Speaking in tongues

Have you ever thought about what you’ll ask God when you meet him? It’s God. You can ask him anything. But aren’t you kind of nervous some of our questions would make him laugh?

I’ve got many questions, but one at the forefront of my mind is when I thought he told me I had to do something.

There’s a coffee shop in Kansas City called Black Dog Coffeehouse. It’s in a suburban plaza with a vape shop and a pizza place, but inside the doors, the warm spews from behind the counter, and the bakery next door into the large plush couches. The place winds back into the building with rooms and alcoves where you can sit without being bothered.

I frequented the place because I lived right behind it. They have these incredible almond butter cookies, and there was a barista I thought was pretty.

I was reading the Bible over a mocha on a rainy fall Saturday afternoon.

I can’t remember what I read, but I wanted God to speak to me. The truth is, I felt like a Christian imposter. I went to church, but around the handraisers and the communion criers, I felt like a fraud. It would be much easier if he would speak out loud, answer my questions, and tell me I had a seat at the table. And I thought if I obeyed well enough, I believed hard enough, he’d reveal some verse, give me a feeling, or I’d hear that still, small voice I’ve heard about in church.

“Are you reading the Bible?” a girl with raven black hair and glasses walked up. She was a few years younger than me and spoke as soft as a bird.

‘He that denieth me before men’ flashed in my head.

“Erm, yes. Yes, I am.”

“That’s so cool. Umm. Some friends and I do a Bible Study on Wednesday nights. You should come sometime.”

No part of me thought I should say yes. But it’s a sign. Go.

“Sure!” We exchanged numbers, and she sent me the address.

Two nights later, I was outside an old corporate apartment off the SW Trafficway in Westport. It might have been nice in the 90’s, but vines were growing up the walls. The wooden staircases looked like they were rotting, with cobwebs everywhere.

I knocked on the apartment door, and the raven-haired girl answered. It was a typical box apartment for college and post-college kids filled with Target furniture, a couch from Goodwill, and four girls sitting around the coffee table. There were Disney DVDs on the shelf and “Live.Laugh.Love” decor on the walls.

“This is Sam. He’s going to join us tonight,” the raven-haired girl said. Her voice had taken on a monotone quality it didn’t have in the coffee shop.

“Hi, Sam! Good to meet you!” they all said close to unison.

“Erm, do you all go to church together?” I asked, ensconcing myself on the corner of the couch as far from any of the girls as I could be.

“Well, we haven’t found a church yet and we live here together. This is our church,” the raven-haired girl said. The rest smiled at me.

“Is anyone else coming?” I asked.

“Nope! Let’s get started!”

The Bible Study was simple. We talked about Joseph or faith or something. I can’t remember. I spent the whole time staring at the maps in the back of my Bible with my heart beating in my ears.

‘Ok, God. I’m here. Do you want to speak to me? Why am I here? Honestly? Why did you make me come to this? Lord! Tell me!’

The raven-haired girl was looking at me. They all were. I realized she’d said something, and I didn’t hear it.

“I’m sorry?”

“We’re going to speak in tongues now.”

My daughter pooped so much last month it filled up the chair she was sitting in. Everything was covered in mustard-yellow and brown sludge. The smell was horrendous. It was all over her clothes, and her hands had gotten in it. Yet, seeing that poop, my face wasn’t nearly as shocked as it was when that girl told me they were about to speak in tongues.

There were Disney DVDs on the shelf. There was “Live.Laugh.Love” decor on the walls. And there was me on the end of a Goodwill couch, staring at the floor while four girls spoke in tongues, and each of them interpreted for themself what God had said through them.

“Do you want us to teach you?” said the raven-haired girl.

“I’m good … Thank you, though.”

You could reach out, and touch the silence. All four girls stared at me like I had sprouted a second head.

“Well. I better go. It’s getting late.” It was 7:45 and I ran to my car.

So, I imagine someday I’ll ask God if he told me to go to that Bible Study. I don’t think he will respond then either. But it will be because he’s laughing.

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