Mom and Dad were both right particular about language. Not only about using proper grammar but also about accuracy in terminology.

For instance, let’s say you’re eight or nine years old and have a nice hot biscuit sitting on your plate. Or, even better, a fresh out of the oven, homemade yeast roll. Uhmm, uhmmm! That’s mighty fine eating, my friend. The only way to make either biscuit or roll even better is with butter.

And so, being the polite little critter that you is, you would in a very respectful and considerate tone ask, “Would you pass the butter, please?”

The reason that you would do this is because you could very clearly see a whole stick of butter sitting on a clean saucer right there smack dab in the middle of the table. Having asked very politely, you would have every expectation of having your request promptly facilitated. But instead, at the table we shared in our household, the response might very well be, “We don’t have butter; that’s margarine.”

Even if you were a visiting aunt or uncle, possibly even someone from church, that’s pretty much how the conversation would go. If you were highly esteemed and deeply appreciated, and your presence keenly valued, they would go ahead and pass the desired commodity while nonetheless clarifying the actual nature of the substance being served. If you were one of the kids, even a fully grown one, said condiment would not be relocated until you asked by the proper term. “Please pass the margarine.” Maybe with an extra “please” on the end.

Their policing of precise language and correct grammar contributed to me and my five siblings becoming fairly proficient writers and speakers. Most of the grammar exercises at school were a piece of cake for us. Just pick the one that sounds like Mom and Dad would say it. There were other effects as well, but I’ll leave that for another time.

I’m pretty sure that God attends more closely to our deepest desires and fervent longings than to our proper grammar and precise language when we are crying out to him in our hours of need. “Ahh, kid… I was looking at your heart even more than I was listening to your words. I knew what you meant all along. Don’t worry about it. I got this covered.”

In his love and mercy, genuine intent matters more than incidental expression. Might be good if I emulated that more often when conversing with my sojourners.