I used to have a gentleman’s agreement with the devil; I’ld stay out of your business so you stay out of mine. Whilst the trouble-seeking Christian sings about trampling on you, I’ld whistle and look the other way. When the rebellious prayer warrior asked us to clap as if we’re slapping you, I’ld just pocket and say the Lord’s Prayer. I’ld break no bottles, curse you not or address you directly, I would just talk to God about Him and me. In exchange, don’t get funny ideas with or for me. Don’t set your gaze on me or mine…and we’ld be fine.

Those were the days. I didn’t understand why praying meant hunching your back, making funny facial and hand gestures and shpicking the engrish in a shertain kindsha waayy! With a certain characteristic huskiness in the voish. Are you wish me shambady? Like bro, take a chill pill. Why’re you going on to provoke someone who hasn’t done anything to you personally? What if he responds and thinks I’m in on it with you? lol. Those were the days. I realise now how you…ummn ‘lose yourself’ as you get deeper. The audacity that empowers you to take on things that frightened you, the realisation that you cant broker peace with the one whose thirst is only quenched by your spiritual demise.

I also used to wonder about those strange things ‘some way’ people say in prayer. People who couldn’t commit to studying latin and hence concocted a punch of syllables in their mind, spoke it and called it tongues. Why not just speak plain language? Why must you try to do something to make it look like you’re better than the rest of us? Will the rest of us miss the mark because we cant sound funny? Those were the days. Read More I’m Bilingual; I Speak English and Tongues!

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