Speaking in Tongues

To a "died-in-the-wool" Baptist, the phrase "speaking in tongues" always sounded a bit scary. The first time I experienced it was in California at a beach front church in the 1970's where the congregants were wearing cut offs and had long hair. "Hey" I thought to myself, "it's the way California worships."

In the many parts of the world I have traveled I typically use an interpreter to share stories, explain the tricks, and make the most of my jokes. I confess some things (like the southern use and overuse of the word "yall") just don't translate. At the recent Getaway for Wounded Warriors, my best friend lead a break out session on the five "Love Languages."

If you aren't familiar with the concept, theory, or practice you should be. It is how we all have a special "language" that communicates above and beyond verbal language. They are:

Words of Affirmation
Quality time
Receiving Gifts
Acts of Service
Physical Touch

Most people have one, or maybe two ways that love is communicated depending on upbringing, education and circumstance. I have found in cross-cultural ministry, there is a "speaking in tongues" that takes place deep in the soul.

Today, my teammates returned to the orphanage to speak with the physicians and caregivers on various aspects of Attachment Disorder. Primarily the goal was to encourage their work and offer simple yet effective ways to profoundly impact children brought up in an institutional setting.

I stayed behind.

I spoke in tongues.

The young girl who served as our interpreter yesterday came to the Hope House to help with the scheduled night's meeting of the "You Are Not Alone" club. She had time on her hands, and the Lord had His own plans for my time.

One of the young men who I have known for 12 years came downstairs and wanted help with celebrating the club leaders birthday. Well, the Queen of Hatmakers replied, "If you have a hat, we can have a whole lot of happy!" We spent the next several hours making celebration plans and creating a bing-bash-bang of a hat.

I asked if he remembered giving me his picture over ten years ago. He laughed, and replied, "You know children do silly things like that." I responded by saying it wasn't silly to me at all. I said that his picture is above my desk and everyday I tell him good morning. He laughed almost embarrassed. I said, "What you didn't hear me?"

Then he asked me to tell him my "story."

I talked and shared while my interpreter used the language he could understand. The Spirit assured me the story of my life and journey of redemption was one way the language of love was heard loud and clear in the heart of a young man who never had a mother's voice speak into his life any good mornings or good nights.

Still smiling
Still speaking with the tongues of angels