Missionary Moments: Listening in Tongues
Stories of a Catholic youth worker
This "missionary moment" happened about four months into my mission trip to the Philippines. I accompanied a fellow youth worker to a university campus in Manila where she was—almost singlehandedly—conducting a 7-week long basic Christian seminar for a small group of university students.
This week, my friend and colleague had asked me a share a testimony about a time I had experienced God's love. My testimony would be preceded by a short talk delivered by my friend on the topic. But there was the catch: this particular group of students was more comfortable in Filipino than in English. And I had so far picked up only rudimentary Filipino, not enough to even follow simple conversations in the language.
Nevertheless, I leaned in and listened. I listened hard as my friend delivered her talk mostly in Filipino. And then I listened hard as the students got to share their personal experiences and questions—also in Filipino. And then finally, my friend introduced me and asked me to share my story.
So I spoke. Using English, and my hands. (No, this is not a story about how I miraculously spoke fluent Filipino.) But as I was speaking, something else happened. I began relating my testimony to the personal experiences shared by the students just moments before. "I felt lonely as a teenager, just liked you shared," I said, smiling at one of the students. "I had so many questions about my faith," I said, catching the eye of another student who had also shared about having doubts.
In the moment, I didn't think much of it, except to note that the students seemed to respond well to my testimony. But later on, after we had left the university and started our two-hour long commute home, my colleague turned to me and said, "Krysanne, how were you able to relate your testimony to the students' own experiences? They had shared their experiences in Filipino!"
I was surprised. Had they really? Surely they must have spoken in English... I don't even know Filipino! But my colleague insisted that the entire group discussion had taken place in Filipino. Dumbstruck, I spent the rest of the bus ride ruminating... Was it their body language? Was it the occasional English words they used, that helped me follow along? Was it all of that... AND the Holy Spirit? Had I, somehow, been given the power to... listen in tongues?
I don't have an explanation for this experience, and probably never will. What I do know is that, in that moment, faced by a language barrier I could not overcome on my own, God intervened. This is a common theme in the stories of many missionaries, and in fact a lesson God never tires of teaching us:
We do not have to have it all figured out. We just have to be willing to say "yes".
As I prepare for the next leg of my journey as a missionary—venturing to the US for grad school—these experiences comfort me and remind me that, no matter how unprepared I might be, God is in control.
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And stay tuned for more Missionary Moments!