Sunday, April 14, 2013

Hearing The Voice Of God

People sometimes ask me what I mean when I say I heard the voice of God. I talk to God all the time, and I share that with people all the time, even people who I don’t know well or who aren’t “church” people. When I was born again, I had such a powerful revelation of God through Jesus Christ that my life was changed in a profound and deep way for the better. I can’t keep silent about that change because I know that it’s available to anyone at any time. I heard the voice of God at that time, and have continued to hear it since, and when I say that to people, even church people, they often ask what I am hearing, or how I am hearing that voice. Is it a voice like I hear when I am talking on the phone or in person with someone? Is it a thunderous voice? Does the earth move and do mountains quake? Well, yes, and no to all of the above. God speaks to each of us in the way that we can hear Him best. If there’s a particular message He wants to give us, He’ll use anything and everything to get that message to us.

When I was born again, it was through the message of forgiveness of others. I was in a situation of my own making that had gone horribly wrong. I was being betrayed by someone I loved deeply, was unemployed and in debt, my own business was a wreck, and I was on the verge of being homeless. Friends and family couldn’t or wouldn’t help me, there was nothing but destruction everywhere I turned. I’d had a lifetime of situations similar to this one, sometimes due to no fault of my own, although in this situation I was at fault for an unhealthy relationship decision that I had made, and though I had never had thoughts of suicide before, at this point I was ready to die. I didn’t want to kill myself, but I wanted to die. I saw no way out and nothing for the future but more misery. I knew I was at fault this time, and so I felt the deep weight of my own bad decisions, and I didn’t see any way out of them either. I felt I deserved the bed I was lying in, and there really was no reason for me to be allowed to have another chance. I was a mess and had created a mess, and that was going to be my end. It was in that place, at the darkest hour, that God started speaking to me that there was a way out, and that way was through forgiveness.

When I tell people about that time, I say that I didn’t even know at first that it was God speaking to me. The messages were coming from everywhere. Everyone I talked to about what I was going through told me I needed to pray for myself, but that I also needed pray for the people who were betraying me and causing me harm and destroying my life. Some of these people who gave me that message were Christians, but some were not, but no matter what their beliefs, the message kept coming that I needed to forgive. I’d be walking down the street, and the message would come again, through something said by someone passing by, on the headline of a newspaper, a radio announcement, a conversation overheard.
One night when I was walking back to the place where I was barely still living, I saw a booklet on the ground. It had been raining for at least a day, and though it was still fairly early, it was wintertime and dark as only dark wet winter nights can be. I was passing by an alleyway on a side street, and a street lamp from the corner was shining directly on this little booklet on the ground. I could see the cover was a cartoon drawing of Scrooge from Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol,” saying “Bah Humbug!”  I’ve always loved cartoons, and that story is a particular family favorite. My father always walked around at Christmastime saying “Bah Humbug,” as his own particular joke. I picked up the booklet and it was almost completely dry. I didn’t really think much of that fact except to notice it because it had been raining for so long and everything else around it was soaked. I put it in my bag and forgot about it until the next morning.
The booklet was a religious tract, but in the form of a short cartoon story, using the story of Scrooge with scripture added. The whole message revolved around forgiveness. At one point, there was a picture of Jesus on the Cross saying, “Father forgive them because they know not what they do.” When I read that, I put the booklet down – I may have even thrown it down – and said, “All right, I’m getting the message, and I know that you were able to forgive when you were on the Cross, but I’m not you!” I had never been a church goer on any regular basis. I grew up in a family of multiple religions with no one really practicing anything much except for my father’s mother who went to church regularly. I went to church a few times with her when I was very little, and with other friends over the years, but I didn’t know anything really about God or the Bible. But here I was, talking to Him as if I’d known Him all my life. And He answered, just as if I had always been talking to Him. The answer that came back that day was very clear and very simple, but very gentle and kind. It was not a thunderous voice, but not a small one either. It cut straight into my heart and mind and spirit with the words, “You’re not on the Cross.” Simple words, but they meant so much to me. I understood at that moment that He had forgiven us all when He was on the Cross, and that was why He went to the Cross, but that He would never ask me to go through something like that. He had gone through that so that I would never have to. I understood that He was able to forgive us all, that He loves us all, even me, even the people who were treating me so horribly, even people who do even more horrible things. I understood that my own sin and my own mistakes were no better or no worse that anyone else's, and that He still loved me anyway. I understood that if I was able to forgive the people who were treating me so badly, and all of the people who had treated me badly in the past, how much more He could pour His love and forgiveness into my life. I started weeping, and said, “I understand I understand I understand.”

When the voice came that day, I can’t say that it would have been audible to anyone else, but I heard it loud and clear. I can’t say it was only in my head because I heard it in every part of my being. Since that time I’ve been talking to God on a regular basis, and the conversations have gotten richer and deeper as I‘ve gotten to know Him more through reading the Bible, and going to church, through studying His Word, and talking to other people. He talks to me sometimes through nature, because He knows I love being in the countryside and taking long walks in the woods and on the beach. He’ll talk to me through gardening, because He knows I love that too. He’ll give me a message through scripture and then confirm it in a conversation with a friend, through an overheard voice on the subway or the street, through a song I love by Iggy Pop. Yesterday I was working at a community center that was not a Christian organization, and when I got there and was shown to the room where I would be giving my presentation, there was a mural on the wall that had these words right at my eye level, “God fulfills His promises. Be patient.” What are the odds of that happening? I could say it was a coincidence, but I know by now that there are only Godincidences. I could say it was the universe, something that I used to say before I met the Lord of the universe. But isn't it a wondrous thing to know that it's no coincidence and not a general universe talking to you, but that it's the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords, the Master of All Creation that is taking the time to speak to your heart?

God is speaking to all of us all the time. When I was born again, I wasn’t in any place where I would imagine God would care to be, but He did care to be there, because He cared about me. I still don’t  understand why He would bother, but He does, and all I need to do is accept that, and keep the conversation going. Psalm 19:1 says, “The Heavens declare the Glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of His hands.” All we need to do is go outside and look up, and we’ll hear Him if we listen.

Blessings,

Jannie Susan

No comments:

Post a Comment