3 Ways to Learn to Discern the Voice of God

It’s a typical Sunday morning. Our little family is moving through our routine of dropping off our son in his nursery classroom and hurrying down the hall to our connection class. We spend the hour learning about God and each other, and I fight the urge to pop my hand up in a Hermione-esque style at each question posed by our teacher. From this sunburst corner of the building, we’ll move toward the sanctuary for the sermon.

I spend the morning listening to the sounds of turning pages, pens scratching, and conversation mingling in the air. I listen to the teacher guide us through his lesson, challenging us with his questions. I listen to the voices of friends give summaries of their week, both good and exhausting. I listen to my husband’s whispered words in my ear. I listen to the worship band’s music pulsate the vibrating air. I listen to my pastor convey the message God placed on his heart with a passionate fervor. Sunday mornings surround me in a loud cocoon of noise which leaves, surprisingly, little room to listen for and discern the voice of God.

It’s a Loud World

In our modern world we hear messages shouted at us every day, or at least, spoken in at high volume. Whether it’s the words themselves or the underlying message, you don’t need to go far to hear someone’s opinion. It’s no wonder we expect God to speak in His booming, powerful voice of the Old Testament. The art of speaking powerfully at lower volume is one with which many are unfamiliar. Have you ever noticed when listening to a skillful speaker, when they reach the climax of their lesson their voice grows quieter and quieter? Yes, some powerful words are shouted from pulpits and microphones and social media, but we forget God’s most powerful spoken words weren’t shouts, they were whispers.

“We expect a trumpet and a triumphant entry, but as always, God surprises us by showing up in ordinary things: in bread, in wine, in water, in words, in sickness, in healing, in death, in a manger of hay, in a mother’s womb, in an empty tomb.” –Rachel Held Evans, Searching For Sunday

As our holy days of worship, Sundays are often the day we set aside for putting away the work of our hands, for sabbath rest, for focusing our attention on the Father. However, often our Sundays are anything but restful. Getting the whole family up and out the door for church is, by itself, a feat. Spending your allotted five to ten minutes with your friends, playing in the orchestra, singing in the choir, opening doors to welcome parishioners, operating the lights, simply being awake enough to communicate and look somewhat decent. Let’s not even mention the grocery shopping, meal preparation, or laundry.

During the week it’s normal to hold our schedules loosely, ready to pivot. We expect distractions to crop up on other days of the week, but Sundays are sneaky in their distractions. One moment we’re listening to a well-prepared, well-delivered sermon, and the next moment, we’re fighting to stay awake, the coffee from before church losing its effect. One moment, we’re picking up groceries and carrying armloads of them inside, full of energy, and the next, we feel the weariness of the day creep through our limbs, filling them with lead.

Listening for God’s still, small voice, like learning to ride a bike, takes time and practice. When I first learned to ride a bike, I stayed outside for hours until I found the delicate balance needed to propel the bike forward. Learning to discern God’s voice is no different. If we don’t spend any time trying to hear His voice, we won’t ever hear it. Three ways we can learn to hear God’s voice are through developing rhythms attuning ourselves to God’s voice, intentionally entering into communion with God, and cultivating habits of rest.

A Rhythm-Living Mindset

I’ve written about rhythm-living a little bit already, and you can read about that here and here. Most people go about their day using a schedule. At 6 a.m. I’m up with a cup of coffee, my bible, and my journal. At 7 a.m. I shower and get ready for the day. At 7:30 a.m. I or my husband get our son up out of the crib. Your schedule may be much less rigid, or you might say you don’t live by one at all. Whether you call it a schedule or a routine is not the point here. The point is there is a noticeable pattern to your day. There are certain times set aside for certain activities.

By adopting a rhythm-living mindset, you can invite God into the small moments of your day between activities. As I rise from bed and move into the kitchen to get my coffee, I ask God to open my heart to His word and His nudgings. As I move from my desk to the bathroom, I thank God for giving me the ability to get up so early to meet with Him and pray over other requests. As I move from the bedroom into the chaos of cooking breakfast and keeping our son out of the cat litter, I pray God will give me the strength I need for the day, the foundational love I need for my son and the many interruptions he’ll give me.

Intentional Communion

You’ve probably heard this called by many names: quiet time, meditation or prayer, bible study, or journaling. What you call it isn’t as important as your attitude going into this intentional space. This is our way of growing closer with God and growing accustomed to hearing His voice. The more we hear the more we’ll be able to recognize when He speaks.

For me, this looks like beginning my day quiet, quieting my soul, quieting my mind. I begin by lighting a candle to ground myself in the moment. Reading my bible is next, whether it’s a book I’m moving through on my own or one I’m reading in preparation for group bible study. I always begin here. Next, I choose a verse or a few verses which spoke specifically to me or stood out in some way, and I write them in my journal. After selecting a verse or two as my focus, I write about a paragraph, sometimes more, reflecting on the verse, and then I move transition into what’s on my mind that morning. Last, I read a nonfiction book for 15-20 minutes, before praying my way back to the bathroom to get ready.

Your intentional communion with God might look very different than mine. You might set aside time in the afternoon or evening, instead of the morning. Rather than a mixture of reading and writing, perhaps you simply sit in God’s presence, ears perked and listening. Maybe you use a guided journal, a devotional book or an app on your phone, or go for a morning walk. As I said before, it is much less about the actual steps you take during this time and much more about the posture of your heart as you enter this holy ground.

Cultivate Habits of Rest

In her book Invitation to Solitude and Silence, Ruth Haley Barton describes her journey beginning a practice of entering into solitude and silence and explains how it can dramatically change our relationship with God. But it’s not always so easy to do.

“In solitude I make the frustrating discovery that often my mind keeps me flailing around rather than settling into rest in God. I begin to notice all the ways my mind distracts me from the very thing my soul is longing for, the experience of rest, union and communion with God.” –Ruth Haley Barton, Invitation to Solitude and Silence

When I’m given a blessed sweet silence moment all to myself, what I thought would be simple sitting in this quiet moment turns into my brain doing anything it can to banish the quiet, to squelch this precious time alone. Without giving it a single thought, I pick up my phone and scroll through Instagram or play a game. My brain prompts me to engage in activities that appear to offer rest but serve simply to numb me to my feelings and to God. Filling up the silence pushes us farther and farther away from God but sitting in the uncomfortable silence loosens our emotional and spiritual muscles to relax in His presence.

Uncomfortable Silences

We all know the importance of listening for God in our lives, but sometimes we simply don’t know how to do it. We don’t know what sitting in God’s presence looks like and we feel foolish when we try. When I think about sitting in the uncomfortable silence, of acclimating myself to God’s presence, I think of my almost two-year-old son trying to step down on the stair. He holds onto the railing holding a tentative foot over the open air of the step, and his eyes search for mine, questioning. I reassure him I’m right here, holding my hands near his little body but not touching. After the hesitation passes and his courage builds, he takes the step. Wobbling and catching his balance, he looks back at me, smiling at his bravery.

Photo by Wes Hicks on Unsplash