Those Days When You Feel Like The Little Mermaid

I love our language teacher. I love how she teaches, what she teaches, and I feel like our time together is worth it. Lately she’s even been helping my language abilities by engaging me in philosophical and controversial conversations. We’ve gone over the war in Iraq, abortion, same-sex marriages, and other hot topics.
Today she brought up how she doesn’t think it’s right for parents to prohibit bad behavior for fear that it will put the idea in their children’s minds to do it. She said one of her friends worked in a private Christian school and shared with her that the kids who attended that school were worse than those in regular schools. She said kids there did things they shouldn’t because they were told they couldn’t. On the other hand, kids who were never told not to do something, didn’t. She asked if my mom ever told me I wasn’t allowed to kill others. When I answered in the affirmative she asked, “Why? Did your mom think you were going to kill people if she didn’t tell you that? And if you would have killed people, would that have stopped you?”
Though her view has a hint of logic, it most certainly falls apart under only a little bit of scrutiny. The first thing that comes to mind is simply how whether you say something out loud or you don’t, you’re still saying something. Every reaction, every look, every gasp communicates how you feel about the world, and children can form their worldview based on those tiny expressions alone. Just because she never told her son not to kill doesn’t mean the idea wasn’t expressed in her family.
Secondly, this argument must answer the question of absolute truth. Who says killing is wrong in the first place? Who says it’s not normal to kill someone? Modern society? What if my society thinks your society is wrong? And of course we could have talked about the nature of human beings in general, and how without any sort of expressed standards of morality we would have a big mess on our hands.
And since I had some of these thoughts, I told her, “No…I think…not…God says…Bible…parents…anyway…yes…no…understand?” Okay, so I was probably a little more coherent than that, but I was so frustrated at not being able to communicate my thoughts. I had them, but I couldn’t share them.
From personal experience, I know that when someone doesn’t communicate well, we tend to—not intentionally, mind you—think that the person is not very intelligent. It’s the difference between, “I want go eat food, yes?” versus “Hey, let’s go grab a bite to eat.” I’ve often found myself caught off guard when I hear a foreigner who doesn’t speak English well talk with someone who speaks his same language. All of a sudden, even though I can’t understand them, they sound like they do in fact know something. They sound like an adult and not like a child.
Here, I often have to remind myself that I do actually know a language, and know it well. Sometimes during these serious conversations I just want to shout, “I know things! I have a voice! I’m not an idiot!” And this feeling is further exacerbated when the discussion has to do with eternally important things: If only I could tell you what God says about that. If only you could understand how much God has done for you. If only you could understand how and why sin separates us from Him.
So I left my language class a little depressed. I was down because I realized that no matter how long I live here, I will never be able to speak Russian like a Russian. Even if I continue to progress and learn to speak very well, I will never have a command of another language like I do my native English. Having that thought made me feel trapped. It made me feel like no matter what I do here, my voice will always be stifled. Like in order to be here I had to give up my voice. Poor unfortunate soul.
But as I prayed some I started thinking about about what my teammate David brought up this last Sunday when we met together. As we discussed and prayed about our new church plant effort, he said that we could really relate to what Paul said about the beginning of his relationship with the church in Corinth:
When I came to you, I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling. My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power (1st Cor. 1:1-5).
Every word in that passage is talking to me. I most definitely do not have eloquent speech, and because of my speaking ability it is very difficult to appear like I have any sort of wisdom. I suppose that all this frustrates me so badly because I feel like I have something to offer, that I have wisdom to share. But Paul reminds me that it’s not about me, my wisdom, or my eloquence, it’s about God’s power. And because what I communicate won’t be with wise or persuasive words, I can know that the faith of the people here will rest on God’s power, not mine. And that’s a good thing.
This is good news for every one of us. We don’t need to worry about knowing all the right things to say, we just need to proclaim Jesus Christ and him crucified. We need to know that while we may be scared to death and our voice may be trembling as we share with someone what Jesus did for this world, it is actually during these times that faith in God is put in its right place. I wish I could speak the language here as fluently as a native, but I can’t, and so now I will sit back and watch God’s power be made perfect in my weakness. And I would invite every one of you to try and do the same.




