In the language I can understand.

"Speak to me, Lord, in the language I can understand".

While I was growing up, that's one prayer my dad prayed, actually still prays, ever so often. Dutiful daughter I was, I picked it up and added it to my personal prayer
vocabulary.

Of course, when I became born-again, that sentence in all its 10-word glory made much more sense to me. From then on, I said it not as a grammatical and flowery addition to my prayers; it became the heart-felt desire of a soul hungry to hear God.

I, however, reserved it for those times I wanted to read the Bible or a Bible-based book. Those moments just before the preacher/speaker at any gathering mounted the podium. Those oh-too-frequent times I didn't know which exactly step to take.

As I read Max Lucado in "He Chose the Nails" (a book i STRONGLY recommend) the chapter titled "I Will Speak to You in Your Language" threw that sentence in a whole new light. After over a decade, the full import of what had almost become a casual mantra really sank in. And believe me, it packed quite a sucker punch- it hit real hard.

I've somehow, always expected God to speak in the vocal tones of my limited human language. My mind had already confined His expressions to those available in my dialect. Even while I said that prayer, the boundaries of my experience bordered the answer. As the words left my mouth, God who searches the heart and tries the reins must have been mildly amused at the mental pre-determined format in which I desired His responses, and my dogged insistence and refusal to even remotely consider the existence of alternative "languages" through which He speaks.

In my ignorant wisdom, as it were, God should be well versed in the idioms, proverbs and nuances of my language for me to understand. I never knew that to Him, speaking to me in the language I could understand goes beyond the boundaries of syntax and structure. I forgot that He who by causing confusion ironically created all human languages at Babel (Gen 11: 7-9) and understands even the chirping of the birds- He sure didn't speak Igbo, English, Hebrew, Aramaic or French when He commanded the ravens to feed Elijah (1 Kings 17:4) could speak my, your or any other language He desires.

Nevertheless, not one to be restricted by the fickleness of human experiences and the shallow imaginations which shape language with all its inadequacies, God moves beyond the realm of speech to the realm of events. He speaks, in Pastor Lucado's words, through the "day-to-day" drama of our individual lives. He reaches through the heavens down to the earth, through eternity into time to impress His Truth in our hearts in such a way that understanding is inevitable.

God articulates truth through the "Abjectness of Adversity". He is quite lucid in the "Language of Laughter". He bellows through the "Bounties of Blessings". He speaks through the "Solemn Silence of Sorrows". He whispers through the "Wintry Winds Weird events". He enunciates clearly through the "Erosion of Ecstasy". He resonates through the "Rhythm of Riches".
Through the "vernacular of want" and through eyes "Misted over by Misery", through "untold pains" and "un-worded wails", through "shared smiles" "corporate conquests" and "bitter betrayals", His intents ring out clearly. He always, always speaks in the language we can understand.

If only we could divest ourselves of preconceived notions and truly listen, we would hear Him. Better still, we would understand.

David must have also had a taste of this experience for him to say "the entrance of your Word gives light, and understanding to the simple". (Ps 119:130).
The word "entrance" presupposes barriers. Things put in place, by us and our environment which stop us from hearing God as He in His wisdom speaks in our own peculiar "language" that would communicate best to us per time. Steel doors on metal frames and rusty immovable hinges that bar God's Words from gaining entrance into our hearts.

As I caught this, I found myself praying.
But as I continued my study, my prayers changed three times within 90 minutes. First, I needed God to over look the door and just speak. Then, I asked Him to oil the hinges so the door would open smoothly and without a squeak. Finally, The Spirit made me understand- "Success, you don't need no doors". So I now pray, God don't just oil the hinges. Don't even stop at opening the door, though that would be mighty nice. God, please, remove the door and pluck away the frame. I'm now prepared to join my predecessors who listened, and understood and learnt. I'm eager to learn new "languages", no matter how difficult. I now say that structurally simple but profoundly meaningful prayer with a brand new heart and from a whole new perspective- I just know it's gonna be an awesome adventure with My Father. "Speak to me, Lord, in the language I can understand".

There's always room for one more person.
Would you care to join Us?