There is an N-word that’s more diabolical than nigga.  I’ve understood the disrespectful, hateful, racial tone of the use of nigger since I was a child. I was raised to respect all people, therefore I’ve never used it other than to discuss its disregard for human life, the Declaration of Independence (all men are created equal), and the Bible (“So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them,”  Genesis 1:26-27; “Love your neighbor as yourself,”  Jesus commanded in Matt. 22:39).
When the N-word is used in a hateful manner, it is sin, for hate is sin, as is anything that breaks our connection to the Source of all love, God.
There is an N-word I use both in thought, word, and deed that has terrible consequences.  It is a powerful word that always involves choice.  It is the original N-word, a word that turns our will against another’s.   It can be ignored but not mistaken.  It can be misunderstood and rejected.  It is often difficult to accept upon hearing.  It is spoken to God regularly Who views it as mercifully as the other N-word, knowing it comes from minds with limited capacity to understand or embrace that which it fears.
By my actions, I have used this word in what I have done and in what I have failed to do.  It tourniquets the flow of God’s grace.   With it, I’ve slammed mental doors and hardened my heart like a stone.  I am often in fear of it should others choose to use it, and find it irritating or comical, depending on my mood, when toddlers spew it.
While a necessary use of it keeps evil away, when spoken to God, it puts us in whiteout conditions: cold and unable to find our way.  I know what I know when I say no.  When I say it to God, however, I know not enough.  I love not enough.