God's voice doesn't sound like mine. I want to be comfortable, smart, and successful. God wants me to grow. When he speaks, it usually feels like the world goes on pause for a moment, as if I just remembered something that I never knew. The message is often clear, though I usually ask for some kind of confirmation. That's because he's asking me to do something uncomfortable. At other times, it comes as the revelation of a concept, which always makes me feel a combination of excitement, humility, and gratefulness. It is very unlike the feeling I get when I solve something with research or logic. The first time I clearly heard God's voice was in my senior year of high school. I was sitting in my home church when the pastor posed the question, "How can we be salt and light on the earth?" I looked across the room and saw this kid who was obsessed with Sacramento Kings Basketball. He knew every player, every stat. He listened to every game on his little radio and never failed to pack my ears full of commentary every Sunday. When I saw him, the Holy Spirit spoke to me. It was not a voice in my head. It was not a voice anywhere. It was a sudden realization that seemed to come more from my chest than my head. The message was imposed, not extrapolated from previous information. I wasn't even seriously considering the question when the answer was given. That was Sunday. On Monday and Tuesday, I preached to the interior of my car as I drove to school in the morning. I coudn't help it. It was a compulsion. Like an itch. My sermon was something like this: That boy was a "light" to Kings basketball. Why? Because he loved it. Do girls need to be compelled to pull out a picture of their boyfriends? Do experienced singers need a gun put to their heads before they'll sing? No. They love it. Why was I not a light for God? I didn't love him. The secret to the Christian life is to fall in love with God, not try harder. Otherwise the relationship is forced and contrived, leading to hypocrisy. I would find myself acting more like the Devil who "masquerades as an angel of light" than God who is the true light of the world. On Tuesday afternoon I was sitting in a little bible study at school and the leader of the Student Council was complaining that he had to speak in chapel in just two days but could think of nothing to talk about. I quickly offered to take it for him. You need to understand something. I had a reputation for being negative and argumentative, especially in spiritual conversations. Also, this was the Student Council chapel. I wasn't even on the Student Council. By some miracle, he gave it to me without hesitation. When I sat down to prepare on Wednesday night, I had so many ideas I was just notating the avalanche of information in my head. It was like a spiritual download. Then, on Thursday morning, I was standing in front of my entire high school preaching the very thing I had heard from God on the previous Sunday. That chapel was my first preaching experience. I was nervous in front of my peers, but also confident in what I had to say. When I was finished, I saw that some of the students were crying. One teacher said that it was the best chapel of the year. I was a little freaked out to be honest. That was my first experience with the voice of God. I have had many since. In most cases, he does something physical to confirm his word to me, just as he did on that first occasion. I have also noticed that the message is rarely given for my own personal benefit. Though he loves us individually and speaks personally to us, he often works in such a way that, at the right time, the message can be given to others. We are not meant to be spiritual sponges, but more like tubes. When we put fuel in our bodies, it is for the entire body, not just one small part. God seems to fuel his body in the same way. What is your first experience with the voice of God?
About Me
- John Barnts
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9 comments:
God "speaks" to His children so that they will hear. If God spoke to me the way he did to Moses in the desert, I would probably freak out and run, not stay and listen...
I had always thought that I needed to figure out how to "hear" God's voice, not that He would know exactly how to speak to ME. The Bible uses comparisons about how God cares for his children like a father cares for his child, and I believe that He also speaks to us the same.
Well no father-son, or father-daughter relationship is the same, even within one family. I have a VERY different relationship with my father, than each of my sisters. We get each other's jokes, we can talk for DAYS about music, and nobody else in the room even pays attention to us, we don't even HAVE to talk to know what each other is thinking.
A prime example, on Sunday my dad told me and my sister a story about his college days, and when he made it into the dance band as the piano player, which was a very coveted spot. The story ended with a GREAT punch line, to which I replied, "AH MAN! That is SO GREAT! And my sister said, "I don't get it."
I believe God wants us ALL to "get it". He doesn't want only some of His children to know Him intimately, but we have to desire to be known intimately, as well. Intimacy requires vulnerability, honesty, and humility, and a place where you feel safe to share. Because when you're exposed and naked, you often don't feel very confident.
I totally relate to the feeling of "remembering something I never knew". Yet, at the same time, God speaks to my heart in a very different way than he speaks to John. And that is because John & I are different people, different children, with different emotional & intellectual needs. God speaks to me in imagery and pictures.
The first time that happened was when I was a Sophomore in college. I was driving back to campus in the rain one night, and I was really upset. Really angry at God, because I had felt that He had abandoned me during a difficult time in my childhood.
I was all of a sudden dealing with all of this emotion and pain tied up with that time, and I didn't understand why I was having to deal with it then. Why had God not protected me? Why hadn't someone figured out I needed help? Why was I having to feel all the pain 12 years later?
All of a sudden a picture formed before my eyes. It was me as a little kid, about 9 or 10, sitting on Jesus' lap. I was stone-faced, emotionless, almost cold.
All of a sudden the image panned back for me to see my Lord. He was not only much larger than me, but he radiated a light, and a warmth that you could almost feel just by looking at Him. When I gazed at Him I saw that He was weeping. He was weeping over me...
What I realized, was that He had never left my side, He was heartbroken for me, for the pain that I had to endure as a child. But that I was finally strong enough to face it then, with Him.
As I was thinking about this memory, this story, I realized how I wished I had appreciated then how special and unique God's way of communicating with me is, because had I kept seeking that kind of interaction I wouldn't have had to re-learn how to "hear" Him, as I battled my depression.
But what was impressed upon me was this: God not only wept with me when I was dealing with pain caused by another, but He has also wept with me as I have dealt with pain caused by my own sin. He longs for His children to be WHOLE and HEALED no matter what it is that has left them broken and splintered.
Best post yet, Frank.
I just wanted to draw your attention to some recent comments on Skeptic #1 by Scott that might be interesting to you, and has a lot to do with the current topic.
I agree with Gardiner, best post yet.
It has me thinking overtime. I think the very first time I heard from God was while we were in Egypt. I think you and Gardiner were saying you have no memory of the team "discussion" that happened that day when things went weird. I do...that is the day I remember God speaking so clearly.
Everyone was in the first room to the left. I don't remember what started the whole situation, I remember complaints about the water, that people were tired, and, yes, someone did threaten to throw themselves into harms way. I remember looking out the window at the rooftops (which, as you know werent really rooftops at all, just open areas) and thinking to myself that these people lived in homes I wouldn't house my horse in.
Just then, the sound from the masque and the call to prayer sounded. I realized that this nation that I was in was going to bow and pray to a "god" who didn't exist, didn't love them and didn't really care what they did as long as it didn't involve worshipping the One True God and His Only Son.
I felt God's words like a deep resounding tone; like when you have the bass turned up to loud and it resinates in your chest. Not words really, just feelings. I shared with the group that day, everything that I was feeling. That our God, our True God was right there, in that orphanage, protecting those kids from all that He could. That He was right there, protecting US from all that He could.
Unfortunatly, with the passage of time, those words - those feelings - have become a distant memory. I don't remember what I said. In my journal, I recorded that day that I couldn't really remember what I said to everyone. Sometimes its impossible to put God's speech into human words. But I remember that day how He touched me. How absolutely grateful I was to serve Him. How incredibly big He was to love us all.
ONE NOTE -
I don't know that I have heard from Him ever again in that way. I started to feel like a freak when even my christian friends at bible college weren't as interested in understanding God's word inside and out, because I wanted to more than anything else. Still today, I have a hard time at church because the desire in our age group doesn't exist (not there anyway).
I have become very encouraged by ALL of the posts to understand Him deeper. That, not only should I, but I have to - so that I can love Him. Anyone who is married understand that loving someone is a choice somedays. That it takes a deep commitment everyday to achieve a happy marriage. Why should our Lord, who died on the cross to bring us to Him, deserve anything less.
I hope I am not to far off the subject.
Sounds right on to me
PLEASE, everyone who reads, chime in! It is so important to hear proof, hear that He does speak, and to know that it is in different ways...
You know how some people just have something "they've always known"? I have a friend that always knew he was going to marry a Jennifer. He ended up marrying a Jennifer. That's just weird. And, why? What's in a name? Anyway, I have always just known that God was there, as far back as I remember. It's not like I lived in a 3rd world country in a war zone that required protection from death. But, as a child, I just knew He was there. Now, I know that I was protected by Him. Again, the 3rd world thing, but, I was obviously shielded from things going on around me during my whole entire childhood, for a reason, 'cause I had no clue. I have only memories of happy bliss (Throwing another subject starter in, my mom prayed that I would be shielded from things going on...was that an answer to prayer? Coincidence?)
I think 5th grade is the first time that I can remember Him "speaking" to me. I was at a summer camp, having gone with a group of friends, one of which was my current "best friend." She told me in our cabin one day that we would not be best friends anymore, and, more, that we would never be friends again. Yep. Crushed. We were girls. There was nothing serious that caused it, she just decided.
I was walking along in darkness,either that night, or the next, bouncing flashlights and distant starts being the only illumination of the "midnight walk" that we were on. I was walking by myself. Something spoke in my head out of the blue, "I will be your friend." It was God. It was the feeling that others have said on their comments, I'm sure of it. I felt a smile on my face that only I could know was there.
I ended up being very great friends with the girl in years to come...(happy ending factor)
Well, the first time wasn't at all pleasant. God picked me to confront a (now-former) pastor. It was a messy situation made a lot messier by my incompetence, but I went to the man and said what I believed God wanted me to say, which was pretty much that he had done the easy thing instead of the right thing and that's why God was putting him out of the ministry. It was really an unpleasant experience.
But there have been a lot of other times that were a lot nicer.
When God talks to me, it comes like a thought that isn't mine; like I'm thinking somebody else's thoughts, and I usually argue with them, because they almost always are completely unexpected.
One time, I was taking a shower, thinking about the various spiritual gifts, and in particular thinking about what a dumb and useless gift speaking in tongues would be, and how I'd much rather, if I had a choice in the matter, have the gift of prophecy. Immediately the thought pops into my head, "Why would you want to be a prophet? You're an apostle." I still don't know what to do with that, but if being a prophet is anything like that first experience, I'm happy to not be one.
Usually He asks questions. They are always questions that challenge whatever stupid assumption I've decided is biblical truth. Like when talking about the requirements for salvation, I get "do you think I'm trying to keep people out of Heaven, or get them in?"
Ohh yes! I have heard Gods voice super clear!
When I was fifteen years old I lived with my parents in China. My parents were Christian missionaries.
Through a very interesting set of circumstances I taught spoken English at a Chinese university on Tuesday and Thursday from seven to nine at night. I had seventy adult students. The university was about a solid hours bike ride from the university where my family lived. It was a very convoluted ride through the city of five million people and over a river that was so wide it had an island in the middle that people lived on.
I made a practice of teaching class and then having a late dinner of noodles with some of my students before making the hour ride home. (You have to kind of wonder at how much freedom my parents gave me at that age!)
On this particular night as we walked into the noodle shop it had started to rain. When we came back outside after we ate it was raining extraordinarily hard. So, one of the faculty who had eaten with us decided to help me by showing me a bus to get on instead of trying to fight the rain on my bike. Before getting on the bus I spent nearly all my remaining money on a bag of cookies and a soda.
I happily said good bye, and sat down near the back and proceeded to chomp on cookies and wash them down with my (ChEE ShwAA) that’s soda in Chinese. There were only ten or so other people on the bus with me.
It was around eleven at night and dark other than the occasional street light. And it was very hard to see out the windows due to the water streaming down them. There was a very poor looking old man sitting a couple rows behind me who slid up close to me and started begging for some of my cookies. I gave him one. He ate it and then begged for more. I gave him a couple more and he ate them and begged for still more. I finally just gave him the remainder of my bag, which bummed me out because I loved those little cookies. Once he had all of them he happily went back to his seat and munched away.
During the many minutes of cookie eating I had not been paying attention to the outside surroundings. To my horror nothing looked familiar. I pressed my face close to the glass and peering outside began to panic because we were definitely no where I had been before, and the street lights were racing past the windows. As I sat there I began to think, “Ohh man! I’m in deep trouble! I can’t really speak Chinese, I don’t have enough money to do much of anything! What am I going to do?” I thought, “ok I can hide out till daylight and maybe the rain will stop and in the light of the morning I can try and find my way home.”
As I sat there the bus probably made about four stops letting a couple people on and off. Finally the panic inside of me welled up so hard I cried out to God in an open an audible voice and said, “dear Lord what am I to do?” And I swear to you as loud and clear as if sitting in the seat next to me I heard “GET OFF THE BUS!”. There was no mistaking it. It was loud, forceful, and dominant, also it did not repeat itself. It was so clear I was shocked. I looked around me and there was no one within six or seven feet of me. I quickly ran up to the bus driver and let him know I wanted off. He looked at me with a strange face and came to a stop.
I stood under a street light in the pouring rain and watched the bus pull away from me. There was nothing else going on around me, no cars, no busses and no one on the street. I started to feel incredibly stupid for what I had just done and began to run full speed after the bus. Hoping that maybe I could catch it at the next stop. I chased the bus down the street and lost it as it crossed an intersection and then went out of my sight.
I stood at the intersection for no more than fifteen seconds and another bus came towards me on the road that the bus I had been on crossed. I watched in the pouring rain as it approached and felt the most amazing sense of elation as I recognized its blue and red paint colors as a “happy bus” which I knew had a stop in front of the university where my family lived. I flagged the “happy bus” down and soaking wet sat in a seat. The ride on the “happy” took about forty five minutes and I was home.
You can read this and think whatever you want. But I am convinced with my whole heart that I heard God that night and he said “GET OFF THE BUS”!
I was 15, on a mission trip in Mexico but had no idea why I was there. My recent ex boyfriend was also there, rubbing my face in his new relationship. he had been abusive and I knew it was God who had given me miraculous strength to finally say "good bye" to him for good. But still, I was a co-dependent person with no one to depend on, and my heart ached to the point of bursting. I was really lonely. One night that week, though, we were all out worshiping under the stars, and I felt like I was standing all alone even though there were 2000 other kids there. I looked up to the sky and all of a sudden Christ's love poured into my heart. It was overwhelming, and healing. I cried...I was really loved for the first time. He was (is!) so real, and so near, yet magnificent and powerful and eternal, the Maker of the stars I was gazing up at.
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