The gift

I didn’t feel like going that evening. But something unexpected happened.

Not in the mood

It was Friday evening, and I had just finished a week of work in our company’s Shanghai office. Tired, and looking forward to getting back home to my family, I was sitting at the airport waiting to board my flight. It ended up being delayed by five hours, and by the time we finally took off it was already midnight. It was an unpleasant flight, during which I couldn’t get any sleep. When we arrived, my suitcase seemed never to appear on the luggage belt. When all other passengers had already left, and just as I was about to ask a staff member, it finally came through — as the last one to make it onto the belt. One of those days.

When I got home around half seven in the morning, Paulina told me there was going to be a healing Mass that evening and asked if I wanted to go. (Every Mass is a healing Mass, but after this one there would be prayer by a priest well known in Catholic charismatic circles.)

I was really tired and just wanted to unwind after the week abroad. I considered suggesting we go another time, but looking at Paulina, who was clearly keen to go, I said yes. That evening, we went to church.

After Mass, the facilitators invited those who wanted to be prayed over to come forward and line up. Paulina did. I remained seated, feeling even more tired than I had that morning. I also felt disconnected and far away from God. I had worked long days all week and had barely paid attention to him.

I thought about getting up but I didn’t.

Then I felt something unexpected. It was like a stream of bubbles moving from my waist to my heart. It startled me. I had never felt anything like it before, and it made me stand up. The moment I stood, the sensation was gone. Since I was standing anyway, I thought I might as well join the queue.

It was crowded, and the line was long. I was near the end and assumed it would take a long time. But after only a few minutes, the facilitators rearranged the queues. I was guided to the front of the church, where a new line was formed, and suddenly I was third.

Not long after, one of the facilitators turned to me and asked what I wanted them to pray for. Caught off guard, I didn’t know what to say. I thought of asking him to pray for Naomi’s healing, but before I had gathered my thoughts, I blurted out: “So that I can be closer to God.”

“Ah, very good,” he said.

He raised his hands above my head, closed his eyes, and began to pray.

I felt disappointed with myself. That wasn’t what I had meant to say. I hadn’t even finished thinking. But it was too late. He and two others were already praying, and I didn’t want to interrupt. So I stood there, being prayed over, wondering why I had said something I hadn’t intended. It wasn’t even a full sentence.

When they finished, I thanked them and walked back to my seat.

Moved by the Spirit

Most people, including Paulina, were still in line, and the seats around me were empty. I looked over at the choir, who had been singing all along, though I hadn’t really listened. Now I did. After a moment, I began to sing along softly.

Then something highly unusual happened.

My tongue started moving on its own. Rapidly. Sounds came out — nananana, lalalala — without any effort on my part. It went on for a long time, perhaps fifteen minutes. I didn’t run out of breath. It was effortless.

At some point, the sheer oddness of it made me chuckle, and the sounds became mixed with my own, until it all started to feel rather awkward. I had been sitting with my head down. When I became self-aware, I glanced around to see whether anyone nearby had noticed, but I was still alone.

Then my tongue stopped moving and it was quiet.

I had received what is known as the gift of tongues, which allows the Holy Spirit to pray within us when we cannot find the words ourselves. I felt grateful, and that sense of disconnect with God was gone. I had created a distance, but God was as close as ever.

Only later that evening, back at home, did it occur to me what had happened. So often, I had come to God with one thing in mind: Naomi’s healing. That evening, without intending to, I had asked for something else.

I remembered Jesus’ words about seeking the kingdom first — not outcomes or answers, but God himself. It was a reminder that God already knows what we need, and that I don’t need to spell it out to him. Instead, I can trust God, let his Spirit act in me, and take each day as it comes, confident in his providence.

My unintended prayer request was exactly what I should have asked for.

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Next: The impossible