Tongue Tied
I was now officially filled with the Holy Spirit...
...or so I thought. It seemed that I could never truly earn that designation without first speaking in tongues. I mean, c'mon, everyone knows THAT'S the surest sign of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit! But it wouldn't take. Each time there was a service where the preacher invited people to come forward to receive the baptism, I was there. My mind and heart were open, I prayed in earnest, those gathered around me would whoop up a storm of tongues and yet no matter how long I stood there, hands raised I got nuthin', zero, zilch, nada. "No tongues for you!"
For the longest time I thought there was something wrong with me. Was there some "hidden sin" in my life? And really, if I was sinning, wouldn't I know it? Worst case scenario, maybe I was never really chosen to be a child of God! I don't remember whether I expressed my doubt and apprehension to anyone. Eventually I just stopped going forward. But then it got weird...I mean weirder. Some of those blessed with tongues started to notice me, that poor girl... worshiping, raising hands, and completely tongue-less. On several occasions, at random services, various people asked to pray for me, how could I say no?
The prayers usually went something like this: "Oh Looohrd, praaaise you Jesus....I thank you for my sister Jennifer. She is yours, a daughter of the King! PRAAAAAiiisss you, JEE-sus! Father, I ask you to rain down your blessings on her, open her heart and mind to receive all you have to offer her... Humna-shala-ko bou-ya-sham-na, kawa-saki, sooz-uki, hon-da!" Ultimately this was a pity prayer, 'lord please give this girl what she lacks, she isn't complete just yet". People eventually left me alone after their prayers didn't take. That was a welcome relief, until...
...years later... A close friend of mine pulled this shit on me one day at church. I was twenty-seven and pregnant with my third child. I can still see her vividly, she approached me as I left the nursery to go upstairs back to the church service. She was smiling, but it was one of those "concerned" smiles, you know, pity.
"Jen, the Lord has given me a burden for you. I feel I need to pray for you."
"Um...sure.", who am I to deny what "God" puts on another persons heart.
I stood there, and lo and behold, the same "please give Jenny tongues" message came pouring forth. My heart sank. I felt judged, misunderstood, and frustrated. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Holy Spirit lived in me. When I read scripture or prayed I was moved and convicted. I knew I had wisdom and exhibited the "fruit of the spirit" (love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and self-control). I knew scripture quite well and it states clearly that not all will speak in tongues, it is not a gift for everyone and having the gift doesn't mean you are special or singled out by god. It even goes on to say that if you speak in tongues and don't understand it it is no better than a clanging bell.
This was the first of many red flags I had concerning Pentecostalism...
...I began to listen more carefully to what I was taught in each service and bible study, and did my best to see how the teachings and practices of the church measured up to what the Bible actually says, I educated myself. After all, the truth should be able to stand up to scrutiny. And so I scrutinized.
For the longest time I thought there was something wrong with me. Was there some "hidden sin" in my life? And really, if I was sinning, wouldn't I know it? Worst case scenario, maybe I was never really chosen to be a child of God! I don't remember whether I expressed my doubt and apprehension to anyone. Eventually I just stopped going forward. But then it got weird...I mean weirder. Some of those blessed with tongues started to notice me, that poor girl... worshiping, raising hands, and completely tongue-less. On several occasions, at random services, various people asked to pray for me, how could I say no?
The prayers usually went something like this: "Oh Looohrd, praaaise you Jesus....I thank you for my sister Jennifer. She is yours, a daughter of the King! PRAAAAAiiisss you, JEE-sus! Father, I ask you to rain down your blessings on her, open her heart and mind to receive all you have to offer her... Humna-shala-ko bou-ya-sham-na, kawa-saki, sooz-uki, hon-da!" Ultimately this was a pity prayer, 'lord please give this girl what she lacks, she isn't complete just yet". People eventually left me alone after their prayers didn't take. That was a welcome relief, until...
...years later... A close friend of mine pulled this shit on me one day at church. I was twenty-seven and pregnant with my third child. I can still see her vividly, she approached me as I left the nursery to go upstairs back to the church service. She was smiling, but it was one of those "concerned" smiles, you know, pity.
"Jen, the Lord has given me a burden for you. I feel I need to pray for you."
"Um...sure.", who am I to deny what "God" puts on another persons heart.
I stood there, and lo and behold, the same "please give Jenny tongues" message came pouring forth. My heart sank. I felt judged, misunderstood, and frustrated. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Holy Spirit lived in me. When I read scripture or prayed I was moved and convicted. I knew I had wisdom and exhibited the "fruit of the spirit" (love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and self-control). I knew scripture quite well and it states clearly that not all will speak in tongues, it is not a gift for everyone and having the gift doesn't mean you are special or singled out by god. It even goes on to say that if you speak in tongues and don't understand it it is no better than a clanging bell.
This was the first of many red flags I had concerning Pentecostalism...
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