Terri L. French

Tongue-tied

I would rather speak five intelligible words to instruct others
than ten thousand words in a tongue.
       — 1 Corinthians 14:18–19, New International Version

I am on my knees at the altar, praying for things teenage girls pray for—a new boyfriend, clearer skin—when the youth minister kneels behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Sometimes you just need to start doing it and it will come to you,” he whispers. I know what he’s talking about. I can hear people on either side of me doing it. Speaking in tongues. A gift from the Holy Spirit, to be able to utter an unknown language. With most people it sounds like a mixture of baby babble and Greek. I’m not feeling it. I say my “amen” and go back to the pew.

That night, I kneel by my bed, determined to receive the gift.

Ahya konda moblay ashandra kontra . . .

I feel silly. What is the purpose of this gift? I’d rather heal the sick or perform miracles, like getting rid of this zit on the end of my nose.

Sunday sermon
the ASL interpreter
ad libs

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About the Author

Terri L. French is a poet/writer and retired Massage Therapist. She and her husband, Ray, have four mostly grown children and one spoiled dog. They now enjoy the nomadic life of full-time RVers.