Translations

I’m starting to realize that I’ve become quite the translator.

I’ve always had a pretty good command of the English language. (Started talking in full sentences early and have hardly stopped for breath since.) I can do just a teeny bit of conversational Spanish and about three sentences of Haitian Creole.

But the older I get, the more I realize how many versions of English there are. And how quickly and unknowingly I absorb them.

If I spend enough time around someone with an accent I tend to pick it up. I came home from college in Alabama saying ‘fahn’ instead of fine and ‘tahm’ instead of time. Had a couple British kids stay with me for a two weeks years ago. And after spending all day with them for several days, I was speaking with their rhythm and cadence.

But even beyond accents and dialects, over the years I’ve become quite adept at the different languages (though all English) spoken by way of personality, family culture, work culture and even faith tradition.

The exact same words can mean totally different things. The exact same tone can mean totally different things. And the spirit in which a message is delivered can be received with an entirely different meaning.

And what we have here is a failure to communicate.

I’ve watched my family interact with each other and can tell exactly how something was said, know exactly what was meant, then how it was heard, what meaning was assigned to it and how it resulted in misunderstanding.

Maybe it’s one of the bright sides of my codependency.

I was asking something of someone I work with on occasion and was poring over the right words and phrases to use. I ended up with a masterpiece of an email. Brad had watched me spend all that time writing a simple request and asked why I had worked so hard on it.

I looked at him and grinned, “Because it’ll work.”

Because there was a better chance of me getting what I needed if I took the time to ask in HER language.

My nephew’s teacher posted a picture of him preparing to take a dreaded standardized test. She had calmly and gently said, “Now Noah, I want you to take your time and do your best. You can do this.”

No way.

She knows that kid so she told him to ‘take that test DOWN!’

His mom replied beneath her post, #whenyourwildchildsteacherspeakshislanguage #imsothankful.

I am too. And if I ever meet that teacher, I’m going to hug her neck. She gets it.

Now, to be sure, this takes a lot more time and energy. But if you know and love the other person and you are wanting a specific result, it’s worth it.

I was discussing this translating phenomenon with a pastor one time. And he asked a good question.

“Okay, so whose responsibility is it to do the translating? The speaker or the hearer.”

And without thinking, I shrugged and said, “Whichever one YOU are.”

His eyes widened and I realized the gravity of what I had said. It’s MY job as the giver OR the receiver of communication to know the other party and apply the right filter in order to connect.

Gary Chapman nails this in his revolutionary book, The Five Love Languages. A wife can think her husband doesn’t love her because he never says it. But he’s been demonstrating his love for her for years by serving her. He may think she doesn’t love him because she rarely does anything for him and yet she tells him she loves him all the time.

They’re speaking different languages. And if you want to make sure your loved ones KNOW they are loved, you must speak THEIR language.

Jesus knows the hearts and minds of all people so He could do this easily when He was here on earth. However, as the one-third of the trinity, the King of the Universe, He would have been well within His rights to speak however He wanted and demand that other people do the work of understanding.

But He didn’t. He spoke THEIR language. Because His goal wasn’t to be right. His goal was to connect.

So He told stories, which was the communication medium of the day.

He didn’t just say, “Be generous.” He told a story about a poor widow who gave her last coin as an offering to God.

He didn’t just say, “Be persistent in prayer.” He told a story about a woman demanding justice from an unjust judge in the middle of the night.

He didn’t just say, “No matter what you’ve done, you can always turn back to your Heavenly Father and He will forgive you, accept you and keeping loving you.” He told the story of a spoiled son who blew all of his inheritance on wild living, had the guts to come home in defeat and his father greeted him with a huge hug and insisted on a great feast to celebrate his return.

He did it with His disciples too. In Matthew 16, Jesus is predicting His death to His friends. Peter doesn’t like the sound of that and he says, “Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you!”

Now if tender-hearted John had protested, Jesus might have responded gently with, “It’s okay, John. I know what I’m doing. This has to happen and you must trust Me.”

But this was Peter. He was bold, brash and impetuous. So Jesus spoke HIS language, “Get behind Me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to Me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns” (v. 23).

A little harsh? Definitely. But did Peter get the message? Absolutely.

In Paul’s letters to the different churches, you can see how he adjusts his message and his delivery based one their circumstances. When he preached to the Jews, he used phrases and examples they were familiar with. When he preached to the Greeks (even though he was raised in the Jewish culture), he would use words and analogies THEY were familiar with.

Because his motive wasn’t just to preach the gospel to check it off his list so he could say that he obeyed God. His motive was to bring people to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ and to win souls for the Kingdom.

There is one time in our lives when translating is not necessary: when we pray.

God knows our hearts, our thoughts, the personalities He created us with. There is no need to filter, try to come up with impressive words or phrases. This is the one instance when you can just pour your heart out, puke your guts out and just say whatever you need to say. He can handle it.

But as we deal with each other in our flawed, selfish flesh, we must work a little harder. We must learn each other’s languages and speak them as best we can to get our message across.

A lot more work? Definitely. But worth it?

Absolutely.