Speaking with an Accent
The other day, I fell down an internet rabbit hole. It
started with watching a video of Saoirse Ronan trying to teach Stephen Colbert how to speak with an Irish accent. That soon led to listening to Emily Blunt imitate various accents and a myriad of celebrity impressions. Accents have
always been fascinating to me. When my brother and I were younger, largely
because of my dad’s sense of humor, we were great imitators of the voices we
heard and lines from movies. (The Genie from Aladdin was a favorite.) My brother, to this day, is the funniest
person I know and the one person always guaranteed to make me laugh. Throughout
our lives, we’ve developed our own shorthand language based on tons of accents,
movie clips, lines from TV shows, and childhood experiences. As I was learning
Spanish, I couldn’t help but wonder if learning Spanish pronunciation was relatively
smooth for me because of the years that my brother and I had spent listening to
and imitating others. It’s still an internal joy for me when a Honduran talks
to me on the phone and thinks that I’m Honduran based on my voice. Most of the
time, though, I know I have an accent. Accents are always presented as an
exotic, sweet thing when it comes to English speakers, especially in movies, so
it’s amusing to know that I have an accent in Spanish and to wonder how that
changes other’s perceptions or feelings toward me. And, as I’m teaching Raúl
English, while he sometimes reminds me of Joey learning French from Phoebe on Friends, his accent is endearing.
The more celebrities doing impressions of other celebrities that I watched, the more I began to wonder what exactly it is within us that causes us to think that imitation is a source of humor. Why are SNL parodies so popular? And, why do we work so hard to be able to sound like someone else when learning a new language? As I turned this over in my head and did a little Google searching, what I learned is that imitation is the way an infant learns how to operate in his new environment, it’s the way some animals learn how to relate to each other, and it’s the way that we learn culture even as adults. Imitation is a learning tool and a way to connect with others. Most of us have heard the saying, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” and often what we imitate consciously or unconsciously is something that we admire or something that we want to have as a bonding experience with someone else.
As followers of Jesus, we, by definition, are imitators. We, in some way, are recognizing that all of us will be imitators of something or someone, and for us, the decision is to imitate Jesus. The Bible in the Amplified Version puts it like this, “Therefore become imitators of God [copy Him and follow His example], as well-beloved children [imitate their father].” And, that last part about children imitating their Father is exactly the beauty of it. Most of the time, we think of imitation as something that we do that draws us away from our true selves. It’s wearing a name brand without considering if we actually like their clothing because everyone in high school is. It’s thinking we have to have a certain cell phone or car or whatever else just because everyone else around us does without considering our true needs or budget. It’s trying to convince ourselves that we really like trendy health foods because that’s what the status quo is telling us is healthy even though our taste buds are screaming in disdain. But, imitating God doesn’t draw us away from ourselves, but rather, it is a returning to who we always were, from the beginning of time in the halls of eternity, according to the divine blueprints of the Creative Artist. Just as a child puts on her mother’s lipstick and high heels and parades around the living room tripping and looking a bit like a clown, our imitations of God are often limited, child-like versions of the real thing. Our Father’s work boots don’t always fit so easily on our restless feet, and His robes of royalty often get dragged through the mud of our bad decisions while resting on our weary shoulders. But, we carry Him, we bond with Him, we remain connected to Him through our imitations nonetheless.
As a child tries to make his mom’s famous lasagna recipe for the first time and laments that the noodles were chewy and the meat sauce was soupy, we may feel like our attempts to represent Jesus well are too sloppy, too amateur. We may become frustrated by the imperfections of something we so desired to do well. But, I rather think that God sees our flawed following similarly to how we see someone with an accent speaking to the very best of his ability. The lilting or halting or the twangy sounds don’t take away from the central message. If anything, they make the message more personal, more human, more authentic, and more captivating. That doesn’t mean that sometimes there isn’t a need for correction—if an accent is so thick it makes the message incomprehensible, obviously the speaker needs to do some work. But, our usual accent just reminds the world around us and our Father that we’re here, present and willing vessels.
When I first became a missionary, I wasn’t totally sure of the specifics of my call or how I should carry out who I am as an expression of ministry. When you think that ministry is all about what you do, it’s all too tempting to do what everyone else does because that’s what you think you’re supposed to do. But, in realizing that ministry is first and foremost who I am as God created me to be, I also realized that I needed to be more careful about who and what I was imitating. Now, I am blessed to feel free to imitate Jesus and let my life speak out a representation of who He is but with a distinct Sarah accent.
It’s amazing how different cultures can give different accents to the Christian life. It’s one of the reasons I think cross-cultural ministry and work are so important. To give you an example of this, my girl, Estefanny, recently asked me, “Mami, why do a lot of North American worship leaders sing barefoot?” I explained to her that for many of us, intimacy in worship means being free and comfortable to dance without fear of falling over our high heels or free to kneel without thinking about how we’re going to avoid being inappropriate in a skirt. It’s feeling like we’re at home in God’s presence without having to put on any airs. This kind of casualness is uncommon within Latin American culture. Here, they like titles, dignity, Sunday best clothing, and reverence. Some of them also dance and kneel, just wearing their high heels and Sunday best. We each have a piece of the puzzle. We each hold a note in the melody, an instrument in the orchestra. Our individual and collective accents speak to the creativity and joy of one, loving Creator. And I think that God entrusted us with the job of representing and imitating Him precisely because He enjoys our accents. He thrills in the lilting, sing-song, breathy, free-as-a-bird demonstrations of His love, and He’s awed by the heavy, guttural, throaty seriousness of our dedication and reverence to His sovereignty. The point isn’t perfection; it’s the effort we make to speak His language.
The more celebrities doing impressions of other celebrities that I watched, the more I began to wonder what exactly it is within us that causes us to think that imitation is a source of humor. Why are SNL parodies so popular? And, why do we work so hard to be able to sound like someone else when learning a new language? As I turned this over in my head and did a little Google searching, what I learned is that imitation is the way an infant learns how to operate in his new environment, it’s the way some animals learn how to relate to each other, and it’s the way that we learn culture even as adults. Imitation is a learning tool and a way to connect with others. Most of us have heard the saying, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” and often what we imitate consciously or unconsciously is something that we admire or something that we want to have as a bonding experience with someone else.
As followers of Jesus, we, by definition, are imitators. We, in some way, are recognizing that all of us will be imitators of something or someone, and for us, the decision is to imitate Jesus. The Bible in the Amplified Version puts it like this, “Therefore become imitators of God [copy Him and follow His example], as well-beloved children [imitate their father].” And, that last part about children imitating their Father is exactly the beauty of it. Most of the time, we think of imitation as something that we do that draws us away from our true selves. It’s wearing a name brand without considering if we actually like their clothing because everyone in high school is. It’s thinking we have to have a certain cell phone or car or whatever else just because everyone else around us does without considering our true needs or budget. It’s trying to convince ourselves that we really like trendy health foods because that’s what the status quo is telling us is healthy even though our taste buds are screaming in disdain. But, imitating God doesn’t draw us away from ourselves, but rather, it is a returning to who we always were, from the beginning of time in the halls of eternity, according to the divine blueprints of the Creative Artist. Just as a child puts on her mother’s lipstick and high heels and parades around the living room tripping and looking a bit like a clown, our imitations of God are often limited, child-like versions of the real thing. Our Father’s work boots don’t always fit so easily on our restless feet, and His robes of royalty often get dragged through the mud of our bad decisions while resting on our weary shoulders. But, we carry Him, we bond with Him, we remain connected to Him through our imitations nonetheless.
As a child tries to make his mom’s famous lasagna recipe for the first time and laments that the noodles were chewy and the meat sauce was soupy, we may feel like our attempts to represent Jesus well are too sloppy, too amateur. We may become frustrated by the imperfections of something we so desired to do well. But, I rather think that God sees our flawed following similarly to how we see someone with an accent speaking to the very best of his ability. The lilting or halting or the twangy sounds don’t take away from the central message. If anything, they make the message more personal, more human, more authentic, and more captivating. That doesn’t mean that sometimes there isn’t a need for correction—if an accent is so thick it makes the message incomprehensible, obviously the speaker needs to do some work. But, our usual accent just reminds the world around us and our Father that we’re here, present and willing vessels.
When I first became a missionary, I wasn’t totally sure of the specifics of my call or how I should carry out who I am as an expression of ministry. When you think that ministry is all about what you do, it’s all too tempting to do what everyone else does because that’s what you think you’re supposed to do. But, in realizing that ministry is first and foremost who I am as God created me to be, I also realized that I needed to be more careful about who and what I was imitating. Now, I am blessed to feel free to imitate Jesus and let my life speak out a representation of who He is but with a distinct Sarah accent.
It’s amazing how different cultures can give different accents to the Christian life. It’s one of the reasons I think cross-cultural ministry and work are so important. To give you an example of this, my girl, Estefanny, recently asked me, “Mami, why do a lot of North American worship leaders sing barefoot?” I explained to her that for many of us, intimacy in worship means being free and comfortable to dance without fear of falling over our high heels or free to kneel without thinking about how we’re going to avoid being inappropriate in a skirt. It’s feeling like we’re at home in God’s presence without having to put on any airs. This kind of casualness is uncommon within Latin American culture. Here, they like titles, dignity, Sunday best clothing, and reverence. Some of them also dance and kneel, just wearing their high heels and Sunday best. We each have a piece of the puzzle. We each hold a note in the melody, an instrument in the orchestra. Our individual and collective accents speak to the creativity and joy of one, loving Creator. And I think that God entrusted us with the job of representing and imitating Him precisely because He enjoys our accents. He thrills in the lilting, sing-song, breathy, free-as-a-bird demonstrations of His love, and He’s awed by the heavy, guttural, throaty seriousness of our dedication and reverence to His sovereignty. The point isn’t perfection; it’s the effort we make to speak His language.
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