Module 2 - “Give Me Two Minutes of Tongues Right Now!”

My friend Jeff and I went to this big Christian conference. We felt like the Lord was “on it.”

Now, it’s always difficult to tell whether the Lord is “on it” or “in it.” “On it” usually relates to opportunity and excitement. It could be anything—from a date with a Latina on the welcome team to venture capital funding for your meat app idea.

“In it,” on the other hand… “in it” is more like “you might have diabetes.” If someone’s praying over you and they say, “Thank you, God, that You are in this situation,” you’ve got a bad situation, you probably need insulin.

It turns out, on this occasion, the Lord was not “on it” or “in it”—He was, in fact, nowhere near it.

Me and Jeff thought it would be a good idea. I mean, we were both single men—maybe God would help us find some BBL's (Beautiful Bible Ladies).

However, I’m still learning to discern between the Holy Spirit and horny spirit. They have a similar dialect. It’s almost as if they grew up in the same town and went to school together..

After a five-hour drive (plus stops to charge the car) we finally pulled up to the monolith: the maximum-security, prison-like building. It looked just as dull on the outside as it was on the inside.

There’s nothing that releases the joy of Heaven more than a grey auditorium, overpriced linguine, and more than a mile hike between the two. It’s almost as if the planners had assigned joylessness as a core value and built the entire setup around it.

“Wristbands up!” the security would command every morning in a tone that they believed we were undocumented migrants crossing a border.

It seemed even laughing itself had been banned—or at least frowned upon—greeted with toddler-like stares, as if it were everyone’s first introduction to the concept.

This would’ve all been fine if it were just a day trip—even a weekend. No. This was a five-day grind. Four sessions a day. Thirty minutes for lunch.

What had we signed up for?

Jeff and I discarded our hopes of meeting our wives as quickly as you discard liquids before going through airport security.

We took our seats and started the marathon.

The first guy that appeared on stage had the demeanour of someone in the running to present SAS: Who Dares Wins. You might have thought a greeting would be necessary to break the ice—nope.

With no introduction whatsoever, he shouts in an aggressive, drill-sergeant tone: “Give me two minutes of tongues right now!”

Everyone was startled.

“Right now!” he doubled down.

After a few seconds, people awkwardly started to speak out in their prayer language. Nobody dared be seen silent. I’m sure there were people there just faking it. I heard a lot of “Hakuna Matatas” and “boom shakalakas” in the air.

But hey—fake it till you make it, right? I got the gift of tongues by repeating the country “Burundi” over and over.

“Give me 20 more! Push! Push through! Are you guys even Christians!? PUSH!”

It was like Insanity for spirituality. Chrinsanity. I felt like I was in a charismatic spin class with a TK Maxx Tony Robbins barking orders at me. “I’m sick of a weak church who doesn't know how to pray!” I was waiting for him to start the sermon but he was only introducing the main speaker! He was just the hype man!

The next guy came up, the main-eventer —very serious, but less boot camp instructor, more wise, stoic chief with a beard well groomed. Again, very serious. Did I mention that already? He approached his message differently.

The first five minutes of his sermon were… well... silence.

We, the un-briefed audience, had to figure this out. Slowly, people started to catch on and pretended they’d been in intercessory prayer the whole time. Jeff had a viral cough and was ruining the silence, he should've probably gone to Urgent Care instead of the conference.

The theme of the guy's message was the light-hearted topic of: “we are nothing, and Jesus is everything.”

He particularly focused on the nothing part.

If you’re partial to feeling like a piece of s***, this was the message for you.

He then brought a keyboardist on stage to set up for the home-run alter call.

Every life-defining moment needs a keyboard pad accompaniment. It makes anything feel more spiritually heightened, I try to have pad accompaniment when asking housemates to take out the bins or discuss the cleaning rota, or even breaking up with someone.

I looked around, and people were already sobbing. It seemed like a competition—who could feel the worst about themselves? Who could be the most sorry? Whoever was the most teary and the most ashamed seemed to be winning.

“If you want to repent and give everything of yourself to Jesus, come to the front now.”

Many people ran forward. Mostly young people too.

Jeff and I drove home exhausted, overpriced linguine in the back seat.

We had some Jack Daniel’s and watched Doug’s 1st Movie, and laughed silly.

I think I met the Lord more in that moment than the whole conference.

The Balancing Act

I am obviously not saying reverence is wrong. It is important and necessary. We should be led by the fear of the Lord. As a wise man once said, “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (I think it was Bono).

However, reverence is not better than. Seriousness isn't more spiritual than un-seriousness. Reverence and joy are meant to live in tension together, to be integrated, not in separated.

Overplaying Joy

I am not naive that joy is just as capable of being overplayed—becoming an idol—as reverence is. There’s a risk of Churches being certain they have a 'joy culture' when, in fact, it’s just hyper, loud, obnoxious people who spend half their rent on Starbucks.

A 'joy culture' where God only seems to speak through silliness and spontaneity, whacky, outlandish things get put on a pedestal. It’s assumed that it’s only the Lord if it’s weird.

Suddenly you have 'joy culture' but have lost sight of the 'joy-giver'. A 'joy culture' where people become slaves to our own impulses, trying to force a “moment.” A 'joy culture' that ironically says 'freedom' is it's core value but is, ironically, rigid and formulaic—running the same playbook every week.

Believe me, I’m not interested in that either.

Ultimately, we need both.

You might have already worked out—that I have a bias. I lean towards joy. That doesn’t mean I don’t value both.

Maturity is discerning between emphasis and value.

If you want a perfectly balanced post, this isn’t it. Maybe you should read something like “The Reverence and Joy in Complete Balance Curriculum.”

I am an advocate, attorney, and ambassador for joy, I don't apologise for that. I’m sure reverence has a lawyer out there too, probably a dead boring guy named Clive or something who drives a Ford Mondeo estate. From what I can see, reverence hasn’t exactly lacked representation throughout Church history.

I think it’s time for joy reform.

Joy was never meant to be in the back seat whilst reverence drives.

We should be far less suspicious of a joyful Church than we are by a dead one.