There's much talk about interactions between God and humans during this season. Angels appearing to Mary and shepherds and Zachariah. Remembrances of God's word to the prophets. Clear directions. Loving promises. Dramatic interventions.
For many years I believed that kind of communication had ceased long ago. I'd seen tel-evangelists misuse the phrase "God told me..." and I didn't grow up in a faith community that entrusted conversations with God to non-clergy. If God had something to say, he said it in the Bible. End of story. In this theology, my Bible reading was reduced to analyzing context and my prayer was limited to me speaking because I didn't know a God who would respond.
Oh, I heard stories of people who claimed that God spoke to them. My mother sometimes hinted that she experienced this kind of heresy. Of course, she also read "The Living Bible" so I wasn't sure she could be trusted. While I desired to experience more of God, it never occurred to me to listen for his voice.
Moving into the unknown...or the previously unheard.
I can't pinpoint the moment, or even the year that my theology began to change. I remember that my husband preached a sermon about hearing God and then I read a book by the same title by Dallas Willard. I moved slowly at first; reticent to trust what I was experiencing. But one of my first realizations was that God had been speaking to me all along. In retrospect, divine whispers permeated my story.
I was reminded this week of one of my earliest memories of God giving me words. It was at Sioux Center Christian School in Mr. Hofland's Jr. High art class. Our class had been commissioned to create a stained glass window for the building entrance and Mr. Hofland was soliciting potential Bible verses or spiritual phrases that would be appropriate for this masterpiece.
Art was not my thing and a part of my brain shut down when creative ideas were being bantered around. I preferred to excel on the basketball court or on tests where right and wrong were easily deciphered. My best friend, Jami, was good at art. She had the 'eye'. I did not. While I could recognize great art, I could absolutely not create it.
But sitting in that art room an idea came to me. Not just a passing thought. More like a a passion. Time slowed and I could feel my heart beat. I raised my hand to share these words. "The least of these I call my own." As I said them, I had a deep sense that to choose any other phrase for the window would be a grave wrong. Perhaps I was so invested in these words because I rarely contributed anything of artistic or creative value in this class, but I think not. Today, I believe it was one of my first brushes with the voice of God.
Since then I've become more attune to God's voice. I've experienced nearly irresistible calls to action where all my senses were engaged as well as barely distinguishable melodies of grace. I've misunderstood, I've sometimes disobeyed and I've often questioned these promptings. But I no longer question that God speaks, and that he speaks to me.
John 10:27English Standard Version (ESV)
The phrase I shared that day was ultimately chosen, becoming a visual reminder to me of the joy of following a God who would entrust me with his heart. But this season is all about this amazing God who would embrace the weak and lowly and "who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross" (Hebrews 12:2). May you experience him afresh this season and hear him lovingly sing your name!
How does God speak to you? Are there any times when his voice has been unmistakable? Have you ever questioned if you were hearing God's voice or just thinking crazy thoughts? How do you distinguish?
Kelli is a writer, speaker and consultant equipping leaders for a deepening intimacy with Christ, greater impact in ministry and more effective intentionality in all of life.
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