Hearing Gobbledygook

Gobbledygook

Kneeling at the altar of Grace Lutheran Church in Show Low, Arizona, I listened as the minister moved from person to person, speaking gobbledygook. What am I doing here?

“Peggy,” our minister said over the phone several days before. “I’d like you to join our congregation for a special talk by Pastor Bill Vaswig.”

I drove one hour each way to hear this man talk about healing his son of paranoid schizophrenia. His lessons on healing through prayer fascinated me. Is it possible to heal someone through prayer? He explained how Agnes Sanford, a well-known spiritual Anglican healer, brought peace and wholeness to his paranoid schizophrenic son. Skeptical me thought about watching traveling tent revival meetings where strangers healed a person claiming to be blind amid clapping and stomping. Of course, those shows cannot be actual, but I felt desperate. I needed healing from the guilt I experienced in my life. So when our pastor called and asked me to attend the healing service, I went, not expecting anything.

I watched the minister travel from the right side of the altar, laying hands over the heads of each person kneeling. What is he doing? What language is he speaking? He is coming closer.

The minister placed his hands, palm down, over my head. He did not touch me. I bowed my head, and my ears heard gibberish. This is ridiculous. I do not understand anything he is saying. I should go home.

But then, with my eyes shut, a faint figure dressed in a long white robe slowly materialized. Spellbound, my mind’s eye saw an apparition of who I thought was Jesus, not hanging from a cross, but smiling and resurrected. His soft brown eyes sparkled as love and compassion filled my wary mind. Am I dreaming?

The apparition’s arms moved toward me; his hands reached down to the crest of my head. A spark ignited from his fingertip, sending heat like a steady breeze in the summer. The heat traveled from my ears, down my neck, into my chest.

Words spoken by the minister still sounded like nonsense, gibberish, gobbledygook, but I heard English.

“I will heal you and your son, but it will take time. You are forgiven.”

Confused yet peaceful, I returned to my place in the pew. What just happened? Did I make it up, or was it real? What do I do now?

“Go in peace.” The minister blessed our congregation. I stood, made my way to the door, and shook the minister’s hand.

As I drove home, a smile plastered on my face, I sang praises and songs. My soul felt free. What just happened?

We had arranged for my son to join the church group on a trip to North Carolina for summer Bible camp. My pastor called that morning.

“Peggy, please bring your boy to church early.”

When we arrived with his suitcase packed, my pastor spoke a while with him, then told me he would take my boy into the house to see Pastor Vaswig.

Please, Lord. Give my son the same freedom you gave to me.

The door banged open, and my son came barreling out with a massive smile on his face.

“Mom,” he shouted. “The man prayed with me. He put a force field around me to protect me. I’m gonna be okay.”

Yes, it took time and a lot of help from counseling services. However, the difficulties I had raising three rambunctious children, especially my hyperactive son, are gone. I learned to control my temper, not use corporal punishment, and pray every day for myself and each child. My son, now a father of six, has no trouble controlling his temper. He is a caring and loving husband and father. There is no sign of abuse.

As for gobbledygook, I now understand and have received several gifts of the spirit as needed. NIV 1 Corinthians 14:2 For anyone who speaks in a tongue does not speak to men but God. NIV 1 Corinthians 14:27 If anyone speaks in a tongue, two or at the most three — should speak, one at a time, and someone must interpret.

I speak in gobbledygook only when emersed in prayer and alone. I always know what I am saying. I listen to hear what God adds to the conversation.