But I Don't Speak French... (Part 1 of 4)
Speaking in tongues and an angelic encounter in the middle of a West-African desert
Shaking Things Up
What you are going to read today is a real life account that happened to me and a missions team I was leading nearly six years ago.
As I was writing down our story, I realized that there was no way I could keep it down to 2,500 words or less. There was just too much to share.
Therefore, I have decided to do something a little different this time and release this in four smaller parts over the course of this week.
If you have not yet subscribed to our newsletter, you will want to do so now. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this one.
Also, I feel that what I am sharing in this particular four-part post is especially important for anyone who may be struggling with or perhaps even a little secretly skeptical of the idea of spiritual gifts in the Bible.
Because of this, I kindly ask that you would please share this post so that others may read my account and perhaps find some clarity in their own journey. Thank you in advance for your help with this! 🤎
Not A Debate
For whatever reason, speaking in tongues is one of those hot-topic issues in Christianity that is debated frequently and has caused divisions amongst denominations and individuals alike.
So let me begin by saying that while I personally believe in the full gospel teaching that tongues is a spiritual gift and will share scripture in this newsletter that supports the biblical truth and perspective of this gift, the purpose of this post is not to argue about whether or not the gift of tongues is real or still alive today.
I simply want to share my personal experience of how the Lord met me on a scorching hot and dusty desert road in the middle of a West-African country in order to provide supernatural provision when I needed it most - and all of this despite my skepticism and feelings of inadequacy.
Background
To be completely honest, as a child and teenager speaking in tongues kind of freaked me out, for lack of better words. I know now that the root of that discomfort was that it was simply a foreign concept and was not practiced regularly in my church.
I had read about it in the Bible, and I was very familiar with the Day of Pentecost and how the disciples were given the gift of tongues so that others were able to hear God’s word in their own language.
Acts paints a very clear picture of this spiritual phenomenon: “All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them” (Acts 2:4, NIV).
(By the way, I highly encourage you to read Acts 2 in its entirety. The account of what happened on the Day of Pentecost and how Holy Spirit used the gift of tongues to bring glory to God’s name is one I personally love and appreciate because it helped me to better understand the biblical background of this gift.)
However, I did not personally know anyone who spoke in tongues, so when I encountered it during revivals or other church settings with strangers, I didn’t know what to think or how to process it.
Add to that the fact that over the years Biblical scripture had been (unintentionally, I truly believe) taken out of context and even completely misquoted in churches and amongst Bible studies I had been a part of, and you can see how I might have been so confused.
For instance, I had been taught my whole life that unless someone was there to interpret, then the person speaking in tongues was not legitimate or that it was a sign it was not from God. That is just not true. But don’t take my word for it - read for yourself in 1 Corinthians 14:6-19.
(By the way, if you are interested in studying those verses - or any scripture - more in-depth, check out the Blue Letter Bible, a free and vetted Christian resource for Bible study. I personally enjoy reading commentary by David Guzik, Matthew Henry, and Chuck Smith.)
Slightly Cynical, but Still Curious
I first gave my life to Christ at the age of eight-years-old, and I later rededicated my life when I was thirteen.
But in my mid-twenties, I began to radically pursue Christ, and I could no longer ignore the concept of speaking in tongues as I grew in my relationship with Christ. I was spiritually stumped by the idea, and to be honest, slightly cynical.
I had no doubt that speaking in tongues was a real spiritual phenomenon or a gift from God. The issue was that I had seen it manifest in what can only be described as inauthentic or out of order on more than one occasion, so I was a little skeptical of what it truly looked like in a pure and undefiled manner.
Thankfully, God surrounded me by spiritual mentors one after another in my life who were kind and understanding and allowed me to ask all kinds of questions. They patiently listened as I tried to work it all out so that I could somehow rectify my faith and uncertainty.
I began to earnestly pray that the Lord would give me the gift of tongues, and I began to actively seek out any and all church events where I thought the possibility of me receiving the gift might occur.
An Idol vs. Kingdom Perspective
To be honest, I began to make an idol out of speaking in tongues. I think this was because in some Christian circles, this gift has been inappropriately elevated or used as a litmus test of being spirit-filled. There was a season where deep inside I felt inferior because I could not speak in another tongue.
I have had people from literally all over the world lay hands on me and pray for the impartation of tongues, yet nothing ever happened. Frustrated, I began digging in the word even more fervently, reading everything I could about this gift.
Finally realizing that my desire for the gift was beginning to overpower my desire to simply experience and have a relationship with Jesus, I repented.
1 Corinthians 14:1-33 helped me to put things back into order concerning the spiritual gifts when viewed from a Kingdom perspective, and I finally made peace with the idea that perhaps God had not chosen me to receive the gift of tongues.
Niger, Africa - Summer 2018
In the summer of 2018, I found myself in the West-African country of Niger. I had felt led to take a team to Africa on a three week mission trip where we spent two weeks in Mozambique and one week in Niger.
One afternoon, as we were returning from an outreach in a rural village, we came upon an automobile accident that had apparently just occurred. Compelled to help in some way, I asked Issa, our interpreter and a local pastor who had been our gracious guide for the week, to pull over so we could assess the situation.
We quickly deduced that the accident had involved a single vehicle, a large lorry, or what we might refer to as a “coal truck” here in Kentucky, that had been full of produce.
At first all we could see was the produce spread all over the road, so we quickly got out of the vehicle and began trying to help pick up the fruits and vegetables in an effort to help the truck driver try to salvage what I knew must be the livelihood of local farmers.
But as we began to pick up the produce off the road, a couple of locals appeared and began to yell at us in French, the primary language of Niger, motioning for us to stop and to put the food down. Confused at first, it finally dawned on me that they thought we were trying to capitalize on the situation and steal the food.
Our interpreter was a good distance away, so I tried to use gestures to explain to the people that we only wanted to help and that we were not trying to take the food. I stepped towards them in hopes that I could bridge the gap in communication somehow by closing the physical distance between us.
As I approached, their movements became more animated, indicating their attempt to convey their message to me. Now borderline frantic, the motions of their hands and arms grew bigger as they tried to motion for me to understand, their frustration quite visible.
It was in this moment that I felt the tiniest drop of something warm hit my arm. I looked down and saw what appeared to be a very small droplet of blood on my forearm.
Bewildered, I looked around, quickly scanning my body in an effort to discover where the blood had come from. Instinctively, I reached up to my nose thinking that perhaps the desert heat had caused a nosebleed, but there was nothing there.
In the middle of this game of charades with the man and woman on the road, I finally noticed that one of them was bleeding. The blood was not mine, but one of theirs.
In my search for the source of the blood on my body and my desperate attempts to communicate with these two people, I had not noticed their injuries as they had stood across the road from me.
As I tried to process what was going on and why these two people were injured and bleeding, I became acutely aware of some movement and sounds off to my left.
When I glanced over my shoulder, I was able to more fully take in the full scene and quickly realized that there had been more than produce being transported in that truck.
Down a steep embankment were probably 50+ people who had been riding on top of the produce in the back of the truck, a common method of transportation for people in rural areas of Africa.
Suddenly, their groans of pain and moans for help were audible as everything was immediately pulled into sharp focus.
Despite having no personal medical experience other than some lifeguard training several years prior, I found myself running down the hill to help, fueled by sheer adrenaline.
As I made my way down the hill, trying desperately not to fall, I realized that half of my team was also with me. One of my team members and friends was currently enrolled in nursing school, but other than that, we had no medical expertise or training.
What we were planning on doing once we reached the injured, I wasn’t sure. We just knew that we were being compelled to help the ones in front of us in that very moment.
End of Part 1
If you are enjoying this real life account so far, please be sure to CLICK HERE in order to check out Part 2!
What happens next is burned into my memory for all of eternity.