us.
And in the freedom we experience at the table of this sonship, ‘virtue signaling’ becomes obsolete. We find no need and feel no impulse to broadcast our credentials, because we hear a voice affirming we are beloved, and know that the world around us perceives it and longs for it.
That’s language that will never change, no matter the decade we find ourselves in.