There's this interesting passage in Acts about the churches speaking in tongues, and there's a great debate today over whether these tongues are real or not and whether we should be speaking in them. The truth is, however, that we're all speaking in them. We all have our own tongue in which we understand and express God. We each have our own God-language, and where we do not understand the many tongues in which we speak God, we really have the power to wound each other.
I'm not speaking here of traditional languages, of the formation of words by syllable. I'm speaking of the spiritual disciplines and the engagement of man with God, which manifests differently in each of our lives.
This week, we've looked at some of the tongues we speak - the Word, worship, prayer, and sacred spaces. There are many, many more. Some speak the tongue of solitude. Some, of community. Some, of service. The list goes on and on.
Biblical wisdom tells us that we should never speak in tongues unless someone is there to translate what we're saying for those who do not understand. Herein lies our trouble, and also a blessed invitation. When you don't understand the tongue in which you speak God, it can be wounding to others around you. They can't understand what you're saying, and no matter how good what you're saying is, it is not edifying. I think it's Paul who says that when the tongue is translated, it is an invitation for all to give thanks.
But if you understand that you're speaking in tongues, the beautiful thing is that you become a translator for those around you.
There are people at my church who speak the tongue of the Word. I can instantly bring them to mind. And although this is not my language, when they do this with humility, they actually help translate the Word for me. (Of course, when they do not do this with humility, they are wounding.) But for the most part, listening to someone who speaks the Word talk about Scripture is this incredible experience for me. They are giving me an incredible gift, a new language in which to experience God - even if it is one in which I may always stumble over my words.
There are people at my church who speak the tongue of worship. I can bring them to mind, too. And when they do this with humility, they actually help translate worship for me. (Of course, when they do not do this with humility, they are wounding.) I can look around my sanctuary on any Sunday and notice these people, and I can see the sincerity of worship on their faces as they praise God. Watching them, I appreciate anew the meaningfulness in worship. They are giving me an incredible gift, a new language in which to experience God - even if I may spend the rest of my life only singing.
There are people at my church who speak the tongue of prayer. I know just who they are. And when they do this with humility, they help translate prayer for me. (Of course, when they do not do this with humility, they are wounding.) I talk with them, and prayer is a natural part of their conversation. It doesn't feel weird or awkward to them. The longer we talk, the less prayer feels weird and awkward to me, at least as an idea. They are giving me an incredible gift, a new language in which to experience God - even if I always wonder whether He hears me or not.
And me? I hope that in humility, I am helping to translate the tongue of sacred spaces for those around me. (Of course, in the absence of humility, I am wounding to others, and I admit my fair share of that, too.) I hope I help them to understand what it's like to more than read the story, but to be a part of it. I hope that when I fall at the feet of the Cross, I help them to fall, too. I hope that when I lay my burdens on the altar, they see the sacredness of the altar. I hope that when I break bread over the table, they start to see more than a table. I hope that I am giving them the incredible gift they are giving me, a new language in which to experience God - even if they never live the story in this way.
The same is true for whatever tongue you're speaking. The Bible warns us not to speak unless someone is there to translate, and that someone for most of us is Humility. When you speak your God-language with humility, you translate it for those around you. You add richness and depth to their spiritual experience. You invite them to experience God in a new way. They don't even have to fully understand.
I think it's Chris Tomin who has this awesome version of "How Great Is Our God" out. It's called the "World Edition," and it features different languages singing the verses and choruses over that hauntingly familiar melody. I don't have to understand...whatever languages those are...to be struck by the beauty of the song; the instrumentation translates it for me so I still know what they're singing. I hear their praise.
That's what happens here. I don't have to understand the tongue of the Word, of worship, of prayer, of service, of solitude, of community, of whatever to understand the praise. Just give me enough of the melody to hold onto and I'll get it. That's what we do for each other in our tongues. We give each other at least an ear for the God-languages.
And all God-language is praise.
This week, we've looked at some of the tongues we speak - the Word, worship, prayer, and sacred spaces. There are many, many more. Some speak the tongue of solitude. Some, of community. Some, of service. The list goes on and on.
Biblical wisdom tells us that we should never speak in tongues unless someone is there to translate what we're saying for those who do not understand. Herein lies our trouble, and also a blessed invitation. When you don't understand the tongue in which you speak God, it can be wounding to others around you. They can't understand what you're saying, and no matter how good what you're saying is, it is not edifying. I think it's Paul who says that when the tongue is translated, it is an invitation for all to give thanks.
But if you understand that you're speaking in tongues, the beautiful thing is that you become a translator for those around you.
There are people at my church who speak the tongue of the Word. I can instantly bring them to mind. And although this is not my language, when they do this with humility, they actually help translate the Word for me. (Of course, when they do not do this with humility, they are wounding.) But for the most part, listening to someone who speaks the Word talk about Scripture is this incredible experience for me. They are giving me an incredible gift, a new language in which to experience God - even if it is one in which I may always stumble over my words.
There are people at my church who speak the tongue of worship. I can bring them to mind, too. And when they do this with humility, they actually help translate worship for me. (Of course, when they do not do this with humility, they are wounding.) I can look around my sanctuary on any Sunday and notice these people, and I can see the sincerity of worship on their faces as they praise God. Watching them, I appreciate anew the meaningfulness in worship. They are giving me an incredible gift, a new language in which to experience God - even if I may spend the rest of my life only singing.
There are people at my church who speak the tongue of prayer. I know just who they are. And when they do this with humility, they help translate prayer for me. (Of course, when they do not do this with humility, they are wounding.) I talk with them, and prayer is a natural part of their conversation. It doesn't feel weird or awkward to them. The longer we talk, the less prayer feels weird and awkward to me, at least as an idea. They are giving me an incredible gift, a new language in which to experience God - even if I always wonder whether He hears me or not.
And me? I hope that in humility, I am helping to translate the tongue of sacred spaces for those around me. (Of course, in the absence of humility, I am wounding to others, and I admit my fair share of that, too.) I hope I help them to understand what it's like to more than read the story, but to be a part of it. I hope that when I fall at the feet of the Cross, I help them to fall, too. I hope that when I lay my burdens on the altar, they see the sacredness of the altar. I hope that when I break bread over the table, they start to see more than a table. I hope that I am giving them the incredible gift they are giving me, a new language in which to experience God - even if they never live the story in this way.
The same is true for whatever tongue you're speaking. The Bible warns us not to speak unless someone is there to translate, and that someone for most of us is Humility. When you speak your God-language with humility, you translate it for those around you. You add richness and depth to their spiritual experience. You invite them to experience God in a new way. They don't even have to fully understand.
I think it's Chris Tomin who has this awesome version of "How Great Is Our God" out. It's called the "World Edition," and it features different languages singing the verses and choruses over that hauntingly familiar melody. I don't have to understand...whatever languages those are...to be struck by the beauty of the song; the instrumentation translates it for me so I still know what they're singing. I hear their praise.
That's what happens here. I don't have to understand the tongue of the Word, of worship, of prayer, of service, of solitude, of community, of whatever to understand the praise. Just give me enough of the melody to hold onto and I'll get it. That's what we do for each other in our tongues. We give each other at least an ear for the God-languages.
And all God-language is praise.
No comments:
Post a Comment