Yesterday, I had the chance to spend some time with a former student of mine, Tobias. Tobias, or Tobs as his friends call him, was an exchange student at Madison Academy the first year I taught there. A native of Germany, Tobs spent the entire school year being immersed in American culture. More specifically, Tobs received a healthy dose of Southern American culture, complete with a tutelage in “real football”. Although he could never quite grasp the American fascination with McDonald’s (he once remarked that Mickey D’s food tasted like cardboard), I think he had a generally positive experience here. Anyway, we had the chance to catch up yesterday. Tobs came back to visit his “host family” for a couple of weeks before his fall semester begins back in Germany.

My earliest memory of Tobs those first few weeks he was here was that he always came into my class with a headache. He had my class, 12th grade Bible, at the end of the day, 8th period. He would always come to class holding his head and as soon as we would finish taking notes, he would put his head down and rest. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me he was exhausted from having to constantly translate everything. In his words, it was like he was having to “double translate” in order to communicate. He’d hear a sentence in English, but in his thoughts he was translating it into German, formulating his response in German and then translating that thought back into English. This act of double translation certainly took its toll on Tobs during those first few weeks.

Eventually, as his grasp of the English language became more firm, Tobs and I struck up quite a friendship. He was very curious about a lot of things and after he’d been in the States a month or so, we were able to communicate almost seamlessly. Our discussions that year ran the gamut from music to theology to politics to sports and after a while, Tobs was able to communicate effortlessly no matter what terrain our conversation veered toward. At a certain point, translation was no longer necessary. Rather than always thinking in German, Tobs happily confessed, “I’m thinking now in English!” By the end of the school year, his immersion in the English language complete, Tobs told me he’d even begun dreaming in English.

I wonder what it would be like to be immersed in the language of Scripture to that degree. To live so fully in the world of the text that translation is no longer necessary. To completely adopt the language of Scripture as my interpretive grid for making sense of my own reality. Often times, I’m probably guilty of a little “double translation”, too — mainly because I don’t live in the world of Scripture enough to become conversant. In The End of Words, Richard Lischer writes about this:

Reading the Bible is more like learning a language than translating a few phrases. When you really know a language, translation is unnecessary. The learner may proudly say, “I don’t know when it happened, but I just noticed I am thinking in Spanish!” How do you read the Bible in such a way that you quit translating and begin to think and speak in its language?

In a world of competing stories, I believe Scripture offers a story — no, the story — which gives meaning and purpose to my existence. The world of Scripture is a world I’m invited to live in. When I enter fully into the world of the text, I find my reality transformed by the larger reality to which Scripture bears witness. Indeed, the command God gave to Ezekiel is mine as well: Eat this book (3:1). In so doing, I find that I begin to adopt the language of Scripture as if it were my own native tongue. But this requires consumption, a full immersion of the Word, and this is no easy thing.

And yet, after consuming the Word, we would bear witness to the testimony of Ezekiel: “It tasted so good — just like honey (3:3).” When I’m immersed in the world of the text, I find that my language drips with the ancient words of Scripture. Words of praise fall readily from my lips. Truth and grace inhabit my thoughts and words. And, on those rarest of occasions, I might even by so bold as to dream in the language of Scripture, glimpsing a world just beyond our borders, a Kingdom already come and not-yet made known.

Oh, yes, we should eat this book, indeed…