A failed attempt to speak in Tongues

I read an intriguing article on speaking in tongues, that inspired me to also write on how I yearned to speak in tongues.

Having grown up going to a conventional Catholic church, speaking in tongue was so foreign. One Sunday, towards the end of the mass and just before the usual announcements, a guest was invited to speak, this meant the mass was going to be a bit longer than usual. I can’t remember if I had breakfast before going to church that morning and if I didn’t partake in the eucharist because I was such a sinner the previous night for kissing a girl at a night club.

The guest was introducing the “Charismatic” group. To me this was so Pentecostal and it was like the Catholic Church in a hip hop T-shirt without jeans. Trying to remain conservative and modern at the same time.

My curiosity eventually led me to join one of the very first Charismatic group in our church. Our prayers were being held on Sunday evenings at one of the church’s chappel. I mean, I had to attend a mass in the morning and a prayer group session in the evening. Some Sundays, after a long week at work, I would be so tired to make it for prayers, but in our prayer group, somehow this was translated as a sign of the work of the evil i.e., not allowing me to go pray. Yes, imagine its a true story. I love it how in East Africa, Kenya in particular, “imagine” is added to a sentence to show emphasis in describing facts and nonfictional events…”me thinks” its hilarious …lols…another one from Nairobi.

Anyway, where was I…yes, the prayer group. It felt like the only way I would fit in, was to be able to speak in tongues. Everyone who appeared to be very prayerful seemed to be able to speak in tongues. So I also wanted to speak in tongues, I wanted to be connected to the spirit, I wanted to be fully in prayer – like ndani (inside) almost in heaven kinda place.

An opportunity came, it was a special session, a time to discover our gifts, speaking in tongues was it. It is my gift – I told myself.

He told me “relax your lips, open your mouth a bit and just continue praying”, I guess just say oh yes, yes…or what comes to mind.

Yibi rabaraba yadayada kshiii…I couldn’t focus, I was disrupted by others speaking in tongues already, I didn’t understand, am I not prayerful? It got louder, I opened my eyes, the rest were very focused and some deep trance state of mind speaking in tongues. About a minute or two later, man, no tongue spoke from my mouth. It appeared as if, those who spoke in tongues took off from an International Airport and I was at an airstrip waiting for clearance to take off. I didn’t get clearance, the weather wouldn’t permit my take off. It was a done deal.

I questioned myself, am I not prayerful, am I not spiritual enough? I mean, I know I can’t see the Holy Spirit but does it mean I can’t be seen by the Holy Spirit?

Logic started to check in, it had to. I speak Kihaya, Kiswahili and English and yes I was taking French classes at lunch hour, three times a week.

Wait…, all those who spoke in tongues didn’t utter any word of Kihaya, Kiswahili, English or even French, at least for me to understand the message God was giving us. I highly doubt that even those who spoke in tongues understood what they were saying.

The curious me still wanted to understand this speaking in tongues gift, my baseline was in the bible scene, where the disciples of Jesus got fired up, went out in confidence and spoke about the good news, and all the people from the different twelve languages understood what they were saying. So why not me? One thing remained sure for me was that, Kihaya, Kiswahili, English and French are not spoken in tongues during prayer and are clearly then not part of the twelve languages that were spoken by the disciples.

I guess I am still wondering why don’t I have a gift of tongues and why I wouldn’t even understand what is being said and the message being conveyed by God? I think its only prudent to understand what is being conveyed to us by the spirit during a prayer session. Hey, I tried.

But I realised, when I am deep into prayer, I cry, but this is not one of the gifts of the spirit, or is it?