Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the voice of God. We Christians speak often of God’s voice, but some of us would be hard pressed to explain it. I’ve heard stories of people hearing an audible voice, but God has never spoken to me that way. Even so, I began hearing Him many years ago, around the same time I began speaking to Him as one speaks to a friend. The first time I ever conversed without using a “formal” prayer was on the evening of my confirmation as a Catholic, smack in the middle of the ceremony. “God, if this is all there is to You, I don’t need You,” I said. (I deeply appreciate my Catholic upbringing, but I never had much tolerance for ritual.) “But if You’re real, and if there’s more to You, then I want all of You,” I continued.
Sometimes we act like God quit talking when the disciples and apostles died . . . We live like His voice is limited to the written words in the pages of our Bibles. I love the Bible with all my heart, but God’s word goes far beyond those 66 books. I’m never outside God’s presence because that’s not even possible; to separate “me” from God would result in nothing but a bag of bones on the floor, for He is my very existence, and therefore I’m never beyond the sound of His voice. I need only to cultivate my awareness of Him, and my response to Him.
The same is true for you. It’s not whimsy or wishful thinking to suppose that you hear Him as you commute to work, build a web page, wash your car, or make the bed. When you hear Him, respond quickly. How? By acknowledging Him, maybe with a brief prayer—“Good morning, Lord!” or “Thank You, Lord, for morning coffee” or just an internal acknowledgement in your spirit. You can communicate spirit-to-Spirit all day long; this is surely what Paul meant when he said we should pray without ceasing. God’s voice is all around if you’ll just hear with spirit ears. You’re not “conjuring up” or imagining anything—rather, you’re learning to see, hear, feel—and then respond to—God’s presence. Let’s stop living as though God speaks to only a select few—or worse yet, as though He is mute.