When the Spirit's Language Becomes a Stumbling Block

Tongues, Interpretation, and the Greater Gift of Building Up the Body

Jun 25, 2026

Good morning, and hello friends.

Today’s article was partly inspired by a note I saw from a fellow writer on Substack. Regardless of whether you have the gift or not, there is a healthy exercise in the article that we can all benefit from.

She shared an article titled “Are We Using Tongues to Avoid Talking to God?” and posed a simple, piercing challenge: can you praise Jesus in your native language for longer than two minutes? It struck a chord. It connected to a tension I’ve carried for a while, one I need to speak into today. I want to talk about something that makes many believers uncomfortable: the gift of tongues. Specifically, the fine line where a gift from the Most High can, in practice, become a stumbling block. Where edification for one can feel like alienation for another. Where the Spirit’s language can, in the wrong context, sound like a spell.

I don’t “think” I have ever spoken in tongues. I put “think” in quotes for a reason. On the night Yahuah revealed Himself to me for the first time, I fell to my knees, face to the floor. I prayed with an intensity I’d never known. It was a direct line from my heart to His. The edification that followed was a brand on my soul. Later, I grabbed my journal, desperate to capture it. The words I wrote were pathetic shadows. I had transmitted my entire life in three syllables, but my human language failed. I was alone. No one could tell me if what poured out was glossolalia…a heavenly language…or just the raw groanings of a spirit undone.

I’ve had a few more episodes like it since. Always alone. So I can’t confirm it.

Here’s my tension, and confession: the quickest way to lose my attention is for someone to break into tongues mid-message. Sermon, speech, lesson, once the words become indistinguishable, I tune out. My heart posture shifts to covert rejection. I don’t make a scene. I simply withdraw.

My justification is simple: if Yahuah wanted me to understand, to receive what was being said, He would have it delivered in a manner I could understand. The apostle Paul was crystal clear in 1 Corinthians 14. This chapter isn’t a suggestion; it’s a manual for order in worship, for the building up of the body. He writes, “If any speak in a tongue, let there be only two or at most three, and each in turn, and let someone interpret. But if there is no one to interpret, let each of them keep silent in church and speak to himself and to God.” (1 Corinthians 14:27-28). The purpose is stated plainly: “Since you are eager for manifestations of the Spirit, strive to excel in building up the church.” (1 Corinthians 14:12).

When one speaks in a tongue without interpretation in a gathering, who is being built up? The speaker may feel a profound, personal edification. I do not doubt that. But for the listener, it can feel like noise. At best, it’s a distraction. At worst, it becomes a barrier…a wall of sound between them and the Word. In a room full of seekers, skeptics, or young believers, it can feel like insider code, a performative display that separates the “spiritual” from the rest. It creates a caste system in the pews, and that should grieve us.

This is where it can edge toward something wicked. Not in intent, perhaps, but in effect. The enemy seeks to divide, to confuse, to elevate self over service. An uninterpreted public display, however sincere…can play right into that hand. It can turn a gift meant for building up into a tool for isolation. It becomes about the personal experience of the one, not the edification of the many. It risks becoming spiritual performance art.

This connects to that challenge: can you praise Jesus in your native language for longer than two minutes? If we cannot, what does that say about the depth of our relationship? Are we using a spiritual gift as a shortcut, a substitute for the harder, more vulnerable work of articulating our love, our need, our repentance, our awe in words we…and others can understand? Tongues can become a hiding place. A place to feel spiritual without having to be vulnerable, without having to craft a prayer of thanksgiving or confession that costs us something.

The true gift, I believe, is clarity. The Spirit’s primary work is to reveal Yahusha, not to obscure Him behind a veil of impenetrable mystery. “For God is not a God of confusion but of peace.” (1 Corinthians 14:33). If a message is for the body, the Spirit will provide the understanding. If it is private, between a person and God, it belongs in the closet, like my own uncertain experiences. Out in the open, our chief concern must be love, and “love builds up.” (1 Corinthians 8:1).

So, I am not against the gift. I am for the body. I am for the stranger in the back who needs the clarity of the Gospel, not confusion. I am for the young believer who needs doctrine they can grasp, not ecstatic experience they cannot. I am for the unity that comes when we speak not to showcase our spirituality, but to serve each other in love. Let all things be done decently and in order. Let all things be done for building up.

Otherwise, we risk speaking not in the Spirit’s language, but in a spell of our own making a spell of exclusivity, of confusion, of self-focused spirituality that forgets the stranger in our midst. The challenge stands. Let us strive to excel in building up the church, starting with the profound, difficult, and glorious work of praising our Savior in words we all can share.

Walk in the light you’ve been given.

That is all, and thank you for reading.

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