I Remember the Last Time I Spoke in Tongues

It's 1am and I can't fall asleep.

We just returned from Los Angeles a few days ago, and the jet lag is brutal.

I close my eyes to trick myself into going to sleep.

"No," my brain says. "No, it's not time. Let's think about when you were fifteen at youth group and you were leading the worship and started playing, 'Lord, We Lift Your Name On High,' on the guitar and you started singing off-key and everybody laughed at you. Wasn't that so embarrassing?"

"Yeah, it was," I say. "Can we just go to sleep now?"

"Ha ha, no," my brain says. "We have so much more to cover. Remember the time you spoke in tongues? You were at a religious conference one summer in Ohio, and every night people would gather in the church to be slain in the spirit and speak in tongues, and you joined in. What were you saying exactly?"

"Okay, yeah," I say. "I don't know what I was babbling. But everyone was doing it and I didn't want to be left out."

My brain continues: "And remember when you were slain in the spirit, and you fell to the ground, convulsing?"

"Okay, I'm getting up now," I say to my brain. "I'm going to go have some whiskey."

"I'll be waiting for you when you get back," my brain says. "I'll be here. I'm ready for you, whenever you need me."