Originally published 10/7/21

Tucked safely in my pocket, my question traveled with me for years.

What is worship?
How do I worship?
What does it mean to worship?

I’m pretty sure I don’t have a complete answer yet.
And I’m also pretty sure that in Alaska, I almost touched a whale! A worship whale.

Fin Whales are the second largest aquatic marine mammal. They weigh as much as ten large elephants and consume up to 4000 pounds of food daily. They have two blow holes on the top of their head and when they break the surface of the water to let out the breath they have been holding, their water spout or blow can reach 30 feet into the air.***

Our morning writing class had concluded. We circled Leslie and Gary asking question after question of these two seasoned authors and phenomenal teachers.

As we talked, suddenly our attention diverted to Uyak Bay beyond the windows. Fin Whales with their tell-tale blows coming every few seconds put on a show for us.

A plan was quickly set in motion: eat lunch; grab our knee boots and life jackets; and get to the barge. Leslie piloted allowing those onboard to experience a very close encounter with these mammoth animals.

I pinched myself. Sue, pay attention; stay in the moment. This is real. This is amazing. These God-created creatures are swimming in the habitat God designed for them. This is not Sea World. This is worship.

“But though the dory rocked back and forth with the swell of them, the whales never came so close that the boat might capsize. Turner heard them ripping the surface all around him, and felt the diamond spray sprinkle down on him in the moonlight like a benediction. He knew he was in the middle of something much larger than himself, and not just larger in size.” (from Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy, Gary Schmidt. Emphasis mine) My thoughts exactly!

“Ascribe to the LORD glory and strength!
Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name;
bring an offering, and come into his courts!
Worship the LORD in the splendor of holiness;
tremble before him, all the earth!”
Psalm 96:7-9

Sue, be amazed by God’s creation.
Be awed.
Be invited to worship.
Bring an offering. Ascribe to the Lord the splendor of his creation this time lived out in whales.

These ginormous Fin Whales taught me about worship.
These ginormous Fin Whales are helping answer my question.

As I look back over the years, many pieces have fallen into my pocket offering an understanding of worship. The top three are …

1. Training myself to start my (almost) daily devotional time by sitting quietly and be captivated by and in wonder of God’s phenomenal, diverse, beautiful creation.

2. I am thankful for our worship pastors at our church, Village Seven Presbyterian . Every Sunday service is designed to flow seamlessly from the prelude to the postlude, from participating with our voices to participating in listening. I’m experiencing worship.

3. My week in Alaska on Harvester Island was like almost touching a [worship] whale. I opened huge unexpected gifts of the island every day, with every experience. From the immature Eagle flying close, or the Sea Otter floating cradling their young to the huge Seals, Sea Lions, Orcas and Fin Whales; from Starfish to Jelly Fish to Sand dollars, each unique, each amazing; from the new friends who became family to sharing amazing meals with those friends; from words drawing tears to words almost dropping me to floor in laughter; from trust built through vulnerability; from the calm waters to the white caps; from the beauty of orange and yellow sunrises to the orange and yellow sunsets; from the experience of the skiff to the barge; the Beaver Float plane to the Cessna Bush plane. The memories – whale-sized. Metaphorically I almost touched that whale and God is teaching me worship.

Copyright, Sue Tell, October 2021

*** cimioutdoored.org

Originally posted 4/30/20.

Can it be that God reminds us of his abundant power with just one word — one seemingly inconsequential word in the story of Moses, a common everyday shepherd?

That is my experience.

In the narrative of Exodus 3 and 4, Moses is on Mount Horeb tending to the sheep of his father-in-law, Jethro. Suddenly this ordinary day turns into something extraordinary. An angel with a message from God appears; there is a burning bush; Moses hears the words holy ground; and when God knows he has Moses’s attention, God affirms his identity to Moses, “I am the God of your father,” (3:6).  Something big is about to happen.

Then the reason for the visit, God speaks to Moses: “Come, I will send you to Pharaoh that you may bring my people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt.” (3:10) Quite the daunting task for a shepherd!

And Moses was daunted … and scared … and feeling mighty insecure. Excuses, questions, and pleas came fast.

Who am I that I should go? (3:11)
If I come to the people of Israel and they challenge me, who do I say you (God) are? (3:13)
They will not believe me or listen to my voice. (4:1)
I am not eloquent. (4:10)
Oh, my Lord, please send someone else. (4:13)

How might you feel if God tasked you with a seemingly impossible job?

I’m identifying with Moses.

I also love God’s meeting Moses where he is and responding to each excuse.

He (God) said, but I will be with you. (3:12)
God said to Moses, I AM WHO I AM… This is my name forever. (3:14, 15)
I AM, or Yahweh is also a clear reminder of God’s promises to his people and of his help for them to fulfill their calling. (ESV Study Bible notes)

Then the staff, that essential and common piece of equipment for a shepherd, becomes one of the pictures God uses to communicate to Moses about his they will not believe me excuse.

“Staff,” the word God used to get my attention. I’m listening.

God instructs Moses to throw his staff on the ground. It turns into a snake and Moses runs. I would too. God’s next instruction is even scarier, “Put out your hand and catch it by the tail” (4:4) Moses obeys and the snake becomes a staff once again.

The common tool of a common shepherd communicates God’s power.

After two additional convincing pictures of God’s ability, God challenges Moses’s other excuses.

The I am not eloquent with “Who has made man’s mouth? I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall speak.” (4:11, 12)
To Please send someone else, God replies, “Is there not Aaron, your brother, the Levite? I know that he can speak well. I will be with your mouth and with his mouth and will teach you both what to do.” (4:14, 15)

Then God reminds Moses again to take the staff.

That common staff is the very thing God uses to demonstrate his power. A few verses later Moses calls the staff, — the staff of God. (4:20) Moses is beginning to understand what God is communicating about his power to trust an ordinary shepherd for a God-sized role.

It causes me to ponder, can God use ordinary me with a God-sized task?

What has God used to communicate his power to me?
Am I listening or am I making excuses?
Who are my Aarons?
God has not provided a staff for me; but like for Moses he has provided his power and enablement.

What about you? How might you answer the questions God has brought to my attention?

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay,
to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”
II Corinthians 4:7

“May you be strengthened with all power,
according to his glorious might,”
Colossians 1:11

Copyright: Sue Tell, May 2023

July 2023 is a review and update of some of your favorite posts. Reviewing and remembering is important to our Christian lives.

Have you noticed that all of the 2023 posts on Echoes have related to listening to God?

It started with my word for the year, listen. (original post published 1/5/23)

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The boys were in middle school. The calendar had just turned to 1990. We lived in California. I remember our dinner table conversation that New Year’s night. What were our resolutions for the year? I rebelled. I wasn’t making a resolution. They intimidated me. I knew I was setting myself up for failure.

Several years later I learned about the concept of a word for the year. Since 2017 that has been my habit. Okay, admittedly some years my word didn’t last in my memory much past the end of January — you know, kind of like those resolutions I used to make.

But some years – like this year – they have greatly helped me grow in my faith

Listen is my word for 2023.

It started with a sermon. Our pastor pointed us to Isaiah 11:1-9. Verse 9 reads in part, “… for the earth shall be full of knowledge of the LORD…” The word knowledge stood out. I thought about II Peter 3:18, “But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”

Then my husband encouraged our Sunday school class to read through the Bible in 2023.

How can I grow in knowledge if I don’t read?
How can it be more than an academic pursuit if I don’t listen to God while reading?

“… Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,
and delight yourself in rich food.
Incline your ear, and come to me;
hear, that your soul may live …”
from Isaiah 55:2 and 3 (emphasis mine)

Listen — my word for 2023.
Isaiah 55:3 — my verse for 2023.

Many times I’ve spoken on listening and shared these verses in retreats that I lead. Now it is time for me to tune in to the whispers of God … Sue, are you listening?

My morning prayers often start with these desires,
God, please grow my knowing.
Help me to listen for your whispers.
Help me to recognize your love.
Help me to lean into your truth.

For Christmas I received a Journaling Bible and Henri J.M. Nouwen’s devo, You Are The Beloved. In the January 1 meditation, Nouwen shared …

“Imagine that we could walk through the new year
always listening to the voice saying to us:
‘I have a gift for you and can’t wait for you to see it!'”
(bolding mine)

To encourage my listening, I’m also using an ESV app that reads the Bible to me. (Thank you, Kristen Getty.) So I’m reading and listening at the same time. And I pause to journal as I hear the whispers of God. This practice has made a big difference for me. Read + Listen + Journal.

Copyright: Sue Tell, May 2023

A simple and profound lesson!

Nature sparks a sense of wonder and inspires my personal dedication to God.

My friend, who loves watching birds as much as I do, recently bought a lovely new hand-crafted, rustic bird feeder for suet to compliment her existing feeders designed to hold seed.

She sent an email to me,  “The birds are back, but they are not feeding off the new feeder.” I found that interesting because where I live, I have the same bird feeder, filled with suet, and the birds come daily to feast on it.

Reflecting upon this, simple observation…I begin asking myself some questions…

Why would a beautiful hand-crafted bird feeder with fresh suet in it, not draw the birds in?

Could it be, the birds were so accustomed to the other two feeders, that they didn’t even notice the third feeder?

Could it be, they didn’t identify it as a feeder because it looked different?

Could it be, they feared trying something new?

Could it be, they would wait and see if others would go before them to check it out?

As I reflected, I gleaned a spiritual lesson from nature; I heard the voice of God.

At about the same time as those questions surfaced, I was facing a situation that was a daunting, overwhelming, and had the potential for major change.

I’m accustomed to the “what is”, the comfortable and familiar. I was not seeking change.  Yet it was personally right in front of me, challenging my landscape.

When life presents itself with a change, something new and out of the ordinary, I initially find myself responding …

Could it be, that the existing “what is”, has become too comfortable, established, reliable, and not daunting? The rules stay the same; I know how to function with the familiar.

Could it be, that this change — that I don’t think I want — might be for my good?

Could it be, there is fear in the potential change of all I have known?

Could it be that I want to be more assured and so I watch others in similar situations to see how they deal with change before I commit?

No matter how I answer these questions, I know God desires my growth and for me to lean into Him, depend on Him, and trust Him. He doesn’t want me to become complacent and stagnant in my familiar faith.

Like the birds, I too can be  intimidated by change; by the new. Do I really want what this new is offering?

The new feeder presented a challenge to the birds.

My possible new situation presented a challenge to me.

I was forced to consider …

When change is looming in my life, how should I respond?

Ignore and deny it.
Run from it.
Fear it.

Ignoring, denying, running, and fearing is my human response to challenges or the unknown. These emotions may serve a valuable purpose or they it can paralyze me and keep me from experiencing God in new and deeper ways.

My tendency most times, is to fear the uncertainties in life that come my way, the unknowns, the
newness of what might be. I hear those could it be questions.

I want my heart bent towards the Lord and to trust Him.

I’m learning that it is during these times of change that God breathes new life into us. He always has our best interest in mind, and always offers us the best to draw us closer to Him. If only I would  partake, and not be paralyzed by fear of  the new; something that might even be better than what I know now.

Then, I bet I would see God for who He really is, my loving and kind Father even in the midst of change.

I’m learning the joy of embracing God, embracing change.

And those little birds are learning it as well.

“So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Isaiah 41:10

Thank you again, Jennifer, my bird-loving friend. I bet many of us identify with your story. Your vulnerability ministers deeply.

 

Copyright: Jennifer Beckham, spring 2023

A few summers ago I found myself in rural Perthshire, quietly walking round a labyrinth painted onto an old green tennis court. I’d been asking the Lord for sustenance for the journey; a word or a phrase that I could hold close for the coming year. My mind was awash with the old song ‘Turn your eyes unto Jesus’ and I found myself mulling over the significance of where we place our sight.

When I arrived at the centre of the labyrinth, without really thinking about it, I placed my coat on the ground and lay down on my back. It was a grey day, but as I opened my eyes to the sky, I was blinded by the light. The sky is so very big, and lying there on that tennis court, I realised again that I am so very small..

Some moments float away with the wind, never to be thought of again, but that time on the tennis court those years ago has stayed with me. It wasn’t so much the idea that God (sky) is big, and I am small, though that’s a helpful perspective, rather the thought that followed. For in those still moments as I squinted my eyes so as not to be blinded by the light, one gentle freight-train of a thought settled on my mind: He’s already looking.

Wherever I find myself, whatever I’m doing, the very second I ‘turn my eyes unto Jesus’, I find that he’s already looking. I’m under his gaze. When I go about my work, he’s watching. When I burrow myself into a crime-thriller, he’s looking. Whenever and wherever I turn towards him, my Heavenly Father is poised, ready, to catch my eye. .

He’s ready, whether I turn or not. I’m always under his gaze

Why does that matter?

It matters because when we ‘fix our eyes on Jesus’ (Hebrews 12:2), we’re not just glaring into the abyss, hoping for the best. No, it’s deeper than that somehow, for the glancing of our eyes is profoundly relational.

The turning of the eyes may wordlessly say help. Or it might say wow, or thank you. It almost doesn’t matter why we turn our eyes, but the point is that we do. And in that sense each turning is an act of submission, a reorientation to the big sky: the big God who lives in unbearable light.

Further to that, though, the real significance of this turning is not in what it shows of our intentions, rather what it reveals of the intensity and purity of the gaze of love we meet when we do.

It is impossible for us to move out of the gaze of his love for us. Impossible. That means, when we stop to think about it, that every situation we find ourselves in is permeated by a broad shining spotlight of love, hope, truth and power.

The kitchen is a mess downstairs, some pans need a good scrub. I’m avoiding them by sitting up here gladly writing words that take my thoughts away from the domestic. But the reality is that as I descend the loft stairs in a few minutes, and set about remedying the pot encrusted with refried beans, I will do that under the gaze of the Creator. I will wipe surfaces under his gaze. There is no difference in his attentiveness to me in that domestic chore, and other seemingly more ‘noble’ pursuits eg prayer.

But how is my washing up changed when I’m mindful of the companionship of the Creator with me?

The answer is in the question.

The companionship of the Creator.

“Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.”
Psalm 139:7-8

Somehow everything changes when I have the source of all light, all hope, all joy, all goodness, staring at me with a ferocity of love that saw the stars flung into space, and a perfect God-man hung on a cross. I don’t think I’ve even begun to understand the implications of that; what it really means to live as one seen, and loved.

In these intervening years, as I have walked many solitary places, I’ve often found myself lying on the ground and feeling the gaze of the sky as I’m seen from above. I don’t need to lie down to remind myself of the Creator’s gaze, but I keep finding myself doing it. The sky is always up there, big and present, but sometimes we don’t see it unless we really choose to look.

Last week, as I take a short walk around our local river one lunchtime, a bed of autumn leaves catches my eye: so soft and inviting. This is not a secluded location, and mindful as I am of my daughters’ collective concern with my lack of self-consciousness, I check the distance of the nearest dog-walker and lie on my back in the sun.

Eyes heavenward, resting on the season’s fierce colours, I am seen.

I’m imbued with rays of love.

Surely it’s worth risking damp clothing to be reminded of that again.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus….and you’ll find you’re already under his gaze.

Thank you again Ros for sharing your words and your heart with us. I can’t wait to lay on the grass this summer, look up and be reminded that I’m always under God’s gaze.

Ros and her husband serve on the staff of The Navigators in Scotland. I’m blessed to call her my friend!

Copyright: Ros Boydell, November 2021

His words broke my heart.

The dream job turned out to be a nightmare.

The doctor called with an unexpected diagnosis.

The car came out of nowhere.

One minute life is peaceful and humming along, the next a storm rolls in without warning. The tested theology of my favorite hymns bolsters my faith in these unwanted trials.

I enjoy a good modern praise song, but on a particularly hard day, I turn to the rich verses and soothing cadence of a hymn. Maybe it is because I was raised singing hymns. Or it might be my “old soul” that my aging body is rapidly catching up with.

After turning on the music I turn to my art table to process life’s circumstances.

Tulips make my heart happy (and ready to murder any cute little furball that would try to eat them in my garden).

In my first attempt at “It is Well With my Soul” I included both the bloom and the bulb. The bloom reminds me of seasons when “peace like a river attendeth my way”. I wish those seasons lasted longer, just as I wish my tulips would never fade.

The bulbs are there too though. They represent the seasons where “sorrows like sea billows roll”.

Bulbs aren’t much to look at – they are kind of ugly – but oh, the potential.

I sit at my art table. I ponder, sing, paint, and groan over mistakes. An idea rolls around in my head from a writer about his Parkinson’s diagnosis. The disease itself is undeniably a bulb. He wrote of “pain redeemed” versus “pain removed“ and I wonder what this means.

Pain redeemed sounds hopeful. It sounds like potential good can come from this heartbreaking situation.

How do I redeem my pain and not just pray it will be removed?

How do I plant my ugly bulb and get the flower to come forth?

I know it involves waiting. Waiting, waiting and more waiting for Him to act.

“But for you, O Lord, do I wait;
it is you, O Lord my God, who will answer.”
Psalm 38:15

I know it involves believing spring will come, if not in this life, then the next.

“The last enemy to be destroyed is death.”
1 Corinthians 15:26

I know it involves relinquish. Opening my grasp to let go of the control I never really had and filling it instead with His strong, loving Hands.

“For I, the Lord your God,
hold your right hand;
It is I who say to you, ‘Fear not,
I am the one who helps you.’ “
Isaiah 41:13

Today, right now, it is taking that thing that worries me the most and every single time my mind turns it over, forcing my thoughts a new direction.

I review an encouraging scripture. This gives me a little more courage to relinquish. I thank God that He is in control.

I tell Him I trust Him, no matter the outcome.

I plead for healing, growth, and change.

I process at my art table with the hymns playing on repeat…I struggle to grow there too.

The first attempt felt too disconnected, and I was unhappy with my tulips.
The second one took hours to try and incorporate the writing on the right.  Breakthrough came after adding in the verse on the left to tie it together.

And finally, after an unwanted nudge from my art teacher to do a third painting, it ended up coming much more quickly when I thought I was just practicing on a scrap piece of paper.

In the last two paintings the bulb and bloom remain together. From the bulb comes the bloom. Pain redeemed and not just removed.

He is using the bulbs to change me from the inside out too. My faith is stronger. I’m closer to Him than before.

Pain redeemed indeed.

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Sherry Graf has served on staff with Collegiate Navs for 25 years. She loves exploring the mountains with her husband and 3 teen sons. In May she  “retired” from homeschool as her youngest enters high school. She has been published in Focus on the Family and Upper Room magazines and by NavPress. Her short discipleship sized booklet , “I Don’t Get You” gives young adults and married couples practical tools for emotionally healthy relationships . A new book is in the works combining her love of watercolor and faith called, Living Free and Unfettered: A guide to a Renewed Mind. She loves to encourage others to tap into their own creative side and using her art to creatively communicate the Gospel. You can find her author/artist pages on FB, Insta and her website sherrygraf.com 

Copyright: Sherry Graf, April 2023

PS. Sherry is my friend, and I love her water colors! I have a renewed desire to write short notes to friends because of her watercolors made into note cards.  Sue Tell

My friend Deb sketches during sermons. This is her sketch from April 30th.

The word, umbilical is defined …
1. of, relating to, or used at the navel.
2. of or relating to the central region of the abdomen.
3. being a necessary or nurturing link of connection. *** Think of this definition and ponder Deb’s sermon art.

A picture is worth 1000 words!!

“Depend on GOD and keep at it
because in the LORD GOD you have a sure thing.”
Isaiah 26:4, The Message

Copyright: Deb Entsminger, May 2023

Godly? Maybe not. But principled, scrupulous, and morally virtuous? Absolutely. Some of the best people in my life have not been professing Christians.

There, I said it.

Early on in a nearly fifty-year career in public education, I came to a humbling conviction which has never diminished: many of my non-Christian colleagues and friends are astonishingly good human beings – way better than I know I am.

They are more patient, caring, reasonable and even-tempered. More generous, courageous, and self-disciplined. I have seen them move with compassion toward the belligerent, the hurting, the unpopular or the hostile – those I would just as soon avoid — even as they tell me I’m not religious or I don’t believe in God. Where they have gotten their moral codes is beyond me, but they live by them.

They are faithful spouses, loving parents, and dedicated volunteers for causes that add to the shalom of our community. I love them.

Of course their goodness, like everyone else’s, is insufficient in the eyes of a holy and righteous God. But I cringe sometimes when my crowd gets careless with generalizations about people who do not share our beliefs. Our sniffy disapproval of the world may reinforce pride in being in the in-crowd, and it also tempts us to forget that our own salvation was not of our own doing. Our judgmental spirits show through in our attitudes and behaviors, making the gospel distinctly unattractive to a watching world.

We are living in difficult times. Paul’s description captures this well:

“. . .people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive,
disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous,
without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit,
lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God,
having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power.
Avoid such people.”
(2 Timothy 3:2-5)

Reading such a litany, my first inclination is to point fingers. “Those” people are the lovers of self,
money, and pleasure. “Those” people are abusive, unholy, and brutal. “Those” people are the heartless, treacherous ones. We should avoid them.

Except that some of “those” people might be me; might be us.

Some years ago I stumbled upon a reference to Disney Princess Theology, our tendency to see ourselves as the princess-heroine in every Bible story. We imagine ourselves as the beautiful, courageous Esther, never the arrogant, power-hungry Haman. We identify with Deborah the influential judge, not the rest of the people of Israel who “again did what was evil in the sight of the Lord.” We relate to Mary of Bethany, bringing her costly ointment to anoint the Lord, not the other disciples tsk-tsking about the monetary waste. We automatically associate ourselves with the commendable characters, oblivious to what Jesus said about hypocrisy:

“Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye,
but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?”
(Matthew 7:3).

Rereading the 2 Timothy passage, I find adjectives that sound suspiciously like me and my tribe. Proud. Arrogant. Slanderous.

We curate our social media profiles to show us at our best and attach pejoratives – like “stupid,” “ridiculous,” or worse — to the names of people or groups we disapprove of.

We share snarky Facebook memes or forward sensational emails without first fact-checking.

I am obviously sensitive to remarks painting all public school educators with the same disparaging brush, but I often fail to catch unfair generalizations about other groups; I am too busy clucking my agreement.

How quick we are to vilify “the world,” even when it includes decent citizens, doing the best they can. How quick we are to denounce the specks in others’ eyes.

In one of those moments when my Bible seemed to sprout a brand-new verse recently, I happened upon Paul’s admission that he himself, not being perfect, had to “strain forward. . . for the prize of the upward call of God.” Urging his readers to imitate his example, he writes:

“For many, of whom I have often told you
and now tell you even with tears [italics mine],
walk as enemies of the cross of Christ.”
(Philippians 3:18-19).

Far from sitting in self-righteous judgment, looking forward to the day when the enemies of the cross would get their just deserts, Paul sheds tears over their state.

He endured imprisonments, beatings, shipwrecks, hunger and thirst, cold and exposure, all to bring them the gospel.

Contemplating the fate of Jerusalem, which he called “the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it” (Luke 13:34), Jesus also shed tears.

“And when he drew near and saw the city,
he wept over it, saying,
‘Would that you, even you, had known on this day
the things that make for peace!”
(Luke 19:41-42a)

And shortly thereafter, he went to the cross to die for those selfsame sinners – and for hypocrites like me, like us. Would that we would follow his example, putting away our arrogance and pride to love our neighbors humbly, sacrificially, and unconditionally.

 

Copyright: Beth Cutter, May 2023

Beth is a good friend and neighbor. We met at church. If I were pressed to offer one adjective that describes Beth, it would be kind. Over the years I have seen her kindness lived out toward others, and I have personally experienced the gift of her kindness at many times and in many ways.

Thank you Beth for sharing your words on Echoes this week and next.

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At a birthday party recently, the honoree introduced us to a friend who had just moved to our state. “What brings you to Colorado?” someone asked. Her one-word answer, “God,” was not detailed enough for us. We pressed her for the backstory, which entailed not only a number of coincidental circumstances but also an experience where she heard an actual voice – from the back seat of her car as she was driving alone – surprising her by declaring “You need to move.”

As the new Colorado transplant went on, I started to wonder. I have never heard an audible,
disembodied voice of any kind, much less one I would identify as God’s, and I started to wonder. Whose experience was more common, hers or mine? And if the Lord ever did want me to do something out of the blue like that, could I expect him to tell me out loud?

From Genesis to Revelation, all kinds of people heard directly from the Lord in Bible times. He
interrogated Adam and Eve, instructed Abraham, directed Moses, and commissioned Joshua. He spoke directly to prophets and kings, to Job, Isaiah, David, Paul, Peter, and John. He spoke through angels or theophanies to Hagar, Jacob, Gideon, Daniel, Elijah, Joseph, Mary, and Zechariah. And – of course – God spoke through the person of Jesus Christ to the disciples and everyone else he encountered during his ministry on earth. “Lord,” I half-thought, half-prayed, “am I missing something?”

Here’s the thing about inquiries like that:

“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God,
who gives generously to all without reproach,
and it will be given him.”
(James 1:5, ESV)

Over the next several days, God answered me generously – not out loud, but through his word, through preaching and teaching, and through the input of godly friends.

I thought about Jesus, the incarnation of God’s word (John 1:14). Historical estimates of world
population say that between 170 and 400 million people were alive in the first century. Of those, only the fraction who happened to be in Galilee in the right places at the right times heard Jesus speak in person. Today we have 24/7 access to all four gospels – on our laptops, our phones, and in hard copy in dozens of translations. As John Piper 1 has observed, “We have the wholeness of the revelation that Jesus meant to communicate, and it is speaking to us every time we read the Bible.” We also know this:

“ . . . the word of God is living and active,
sharper than any two-edged sword,
piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow,
and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”
(Hebrews 4:12, ESV)

Reading the Bible has sometimes had that effect on me, stopping me dead in my tracks with a word, phrase, or passage that had never spoken to me that way before. The margins of my Bible are sprinkled with dates memorializing some of those sharp, piercing, and discerning experiences.

A missionary friend recounts the time she was praying about a change of assignments, one that would require her and her husband to move over 7,000 miles away from home. “I didn’t really want to go,” she says, “but I was reading Psalm 126 and felt the Lord saying, ‘This is for you’”:

“Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.”
(Psalm 126:5-6, NIV)

Today she recalls that call with joy – and, she says, with tears of gratitude for their eight years of fruitful ministry in that region.

Since the party guest’s anecdote about hearing God speaking aloud, I have asked around among other trusted Christian friends to see if they have had auditory experiences like hers. Almost all of them have said no. Many of them have admitted that they are cautious enough as it is about discerning the difference between that “still small voice” of God and their own thoughts. All of them, however, have been quick to add that they have had experiences where strong impressions have come to them while praying, or where previously-memorized verses or passages have come to mind at just the right time. That has happened to me, too – in a moment, as it happens, that also involved the back seat of a car.

Ten years ago, a catastrophic wildfire spread through the forested area where we live. I was alone in the house when the call came to evacuate. My first task had to be to remove the two bulky car seats I kept in the back seat of my car for our grandchildren (who were safely at their house) to make room for our dogs (who were anxiously circling my legs). The car seats were latched to hooks deep behind the back seat, and try as I might, I could not get those clips undone. I continued to strain and twist, sensing precious minutes ticking by, when suddenly my mind was filled with a passage I had never intentionally memorized, just read so often that it came flooding back. I didn’t hear an audible voice, but sure as anything I knew

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea. . . .”
(Psalm 46:1-2, ESV)

“Lord, I panted, “I need your very present help. I can’t get these latches to unhook!” And just like that, there was a click. The first latch released, and the second one followed. That unmistakable sense, that the Lord had brought just the right words to my mind and answered my prayer almost before it had left my lips, was all I needed in the hours and days that followed to be reassured that God was indeed my refuge and strength.

Reflecting on my evening at the birthday party and my half-question/half-prayer “Am I missing
something?” I believe the answer is No. In his second letter to Timothy, Paul teaches:

“All Scripture is God-breathed [given by divine inspiration]
and is profitable for instruction,
for conviction [of sin], for correction [of error and restoration to obedience],
for training in righteousness
[learning to live in conformity to God’s will, both publicly and
privately—behaving honorably with personal integrity and moral courage];
so that the man of God may be complete and proficient,
outfitted and thoroughly equipped for every good work”
(2 Timothy 3:16-17, Amplified).

In a sermon a few weeks back on going where the Spirit leads you, my pastor talked about the number of young people who come to him asking how they can discern God’s will for their lives. “The short answer,” he said, “is that most of it is written down.”

If I never hear God’s audible voice, I still have the word he breathed right here on my desk – and on my laptop and on my phone – equipping me for every good work. If only I will study and listen to it, the instruction, conviction, correction and training he provides is more than enough.

1 https://www.desiringgod.org/interviews/should-we-listen-for-the-audible-voice-of-god

Copyright, Beth Cutter, May 2023

“Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this,
that the spirits are subject to you,
but rejoice
that your names are written in heaven.”
Luke 10:20 (italics mine)

Jesus is speaking to the 72 disciples. They are filled with joy because of their doing. It was all good — the kingdom of God was advancing; people were being set free from demonic oppression.

But Jesus offers a correction. Their joy should not reside in what they do; their joy should reside in who they are, their identity.

I can be like those 72 finding joy in my doing. But sometimes my experiences often leave joy lacking, unsatisfied. That joy is misplaced.

When I find my joy lacking, it is a yellow flashing light.

Recently I found my joy lacking in what I perceived as a ministry opportunity. Why were the relationships taking so long? Do they want a relationship? Do they not realized the wisdom I have to offer? Do you hear the pride? UGH!

Lies are self-limiting beliefs reinforced by the filters through which I see life.
Lies tend to control and manipulate.

There are certain lies that entrap and manipulate me. My filter tends to be that my worth is determined by my doing. Not so! But, I’m susceptible. The same lies keep popping up in new situations. The new situations call for new applications of truth.

In my devotions, I often look at those lies and the truth that counteracts them. As I pray, God, what does it look like to trust truth in this situation, I hear the truths in new light.

In that recent situation, God reminded me of joy. Luke 10:20 came to mind and Jesus’ admonition became personal. Sue, where is your joy, in your doing or in your identity?

Jesus endured the cross for the joy of a relationship with me, with you. Hebrews 12:2
The angel’s message to Mary was described as good news of great joy. Luke 2:10
God rejoices in our identity like the metaphor of a bridegroom and a bride. Isaiah 62:5
John the Baptist knew his joy was like that of the one who stands with the groom. John 3:29

Over and over the message is clear, rejoice in my relationship with God, my identity as a beloved child — not in my doing!

“These feelings, strong as they may be, are not telling me the truth about myself.
The truth, even though I cannot feel it right now, is
that I am the chosen child of God, precious in God’s eyes,
called the beloved from all eternity, and held safe in an everlasting embrace.”
Henri J.M. Nouwen

Sometimes my emotions have a hard time lining up with truth. For myself, I KNOW I need to regularly bring those lies that are feeding the feelings into the light and apply the salve of truth! I (we) need to receive truth from God. I need to rejoice in my identity.

Copyright: Sue Tell, April 2023