Tom Tilley - Speaking in Tongues

One of the best-known Australian journalists of his generation, TOM TILLEY has interviewed everyone from prime ministers to Pussy Riot, including global icons such as Sir David Attenborough and Al Gore. Tom made his name as the long-time host of Hack, triple js daily current affairs radio program. He has also hosted Hack Live on ABC TV, reported for ABC TVs 7.30 and Foreign Correspondent programs and guest hosted ABC RN Breakfast and The Project on Network Ten. He is currently hosting The Briefing, a daily news podcast with Southern Cross Austereo, and is a regular guest on various television programs.

Alongside his journalism, Tom moonlights as a bass guitarist and spent three years touring with indie pop act Client Liaison. Wearing bold prints and too much pastel, hes played almost every major Australian music festival. Tom grew up in Central West New South Wales and now lives in Sydney with his partner and their son. Speaking in Tongues is his first book.

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First published in Australia in 2022

by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited

ABN 36 009 913 517

harpercollins.com.au

Copyright Tilley Media Pty Ltd 2022

The right of Tom Tilley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.

This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 978 0 7333 4102 1 (paperback)

ISBN: 978 1 4607 1278 8 (ebook)

A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia

Cover design by HarperCollins Design Studio

Front cover image by Janne Schra

Author photo by Mark Clinton

Internal design by Designer, HarperCollins Design Studio

Scripture taken from the New King James Version. Copyright 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Excerpt from The Wisdom of Insecurity by Alan W. Watts, copyright 1951 by Penguin Random House LLC, copyright renewed 1979 by Mary Jane Yates Watts. Used by permission of Pantheon Books, an imprint of the Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved.

To Amanda and Maxwell

To my family for being open to change

And to every person who was kind along this journey

Most of this story, including the dialogue, is based on my own recollections of events and conversations that took place. I acknowledge that memory can be faulty and self-serving and accept that others may remember these moments differently. Where possible, Ive cross checked timelines and where appropriate have done further reading and research. Despite the inevitable subjectivity of a story as personal as this, Ive earnestly endeavoured to reflect these events truthfully, and to be fair to the people involved. Many of their names have been changed to afford them privacy.

I WASNT EVEN TEN, but already there was a question mark over my salvation. If God returned, I would probably rise up to the sky with my parents, but I couldnt be sure. The older I got, the greater the urgency to meet God on my own terms. I could only do that if I received the Holy Spirit, and the only sure sign of that would be if I could speak in tongues, like people did in the Bible.

This had always been my reality. Id heard it from every adult who was part of our church, the Revival Centres of Australia. My parents had received the Holy Spirit, and so had all my uncles and aunties in the Lord. Even my little brother Sam could speak in tongues. Every child born and raised in this church knew it lay ahead of them, and the sooner it happened the sooner you secured your place in heaven.

Hopefully tonight would be my turn. It was New Years Eve, the climax of the churchs Christmas Camp. Around five hundred of us had driven from all over Australia to meet near the town of Moruya on the green and salty South Coast of New South Wales. The final stage of our journey took us past a sparkling blue estuary, then down a dirt track through dense bush that eventually opened up to a big grassy hill. The rundown old scout camp, now full of tents, cabins and friendly faces, had been perfectly repurposed by our church for these big moments of fellowship.

When night fell, the dark hillside became a moving galaxy of torchlights. People clutching Bibles and foldout chairs navigated tent ropes and parked cars to reach the main hall, a green corrugated-iron building perched halfway up the hill.

As people approached the hall, the singing and clapping grew louder and the light from the halls windows illuminated the ironbarks and grey gums. Latecomers hurried into the back of the building, sliding their chairs into makeshift rows to join the lively congregation.

I walked to the front of the hall, where my Bible had been minding my seat since the morning meeting. Sitting with my friends, not far from my parents, I had a close-up view of the band. As they tore through song after song, my eyes moved between them and the chorus leader, who was bouncing with energy in the middle of the stage. Clap your hands, everybody! Raise your voices up to the Lord!

Then just as hed sent the room into a frenzy, he pulled us back into a tender moment of devotion. Okay, now stand up and close your eyes, brothers and sisters. The camp chairs briefly scraped on the timber floor as everyone got up to deliver a powerful rendition of one of my favourite songs.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, but now am found

Was blind, but now I see

Just when I thought this lyrical prayer was going to end and wed open our eyes, the chorus leader leaned into the mic and softly said, once more, this time without the band. They dropped out on cue, leaving the roomful of voices to soar into a capella.

The singing was so loud I could barely hear my prepubescent voice but that didnt matter, because just by opening my lungs to sing I felt my body join the collective vibration. Whether it was God or just the raw synergy of human voices in harmony it felt like there was enough power to lift us all up through the roof and into the sky. And the Bible said that this could happen at any moment, because the day of the Lord so cometh as a thief in the night. Jesus had warned of wars and rumours of wars, and the Americans were about to start bombing Iraq maybe these were the Last Days.

After our chorus session, we watched a series of musical performances mixed in with biblical messages and the occasional skit. Just before midnight, the chorus leader announced that a prayer meeting for seekers of the Holy Spirit would commence up in the log cabin, a humble structure that took pride of place at the top of the hill.