Lost in Translation

When I was in college, I minored in Spanish.  This means that I can introduce myself, inquire for the ladies room, and read most baking directions in Spanish.  

I am by no means fluent.  Not in my wildest dreams.  

In fact, my lack of fluency is confirmed several times a week in my efforts to converse with my elderly Cuban neighbor, Ana.  

Just this week, for example, Ana pulled me aside and asked me, with a serious but compassionate look, if everything was ok in my marriage.   I was puzzled. 

Turns out I had told her earlier that my husband had left us to go spend the night with his parents.  I'm not sure how I misconveyed that information, but it's really my two-year-old who spent the night with my in-laws. The husband stayed right here where he belongs, and we remain happily married.  (So everyone can rest easy -- no need to call Dr. Phil just yet.) 

Although it's sometimes uncomfortable, it doesn't surprise me that Ana and I have an occasional conversational mix-up; her English is about as good as my Spanish, which means we rely on a lot of hand gestures and cut each other a lot of slack.   I have come to expect that we'll have a little snafu from time to time.  

But doesn't it often surprise us when we miscommunicate with those who look, act, and speak seemingly just like us?   Aren't we sometimes confused and hurt when things get lost in translation, even among people who are technically speaking the same language (and maybe even living under the same roof)?

The meant-to-be-funny email comes off as 'snippy' due to absence of facial expression. The simple request for a clean shirt sounds like a shrill demand because of Mom's exhaustion (hypothetically speaking, of course :-) ). The kind offer to take a neighbor's children to church seems nosy and pushy due to preconceived ideas of religion.

And Satan loves to tangle us up -- especially Christians with Christians -- just by causing us to misconstrue simple words and actions. Roommates quarrel. Friends become suspicious. Spouses stop believing the best.

It's hard to always love one another so well with our words that there is no room for suspicion and misunderstanding. It's hard to always lay our egos aside and not be the suspicious or easily offended ones.   It's hard to always love the glory of God more than we love ourselves.

Humans are touchy. We tend to thrive on approval, and our appetites are insatiable. Only until we can completely revel in the approval of the King of the Universe will we be free to find our significance in Him alone.   And then, whatever is lost in our less-pleasant interactions with others will pale in comparison to what we gain by seeing and savoring Christ.  

This is my prayer (this week at least) for my relationships:  that I may be so enraptured with the glory of God and His coming kingdom that I will forget myself and love Him and those around me with abandon.....that I will gladly lose my life in order to find it.  

May we live for and love the glory of God more each day.  And may we long for the day when Christ will return and make set all things right!

(And may you never accidentally tell your elderly Cuban neighbor that you took your husband to get neutered. True story. Oops! :-).)