Speed Zone

Often in past years, when I've spoken to adults, it's been through a translator, either in our Chinese congregation in Houston or summers in Vietnam when I preach. In the above picture, I am teaching children in a Christian orphanage in Hunan Province, China aided by my interpreter for the summer, Lavender. The following, from March 25, 2010, is about an odd side effect to being interpreted into another language!

For the past eight years, I've been in charge of the communion service each Sunday in our Chinese worship service. After a passage of Scripture is read, I share some devotional thoughts about the meaning of our celebrating the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. I lead our group in prayer for the bread and cup and we partake of the Lord's Supper. Something happened this past Sunday morning that caught me off guard. At the end of each sentence in my remarks and in my prayers, I caught myself pausing. There was a reason. Every word I've spoken to my Asian brothers and sisters over the years has been translated from English to Chinese. On Sunday, though, a number of our Mandarin speaking members whose English skills are not advanced were absent. James, one of our Chinese brothers, suggested that we did not need to translate my thoughts as everyone present was fluent in English. And so, for the first time, my words were only heard in my native tongue.

It takes time to become accustomed to being translated into another language. I've had that privilege in both Chinese and Spanish. I can comprehend some things in Espanol but nothing in Chinese. Sometimes, I kid my Chinese interpreter, Yirong Gu, that he messed up in a few places and he always tolerates my attempts at humor. Truthfully, though, the speaker is at the mercy of the translator. At times with a new translator, I'm not sure whether he is finished with my sentence or if he is fishing for a word to complete the thought. So sometimes I begin my next profound sentiment too quickly. This is what I discovered about myself last Sunday: I found the presence of an interpreter causes me to stop and think about what I'm going to say next. I never blurt out words I regret when I am being channeled into another vernacular because my pauses act as a filter. James, chapter 1, tells me that I should be slow to speak (verse 19) and that I should keep a tight rein on my tongue (verse 26). Maybe it's just easier when I speak to people who can't understand me. If only I could afford a full-time interpreter- I'm sure my life would be simpler.

Applicable quote of the day:
''Jesus Christ is our supreme commander, but He operates only through His word, which is unquestionably a training manual. However, He has many interpreters, and few people see the Bible as a true training manual.''

Gary North

God bless,
Steve
Luke 18:1

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