Do you ever wonder how God translates all our prayers. Not just in different languages but through myriads of dialects.
I grew up in a small town and we had our own vernacular. Think colloquialisms with a little regional dialect factored in, i.e. "Kentucky hick". We were the ones who didn't "chicken out" in red rover or crack the whip on the playground. One's mom could be "fixin' to" get the switch if you "din't mind" her. If your actions were really bad/disobedient she would threaten to "skin you alive" or "tan your hide". If it were Saturday you could pretty much "reckon" that you'd be sittin' on the same pew tomorrow as you did every Sunday.
If you asked for directions, a simple finger point and the words "just down the road a piece" was only understood if you were from our "neck of the woods."
"Over yonder" was also a directional term frequently used if the place was within sight of the one giving the direction. It's just over yonder thru that field a ways.
Linguists or grammarians might describe small town talk as esoteric---but that descriptor would be too formal for our ears and one "might of" had to get out the Websters for direction to that definition.
God hears when we call out. Right into His ears regardless of language or dialect. (Psalm 18:6)
God gives understanding in a language all can understand. (Psalm 119:130)
How grateful I am that His word gives me directions I can understand.
Words that go directly to my heart.
Words that go directly to my heart.
Even if I'm "over yonder" in my thoughts, reading His word can pull me back in for godly wisdom with will give light to my path as I go the right direction.
