And so, I am tired and stressed and overwhelmed. Or anxious, my heart beating faster. Or I simply don’t know what to do. Or happy and at peace and joyful.
And almost without realizing it, I find myself praying. In tongues.
* * *
How do I find myself in Oxford, England, in the 21st century, praying in tongues, this ancient first century gift vividly described in The Acts of the Apostles?
Well, 30ish years ago, when I was 17, I was visiting my grandmother in Mangalore, a pretty Catholic seacoast town on the west coast of India, where both my grandparents and Roy’s were born.
And there was a visiting Spanish priest called Marcellino Iragui who was running a Charismatic retreat.
It was a little like the Alpha course. We went through forgiveness, repentance, renouncing occult involvements, and on the last evening, the priest was to pray for the Baptism of the Holy Spirit.
Well, I drank it all in like mead. Not so my father, who was amused, and a trifle bored, and flatly refused to take me to the Charismatic Crusade for another day.
* * *
And so I asked a friend who knew the priest to introduce me, and asked for the Baptism in the Holy Spirit there and then.
(I have an instinctive distaste for rules–Anita Antinomian, my friend Paul calls me–and it amuses me that even in this holy encounter, I sought to jump the queue and do it my own way.)
“Is she hungry?” he asked my friend, Joyce Fernandes. “Yes,” she assured him, having no idea at all. (Indian women can be very nice!)
And so we went through the theory: tongues, gifts of the spirit, fruits of the spirit, and then he laid his hands on me, and prayed for the Baptism of the Spirit, having me repeat after him.
When he came to, “And Lord, please give me the gift of tongues,” I interrupted him.
“I don’t want that,” I said. “It would be too embarrassing. My family would tease me.”
“You can’t pick and choose among the gifts of God,” he said sternly.
And so we prayed. I felt nothing. I guess I was both disappointed and relieved.
I rejoined my father. “So are you now a Charismatic?” he said, amused by the whole business. “Have you the gift of tongues?”
“No,” I assured him.
We returned to my grandmother’s. “Do you have the gift of tongues?” “No,” I said.
* * *
Well, I spoke too soon. I woke that night with rushing, gushing joy, a river threatening to break the bounds of my personality. It was overwhelming: joy so ecstatic, so seismic, it was akin to pain.
I knelt by the side of my bed, and prayed in tongues, praising God for the beauty of the world, for himself, strange, barbarous-sounding unintelligible language bursting out of me.
I prayed in tongues, and I prayed with my mind, in rapture, in sentiments new to me, prayed in English and in the spirit-language, thanking God for his incomprehensible goodness, which I suddenly perceived. “Oh, Lord, I just praise you, I praise you, I praise you.”
* * *
And well, that language never left me. A month later, I was in Mother Teresa’s convent, as an aspirant, training to be a nun. I asked her in a one-on-one meeting, “Mother, what do you think about speaking in tongues?”
“One tongue is enough for a woman,” she said brusquely.
And that was that!
* * *
Well, but I still prayed in tongues; I couldn’t help it—remember that Anita Antinomian bit?–and have done so for the last 30 years.
Tense: I find myself praying in tongues. Anxious: Are we going to catch the plane, get round the bureaucratic no-men–I find myself praying in tongues.
And when my spirit soars, swells, for no good reason, I find myself again praying in tongues.
When I am unreasonably happy and exhilarated in my garden, or by the seashore, I find myself praying in ecstatic tongues. And, more restrained but slowly coursing into joy, I pray in tongues when I am sad, stressed or overwhelmed.
It is the greatest mood-changer, and wisdom-infuser I know. The greatest shortcut to joy.
* * *
And how did this language of my own come? Out of the blue, hours after I first heard about it–by the laying on of hands.
And sadly, my spirit-tongue hasn’t changed, and sadly, it sounds rather ugly to my years, barbaric even. It’s not Greek, or Latin, or French, languages I love. I heard my pastor sing in tongues once, and it sounded like Persian. Mine, it’s a cave man tongue long forgotten.
And that’s just as well, for if I spoke Old French, I would have been tempted to show off about my lovely spirit language. Instead, I have kept quiet about it, and prayed quietly as God meant, no doubt, for the last thirty years.
Some people say that one’s spirit language develops as we mature spiritually. Well, I have matured spiritually (ask Roy what an angel I can be when he is impossible. Well, sometimes!), but my language has stayed basically static.
And isn’t it strange that the one gift I specifically said I didn’t want was the one gift I got? Though, about 15-20 years, the gift of prophetic knowledge and insight began to manifest itself in me, and slowly be recognized by others, and it is now my most treasured spiritual gift
* * *
Rejoice always, pray constantly, in everything give thanks. How on earth is that possible?
Well, praying in tongues is one way. I pray when I go on a long walk, and soon flag. Or do manual work. Or in the winter when the night finds me too tired to read or write, but not quite tired enough to sleep. Too tired to pray coherently, but not tired enough to fall asleep.
And then the Spirit, left within my spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing my inheritance, prays in sounds without any words I understand, and God hears His intercession, and so I know that all will be well, all will be well, all manner of things will be well.
(Edited archive post)
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Read my new memoir: Rosaries, Reading, Secrets: A Catholic Childhood in India (US) or UK.
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Thank you for sharing your experience. I loved the quote from Mother Teresa, it cracked me up! But I also appreciate your honesty. I have to admit I have been skeptical about this gift in the past, then thinking well they are recognizable tongues. But now your story demonstrates, again, that God is much bigger than we can imagine!
Thanks, Amy, and thanks for your visit 🙂
I can’t stop cracking up about Mother Teresa. I didn’t know you’d met her, and I love that she had her little judgments, her little imperfections. Yes, yes. Beautiful post Anita. Thank you for sharing!
Thank you for visiting, Addie, and congratulations on your beautiful book, and all the joy around it!
God bless you Anita. I am from the apostolic pentecostal tradition and came across this testimony by chance, although nothing is truly coincidental, is it? In our tradition the gift of tongues is so common that it is many times looked down upon and disregarded as being only useful when there is a person present to interpret. But I have found it to be an empowering gift, a gracious reminder that though scripture declares that the tongue is an unruly member which no man can tame, yet Christ alone is able to tame it by his Spirit. Thank you so much for sharing and being a reminder that no gift from God should be taken for granted. It is a GIFT, not anything he was obligated to give us. I cherish the indwelling Holy Spirit and the gift of tongues. Be blessed in the name of Jesus Christ.
My goodness, what a beautiful and hopeful thought–that though the tongue is an unruly member which no man can tame, it can be tamed by the power of Jesus.
Since I grew up Catholic, and am now evangelical, I never dreamed of taking it for granted. It’s still strange and wonderful to me!
This is so fascinating, Anita. I’m glad you’ve shared in community with us at #TellHisStory. I laughed out loud at the part where you asked to specifically NOT receive the gift of tongues. Isn’t that often the way of God? How we get what we never asked for, and later find it to be a beautiful gift from our Creator? Thanks again for your participation.
Thank you for commenting, Jennifer. I was delighted to come across #TellHisStory. Thanks for creating the linkup
Anita, I am so pleased to read your account of receiving baptism in the Holy Spirit and the gift of speaking in tongues. It brought back memories. I was about 17 as well when a charismatically inclined friend offered to pray for me and this wonderful (yet odd-sounding) prayer language issued forth. As most of my church experience after conversion was in the main-stream evangelical tradition, such things were viewed as weird, suspicious, odd and ‘Not for Us’. So I allowed my gift to languish for years, little realising how potent and good it actually was.
Eventually, the journey of faith I have taken in recent years opened my eyes to the usefulness and power of speaking in tongues. Now I greatly value and practice it for the blessing it is. It has proved invaluable for intercessory prayer in particular.
Well done for speaking forth about your experiences. They serve to enlighten, encourage and equip others to see how glorious these gifts are and how much God desires us to be blessed with the many and varied gifts at His disposal. Thank you.
YES! Thanks, Joy
Thank you for sharing your experience, Anita. It was so beautifully written and enlightening for those of us who have never received this gift.
Aly! Lovely to hear from you. And thank you!
Both the reading of your post and the viewing of the accompanying photo warmed my heart, Anita! I kept nodding in agreement and smiling in recognition of a kindred spirit who is connected to the Holy Spirit, and Him to her. You’ve captured the immense, inexplicable blessing of the gift of tongues. I, like you, had asked for it, but never received it as a result of laying on of hands. It’s coming up on 12 years since I received the gift, and I’ve never looked back. Couldn’t even if I wanted to!
Yay, so glad you have it too.
The responses to my post on Facebook, Twitter and on the blog make me wonder if this a more common experience that one supposes. If everyone who has the gift keeps VERY QUIET about it… 🙂
You are so brave to write about this and you did it so incredibly well. Like a cool breeze on a hot day are your words Anita. Loved reading your account. I find myself speaking in tongues often, without even realizing it most of the time. It’s funny because I’m writing something about it for my next post. This was timely for me.
So look forward to reading your post, Shelly. And thank you for Sabbath sisters. I have failed miserably the first two Sundays, but have realized that just as we must make preparations early if we want to have an early night, we must start preparations on Saturday to be able to rest on Sunday.
Anita,
I loved reading your account of how you came to speak in tongues. I, too, have been given the gift but I didn’t ask for it. No, it just came upon me during one very intense intercessory prayer experience. It took me a while to even understand what was happening, since I was alone, but once I did, it was comforting and exhilirating at the same time. And I continue to experience much the same way that you do, in my coming and going, in my waking and reposing. I find that it is what emerges when my heart pains deeply for someone or something or when I am most happy, most enthralled with something straight from God’s heart.
Thank you so much for sharing.
Thank you, Holly? Might you write your own account of this gift we keep so secret?
Loved reading this. My ‘tongue’ too is the same language as I was given nearly fifty years ago – though I often notice new words added to it or a familiar word taking on a different form or inflexion. I have no idea what the language is – though quite early on I taped it and just of curiosity tried to figure out parts of speech and grammar because it certainly wasn’t gibberish!
Yes, I have noticed that the pattern of repetition is similar to normal speech. The Psalms are very repetitive too. “I praise you, Lord, for you are good” would be repeated a lot, I imagine.
“They Speak in Other Tongues,” a book by John Sherrill describes a Yale experiment, or was it Princeton? in which glossolalia is taped and analysed, and some languages were identified, and in some cases, languages were assigned to possible language families!