The day when Pastor Solomon and his wife laid their hands on me, closed their eyes and prayed for me to speak in tongues, I felt guilty. I felt guilty for feeling outside of that moment. I didn’t feel the gift being endowed upon me. I only watched them from below with eyes that should have been closed. Listened to them repeat over and over Hababasheekalabah! Lord, let her speak in tongues!
Ha-ba-ba-ba-sheek-a I would hesitate, hoping/waiting for the Holy Spirit to come infect me so that I wouldn't disappoint, until finally they gave up, not encouraged by my weak imitations of their chantings. There is only so long I suppose you can go on trying to give someone a gift.
And then they opened their eyes, looked down at me and around themselves. The room suddenly silent.
A clearing of the throat, a re-adjustment of clothes and then we all wandered off to our respective errands or activities. The beginning and the end of my ever speaking in tongues, ending as suddenly as it had begun.
No comments:
Post a Comment