The Language of Elliot

"Gurrrtl Mummit," Elliot said, making some very odd guttural sounds in his throat as he did so.  "Does anyone know what that means?"

"It means you have something stuck in your throat?"  I hazarded.

"No, Dad," Elliot said.  "It means 'Hooray Christmas!' in Elliot language."

"Oh," I said.  It is a bit strange to live in a household where there is a special language that is spoken and happens to be the only place in the world where that tongue is spoken.  Maybe Elliot can marry a Wycliffe Bible translator some day who can learn to speak it as well.  I have a feeling that by that time he will have moved on to something else.

At the same time, I don't know of the benefit of a language spoken by only one person.  To me, the whole point of language is for communication.  Compared to languages like English, Spanish, and Mandarin Chinese, Elliot, the language, is tiny and fairly useless, except to aggravate siblings.

Fortunately, Elliot speaks English too.  His parents and other random people can speak to him in something other than Elliot-talk.  This is awfully handy, as there are probably fifteen other languages I would probably rather learn to speak than Elliot.

As I think about it, every person on this planet is important to Jesus and every one of them needs to know the blessing of His life and sacrifice.  This is true if they speak English, or a dialect spoken only by 862 members of a tribe in the Amazonian rain forest.

Languages are for communication and there is nothing more important than sharing the message of God's love with others.

Even in the weird guttural language of my seven year old son.