The Bridge that Unites Us
“No, Mom,” my son whispered. “They’re asking if we’d like to go to a late breakfast with them.”
I sighed audibly, smiled, and nodded. The lightbulb of understanding was finally on.
After several minutes of trying to decipher what the Spanish-speaking couple was asking me, my son had come to my rescue and translated the conversation into English. It was just one of several times when I was two steps behind at our new church.
Although I earned A’s in Spanish, it was never my favorite class in high school. It wasn’t a subject I had an aptitude for, and I didn’t have many opportunities to talk to native Spanish speakers. When I did, I shied away from it, not confident in my language acquisition.
In college, to receive my Bachelor of Arts, I had to meet a language requirement. I was interested in Greek, but I knew it would be difficult for me. I already had a massive workload in my major courses. So instead, I took the easy way: Beginner Spanish.
“You could go to the advanced class with your knowledge from high school,” my professor said.
I smiled, embarrassed, and suggested slyly, “But think how helpful I’ll be to other beginner students in your class.”
And thus ended was the short history of my Spanish language acquisition. After that college class was complete, my knowledge of the Spanish language lay dormant again for many years.
When my son turned three years old, my husband and I started the search for a preschool. After several tours, we found a school we loved. The school’s play-based educational philosophy lined up with our own, and as a bonus, they were a language immersion school. We chose our son’s target language: Spanish.
Two years of Spanish language immersion school made my son quite the Spanish speaker. Unlike me, he was confident when speaking Spanish and had a tremendous native-sounding accent. We were so happy with his progress and looked forward to our daughter joining him full-time.
But then we moved.
I was at a loss. There were no schools in our new area like his previous Spanish immersion school. What would happen to the Spanish he had acquired? How could he continue his language acquisition without being around native Spanish speakers?
Then the answer came to me: We would attend a Spanish-speaking church.
I knew people, especially those we’d just met in our new community, thought we were crazy. They had plenty of arguments:
- “We live in America. Why do you want your kids to speak another language?”
- “Don’t you think your kids will be spiritually confused by learning about the Bible in another language?”
- “A church service isn’t much time for your children to be in the language. They’ll probably lose the Spanish they already have anyway.”
I didn’t feel like we needed to justify our decision to them. We felt sure that God was leading us to attend the Spanish-speaking church for this time and in this place. The idea of going to a Spanish-speaking church may have been sparked by wanting our kids to continue their exposure to Spanish, but we knew from our first visit, when we were warmly embraced, that the blessings would be more than my family could count.
What I didn’t expect, though, was my own spiritual (and language) growth.
Seeing God’s Word Differently
First, I started to see God’s Word differently. Early Sunday mornings found me hunched over my desk, a Spanish-English translator on my computer screen as I reread the lesson for Sunday school. Deeper significance called to me as I read through the Spanish translation of familiar English verses. Why did they use that particular word? I wondered. I found myself immersed in the original Greek or Hebrew, looking up the word families and other verses where the word was found.
Martin Luther is attributed to have said, “Printing is the ultimate gift of God and the greatest one.” The history lessons of the printing press and Luther’s 95 Theses seem more significant to me. I’m grateful for the people who have translated the Bible into unfamiliar tongues all over the world so that people can read God’s Word themselves.
God Knows What I Don’t Understand
Second, although I am learning, I am still far from understanding a lot of what goes on during service and even in one-on-one conversations with church members. I must rely on the Holy Spirit, that small prick inside, to know how to react. Language is a barrier, but I can still connect with others when I don’t understand. I can sense when my sister in Christ needs prayer or when something the pastor said was significant.
Even when I don’t have the words, I am confident that God in heaven knows the situation and will give me understanding if needed.
A United Church
Third, I am reminded of what a united church looks like. Even if my children don’t grow in their Spanish language ability, this time at church is valuable. It would be easier to stay in an English-speaking church culture; however, as we get to know Spanish-speaking church members, we find bridges that unite us. History books describe the United States as a melting pot of stories, cultures, and languages. What are we teaching our children about God’s plan of redemption if we only have people who look and talk like us in our circles of influence?
Going to a Spanish-speaking church is uncomfortable. I make mistakes. I don’t use the correct Spanish words. It’s hard to sit with others and not be able to communicate my full thoughts. However, if my kids can see this in their parents—if they can see different cultures coming together to worship Christ—then perhaps they see a glimpse of heaven. Heaven will be filled with people from every culture and language. Learning how to pursue relationships in spite of cultural barriers is a gift. My parents gave this to me when they pursued a friendship with immigrants from the Ukraine, and I grew up hearing Russian and eating borscht.
Ultimately, I want my children to know that the most significant bridge that unites us is Christ. Christ died for my Spanish-speaking brother and sister, just like he died for me. And as we all strive to pursue our relationship with our Savior, I am blessed and challenged by how our church portrays the gospel through their hospitality and generosity.
I love the image in Revelation 7:9 and 10:
After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” (ESV)
My pastor says it’s good that my family is learning Spanish. He says that when we are united with one language, praising God in heaven, it will probably be in Spanish.
He’s joking, but I am glad, too.
I tell our acquaintances who question our decision the same thing now: I don’t know how long we will go to a Spanish-speaking church, or how God will use my children’s language learning in the future, but our family will be obedient to where God wants us to engage in worship and fellowship.
is a wife, mother, and self-appointed adventure curator. As a lifelong learner, she enjoys exploring the Midwest where she lives and painting her experience of motherhood with words.
Photograph © Dahiana Wahzaj, used with permission
