Lost in Translation? by Emily Owen

        

Last week, I was in Albania. I have friends who are missionaries there and, during my time with them, they asked me to speak to a group about faith and disability and writing. I have experience in all three. What I don’t have experience in is speaking Albanian. Many who came to hear me would not understand English. We needed an interpreter…

The day before I was due to give these sessions, the lady who would be interpreting for me met with me, at her request. We spent time together, discussing how we could work together the following day. I needed her help and guidance; I’ve never spoken via an interpreter in this way before. 

The interpreter had one main thing for me to remember: stop speaking after a couple of sentences, so she could translate. Then I was to say another couple of sentences and pause again. Etc etc.

In the event, I found stopping after saying so little quite difficult – at first. I soon got the hang of it. I have a reputation for being a talker at times, but, when I was in the mindset of pausing, it wasn’t as hard as I’d anticipated.

As Christian writers, we have the privilege of taking things God puts on our hearts, and translating them into words. Perhaps a little like an interpreter.

Do we remember to pause?

The reason my interpreter wanted me to pause, was so she could be sure she didn’t miss anything.  She spent time listening to what I was saying right then. Focussing on it, digesting it, translating it, getting the point across.  Only when she’d finished did I speak the next bit.  Only when she was ready to move on. Had I simply spoken for an hour, then expected her to translate, I’m pretty sure bits would have been missed. They’d have been lost in translation.

Do we, like my interpreter, take time to pause?
To pause before God? 
To digest what he is saying to us, so that, when we come to write, nothing is lost in translation?

A few times, as I spoke, the interpreter stopped me and asked for clarification. She hadn’t quite understood what I’d said, and wanted to be sure she did before attempting to translate it.  She wasn’t embarrassed to stop me.  She wasn’t embarrassed to say, ‘I don’t understand’. 

I didn’t mind her interrupting me; I was glad she did. And she listened as I clarified my meaning. Her one aim was to be sure she translated to the best of her ability. So that nothing got lost.

As writers – and non-writers – sometimes things God puts on our hearts can seem confusing.  
We don’t understand them.  
And we might forget that we can always pause, turn to God and say, ‘I don’t understand’.  
He doesn’t mind, I’m sure of it! 
Then, as we pray in our pausing, asking for clarification and understanding, we are in a place to translate to the best of our ability. 

So that nothing gets lost.