Living in a second language

(I wrote this several months ago, but it has stayed hidden in my computer. As I drove to church last night, I was reminded of these words, this prayer, and how much I need to rely on the Lord to help me communicate with my dear Monday Girls.)

The LORD came down to see the city and the tower which the sons of men had built. The LORD said, "Behold, they are one people, and they all have the same language. And this is what they began to do, and now nothing which they purpose to do will be impossible for them. "Come, let Us go down and there confuse their language, so that they will not understand one another's speech." So the LORD scattered them abroad from there over the face of the whole earth; and they stopped building the city. Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the LORD confused the language of the whole earth; and from there the LORD scattered them abroad over the face of the whole earth. Genesis 11:5-9

Scattered. Confused. Misunderstood. So have we lived ever since the day that work stopped in Babel. Different languages, cultures, and beliefs have made being “one people” humanly impossible. One could not even begin to count the number of lives destroyed by the conflicts that were born that day thousands of years ago. We have learned from generation to generation to fight against that which is different – and so much of what we encounter every day is just that: different views, opinions, ways of doing things. Even within groups that share the same spoken language, we find it difficult to understand each other, to work together, and only through much compromise and diligent effort can towers, cities, relationships, families, and churches be built and maintained.

Upon first read, I wonder if it’s true: if we could all speak the same language, would nothing be impossible? If we were one people who spoke one language and shared one culture, would the New Testament tell us, “With man, all things are possible”? I think of my own experiences with people who speak other languages – first and foremost, the Spanish-speakers I’ve met in Mexico, southwest Colorado, and in Birmingham; then my thoughts even wander to those I go to church with, especially the teenagers – they speak a language I couldn’t have learned in school: it is the language of young African-Americans in many of today’s inner cities, mixed with a Southern drawl and hip-hop slang that still baffles this white Midwesterner. What if I could speak their language, flawlessly, as if it were my own?

If I could speak their language, I wouldn’t have to think so hard. I would not have to choose my words so carefully, avoiding idioms and colloquialisms when speaking to one not fluent in my own language. I would not have to consider exactly what an idea or a figure of speech or a passage of Scripture means to me in order to figure out how best to illuminate it for them.

If I could speak their language, I could get away with talking more than I listen, and with assuming I know more about them than I do. There would be less to learn from each other, and we wouldn’t have to put forth much effort to find commonalities in the midst of our differences. There would be fewer stories to hear, since we’d share the same storybook.

If I could speak their language, I would take for granted the simple things that so graciously and magically unite us: awe of an adorable baby, the love of a mother, the pride of a father, laughter and tears in those moments when words are not needed, bridges built by rhythm and music – even the primal pain of grief.

If I could speak their language, pride would trump humility any day – I would not be reminded of my human inadequacies each time I begin to speak or pause to listen. I wouldn’t need to rely on the patience and grace of others because I wouldn’t have to worry about committing a faux pas, forgetting a word, or not being able to understand what they’re saying.

If I could speak their language, there would be no cultural barriers, nothing lost in translation, no brick walls to run up against when we can’t say what we so badly want to communicate. We would get things done faster and easier. We would simply get to work rather than getting to know each other first. Nothing would be impossible.

The only impossibility would be total reliance on God. I would be able to accomplish so much on my own that I would not have to trust him for knowledge, understanding, patience, wisdom, unification. He confused languages and scattered the people, then commanded us to GO, meaning that we must learn to speak and relate to those who are different. In going, we must face challenges and fears, and at times be crippled by what we lack. Thus, as we go, we are driven right back into the arms of God and onto our knees at his throne – knowing and trusting that He is the only one who can bridge the divide, the only one who can and will one day bring us back to a glorious unity in Him, when every knee will bow, every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

Lord, until that day, may I always be learning a new language.