Serah. Shuru:A Story of Waiting, Pride, and the Gift That Came When I Stopped Trying

 

A friend's mum recently shared a concern with me. She was worried that her daughter was not speaking in tongues and longed for so much more for her spiritually. She asked if we could pray together about it.

As she poured out her heart, I smiled and listened attentively. I assured her not to worry and told her that I believed it would happen in God's own time because her daughter truly loved Him.

As I spoke those words, I realised that my confidence came not from theological certainty, but from my own journey. This is simply my story—one testimony among many. I share it not to prescribe a single path, but to encourage anyone who may be waiting on God or feeling discouraged. I recognise that faithful Christians from different traditions hold different views on speaking in tongues, and I honour that. But my story is what I know.

So, to encourage her, I decided to share my own journey.

It All Began at University

As a child, I knew about the Holy Spirit, but not in the way I know and relate with Him today.

During one of my mid-semester breaks from university, I started hearing stories about my childhood friend, Reuben. People said he had begun praying for others to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and speak in tongues. There was a strong anointing upon him, and remarkable things were happening.

Back then, this was not a common topic in many ECWA (Evangelical Church of West Africa) settings. However, the church I attended (ECWA Rockhaven Chapel) was fairly open and encouraged young people to grow and express themselves.

One Sunday, Reuben was given a few minutes to preach about the gift of the Holy Spirit. Afterwards, he invited anyone who desired prayer to stand or raise their hands.

I remained firmly seated.

In my mind, I thought, "This is my guy. If he can pray, I can pray for myself; no need to stand up joor."

Looking back now, I recognise that attitude for what it truly was—spiritual pride. I had done what Nigerians call "see finish"—disrespect that comes through over-familiarity. I despised his age and believed I could do for myself what God wanted to give me through him.

To make matters worse, some students from a fellowship at school had made the whole issue rather unappealing to me. They strongly implied that if you did not speak in tongues, you were either not a true Christian or your Christianity was incomplete.

That bothered me deeply.

At the time, I could not speak in tongues, but I knew beyond doubt that I loved God and belonged to Him.

Whenever those conversations came up, I would challenge them with Scripture. Often, they would quote what their pastor had said, and I would respond by asking, "But what does the Bible say?"

I reminded them that the fruit of the Spirit is evidence of both God's work and His presence in a believer's life.

A Conversation That Changed My Perspective

When I returned home for our mid-semester break, my mom’s friend, 'Brother Leo,' came to visit. He worked with CAPRO (a missions organisation) and was someone I deeply respected as he was well-rounded in scripture.

I wasted no time asking him about the issue.

He asked me whether I had carefully studied Corinthians and the various expressions of the Holy Spirit.

Together, we opened the Scriptures, and from there, I learnt the difference between speaking in tongues, the gift of tongues, and the fruit of the Spirit.

Following our study, he asked me, "If someone has the gift of teaching but does not prophesy, does that mean they don't have the Holy Spirit?"

"Of course not," I replied.

His point became very clear.

The Holy Spirit distributes different gifts differently. Not everyone will manifest every gift, but every believer can display evidence of His work.

For the first time in my life, I recognised that encouragement—a gift that came naturally to me—could itself be a gift of the Spirit.

Years of Waiting

Years passed.

I was still "tongueless."

Initially, it didn't bother me much. But then I would attend services where ministers would invite those who could not speak in tongues to come forward for prayer. I have never been good at pretending, especially in matters concerning God. So if it wasn't coming, it simply wasn't coming.

Jeje.

One particular service remains unforgettable.

The minister prayed for everyone and then began saying, "Speak! Speak!"

Around me, people started praying in tongues.

Meanwhile...

Serah.

Shuru (No sound).

The microphone was moving from person to person.

As it drew closer, I whispered one of the most sincere prayers of my life:

"Father, na beg I dey beg. Please don't let Your child suffer shame o! Help me say something. The mic is coming close o!"

My people...

The microphone passed.

Still...

Serah.

Shuru.

Eventually, the preacher ended with a general prayer, and we all returned to our seats.

After the service, I went to meet him privately and asked what was wrong with me.

He laughed kindly and told me not to worry.

"The gift has already been deposited," he said. "You're simply overthinking it. You're trying to analyse everything instead of just opening your mouth in faith."

That was the end of our conversation, but the years continued to pass. I genuinely desired the gift. I had read Scripture, asked God for it, and waited. I celebrated when close friends received it suddenly—one after a frightening experience, another during a quiet prayer meeting—but my own experience remained unchanged.

By the time I graduated from university, I still could not speak in tongues. It had been about three years since I had rejected Reuben's prayers.

The Conviction I Could Not Ignore

One day, while reflecting on everything, my mind went back to that church service years earlier when I had silently despised the grace God was using through my friend Reuben.

I became convinced that God was dealing with the pride in my own heart. I had done "see finish" on a vessel God wanted to use. I had rejected the very channel He had sent to help me—trying to control how and through whom He would bless me.

So I repented and asked for forgiveness. But looking back now, I realise the waiting wasn't punishment. It was preparation. God wasn't withholding to shame me; He was purifying my heart so that when the gift came, I wouldn't use it to measure myself against others, but simply to love Him more.

By this time, I had begun speaking in tongues—but only just. I could mumble the same few syllables over and over. There was no fluency, no richness, just a halting repetition.

Later that year, Reuben happened to visit our home. While chatting in the kitchen, I narrated my journey to him—how I had rejected his prayers, how I struggled for years, and how I felt my arrogance had delayed me. I apologised for my pride and for despising his anointing.

He barely remembered the incident. We both laughed.

He went on to share some profound truths about forgiveness that have stayed with me ever since. Before he left, he prayed over our entire family, simply committing us to God's care.

Learning the Language of the Spirit

Even after that visit, my tongues remained limited. I continued speaking, but with little fluency. I would often jokingly tell God, "Please give me mine like a song." Because I love singing, I thought that would be the perfect expression. But that wasn't how it happened.

My contentment shifted to holy hunger one year when our pastor invited Apostle Michael Orokpo to minister at our church. His message was amazing, but his speaking in tongues was on another level—something I had never heard before. Just listening to him gave me chills. My husband and I discussed it after church, both of us spellbound. It sounded like Aramaic or Hebrew, yet with a heavenly cadence that stirred a deep longing in me. After service, I asked the Holy Spirit again for that type of tongues—and not to forget the singing one, either. (That still hasn't happened.)

Still, I continued with what He had already given me. I made it a habit to talk to the Holy Spirit about everything in life: ministry, work, relationships—and yes, even sex. He became my closest confidant.

Then one day, mid-conversation with Him, a thought suddenly crystallized in my mind: If tongues are the language of the Spirit, then languages can be learned. Someone who isn't born speaking French can study it and become fluent—provided they have a teacher or tutor to guide them. So why couldn't my prayer language grow? I simply looked up and whispered, "Holy Spirit, since You are my Teacher, teach me Your language. Add more words to my vocabulary. Enroll me in Your school."

Nothing dramatic happened immediately. Life simply continued. But every now and then, I found myself speaking words I had never spoken before.

Then one year, during our annual fast, something happened.

As I prayed, words began pouring out uncontrollably. I was saying things I had never heard before—guttural, rhythmic, foreign sounds that felt both alien and completely natural. They came so fast I felt breathless, almost choking, like my spirit was trying to outpace my lungs. Honestly, if someone had been standing outside my room, they might have thought a chicken had invaded the house.

I was thrilled.

Later that evening, while trying to explain the experience to my sister, she suddenly interrupted me.

"You started sounding like a chicken."

My eyes widened.

"Exactly!"

She laughed and shared that she had experienced something remarkably similar—including the feeling of almost choking because the words kept pouring out so rapidly. At that moment, I felt deeply reassured.

I wasn't alone.

Today, my tongues still don't sound like Apostle Michael Orokpo's. They don't sound like a song either. But they are mine. My vocabulary has grown, my words come more boldly, and I have learned to embrace my own style. The Holy Spirit gave me what I needed, not what I asked for in my imagination—and I am grateful.

The Stanley Cup Lesson

After I finished telling this story to my friend's mum, the Holy Spirit brought another illustration to my mind.

My younger daughter, Zahra, had wanted a Stanley Cup for a long time because her best friend and her older sister (Nainai) had one. I told her she would have to earn it. If she performed exceptionally well and won a prize at the end of the school year, I promised I would buy it for her. We made this agreement at the beginning of the school year.

She worked incredibly hard. Although already an excellent student, she pushed herself even further. Her grades climbed, and her writing sharpened. Even her teacher commented, "Miss Zahra vexed this second term! She left nothing for anyone!" I was so proud of her.

Then, while thinking about what to buy for her birthday this year, the Holy Spirit reminded me of that Stanley Cup. Even though the school year is still wrapping up, her dad and I went to get it for her.

In that moment, I realized something. Zahra had worked hard, sure, but I wasn't bound by the timeline I had set for our agreement. I was the giver of the gift. I could choose to give it early simply because I loved her and wanted to delight her. Nothing restricted me. And so I did. Zahra was overjoyed.

In that same way, God is the giver of every good gift—including spiritual gifts. He isn't a reluctant dispenser. He doesn't wait until we've jumped through every hoop. We may ask, we may desire, we may pray—but He alone determines when, where, and how He gives. Whether we feel He is seemingly early, late, or right on the dot, know that His timing is always rooted in perfect love.

As Jesus reminds us in Matthew 7:9–11:

"Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone?... If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him?"

My Final Thoughts

My friend's mum laughed in her usual way, and together we agreed that we would simply continue praying with and for her daughter while trusting God with the outcome.

As for me, I'm grateful for how far the Lord has brought me. Today, I speak in tongues regularly—sometimes in a quiet whisper during private prayer, a language only He hears; other times, openly and freely as the Spirit prompts during worship or ministry. It has become a natural rhythm of communion. And yet, I hold it lightly. Paul teaches that this gift builds us up (1 Corinthians 14:4). It is sustenance—a direct line of edification between my spirit and God, bypassing my sometimes-clouded mind. But it is not a badge of honour.

I am reminded of this every time I think of my own mother. She is one of the finest Christians I know. She has long desired the gift of speaking in tongues. She has prayed for it and has been prayed for many times. Yet, to this day, it has not manifested in that way. Still, the fruit of the Spirit is evident throughout her life. Her character reflects Christ. God answers her prayers. Her life continually blesses others.

So no, our ability—or inability—to speak in tongues does not determine whether we belong to God or whether He hears us. It does not make us more loved or less loved. It does not make us more Christian or less Christian. And it certainly does not speed up or delay our prayers. What matters is this: we are His. And He is good—whether we speak in tongues or only in the language of a sincere, desperate heart.

This is simply my journey. Your story may be different. And that's perfectly okay.

I'd genuinely love to hear your own experiences, testimonies, questions, or reflections. We all learn when we listen to one another, and perhaps your story will encourage someone else the way others have encouraged me.