Second Guessing Yourself About Hearing God

'praying' photo (c) 2009, Ronald Repolona - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

I recently read an article where the author was arguing that often it’s only when looking back that she can see how God had faithfully led her, and I agree. She says:

It’s usually easier for me to see in hindsight that God was guiding me. Is that the way it works for you? I find it’s like climbing a steep cliff. I feel the strained muscles, the shortness of breath, the sweat on my brow. Then I pause, turn, and look back.

The view fills me with astonishment. Oh, I can see where he was with me, how he guided me and protected me. How surely he watched over my steps! What dangers he led me around! There were hints of his voice, which I saw dimly then, but now they sparkle like jeweled lakes in the light of the alpine sun.

I’m like that, too. It’s not always as I’m walking forward that I hear God. It’s often when I take time to stop and think and then I see how He was telling me things.

That’s often the case with my writing. I’ll pray and pray and ask God to show me something I should talk about in a book, and nothing will come. And then one day, I’ll sit down and a book proposal will flow right out of me, and I’ll wonder where it came from. And then I look back and I can see all the different people He put into my life, the radio snippets I heard, the newspaper articles that got me thinking, and the Bible passages that held me captive that started my thinking in a certain direction. But it’s not until afterwards that it all comes together.

I think we misunderstand what God’s voice is supposed to sound like. There are a few times in my life when I have actually heard God speak to me. They were very specific things at very important junctures in my life. But there were 3 times in total when I heard specific words. Other than that, God gently guides us in all sorts of ways.

So often we’re waiting for a thunderbolt, and we feel paralyzed until it comes. But I think we need to walk forward in faith, knowing that God will steer us.

When our son was sick, my husband agonized about certain medical decisions we might be forced to make. What if we had to choose between surgery and just letting him go (if surgery would be horrific for him, and likely have little impact?) Should we put him on the heart transplant list? What should we do? He didn’t want to do the wrong thing, and he was so desperately trying to hear God.

Bolton Cliffs Climbing (Sep. '08)Image by found_drama via Flickr

Our minister took us aside and said very firmly to Keith, “If God has a specific path He wants you to take, who is most invested in you figuring that out? God or you?”

“God,” Keith admitted.

“Then don’t you think He’s big enough to show you when the time is right?”

That minister was right. If God has something specific He wants you to do, He will show you. What we need to do, I think, are two things:

1. Walk forward, as much as we can, in His Spirit. Read the Word, do what we know is right, and pray.

2. Take some time to listen and think. Let God guide you. Take some time to look back over the last few weeks or months and see where you have already been. Look around you. Open your eyes. Don’t let life pass you by so quickly.

God does speak, and He does lead us, but often we miss it because it doesn’t usually do it audibly. He does it gently, and unless we take those times to look, we’ll miss the wonder of what has happened in our lives.

Don’t beat yourself up if you’re having trouble hearing God’s voice. I think He wants you to press ahead anyway, and if you need to make a U-turn, He’ll tell you. Just make sure you always have time to listen and look. That’s when you’ll see the patterns of what He is already doing and where He is already leading, which we often miss in the busy-ness of our lives.

 

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When Are You a Grown Up?

'Graduated!' photo (c) 2010, Ralph Daily - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

It has taken me a long time to feel like I’m actually a grown up.

I thought I’d feel like I was a grown up when I got married, but I didn’t.

I thought I’d feel it when I had kids, but I didn’t.

But sometime in the last decade I have crossed a line. I don’t know where it was, but I am now a grown-up. And I’m trying to figure out how I define it. I might turn this into a column, but here are some of the things that make me feel grown up.

I knew I was a grown up with men when I could stop asking, “Does he like me?”, and start asking, “Do I like him?”.

I knew I was a grown up when I could begin to make a recipe without a recipe book and without worrying whether it was how my mother-in-law would make it.

I was a grown up when I stopped worrying what other people thought of my children’s behaviour and just concentrated on being the best mom I could be.

I was a grown up when I started taking better care of myself, like caring what I looked like again and not just hiding the earrings in the drawer because I couldn’t figure out how to wear them when the kids liked to pull on them. When I started prioritizing feeling good in my body, I felt like a grown up.

I was a grown up when I called my mom for her advice, and not her approval.

I was a grown up when I could calmly talk to a salesperson about what their establishment had done that was beyond the pale, instead of letting them walk all over me.

I knew I was a grown up when I could start looking at other people’s kids and at teens and telling them what I honestly thought instead of being intimidated into worrying that I’d be labelled “the mean mom”.

I knew I grew up when the fact that my father didn’t understand me became a cause for pity for him, rather than for angst, anger, or introspection on my behalf.

I was a grown up when I started letting myself dream dreams, instead of living out the dreams of my mother, or my other family members.

I felt like a grown up when I could pray with other women in my church, even older ones, and feel like I could offer some counsel.

I felt like a grown up when I acted like others were my equals, instead of feeling insecure around those who were of higher rank or status than I was. Once I realized that didn’t matter, I knew I had grown up.

I felt like a grown up when I could see someone and have a conversation and not remember until the next day that I was supposed to be mad at them. I guess I don’t carry grudges anymore.

I knew I was a grown up when I could ask people over for dinner and not worry about whether they’d like what I made. I’d just cook what I liked, and figured everybody else would make do.

And I know I’m a grown up now that I can admit my faults to other people rather than trying to pretend to be perfect. I know now that there’s no point in pretending.

And I feel like a grown up now because I’m realizing that this isn’t my life; the next life is my real life. This is only preparation. So I think I can let go of things a lot easier now and not worry so much what other people think.

What about you? Do you feel like a grown up, or do you still struggle with it? What makes you a grown up? Please leave a comment! I’d love to know!

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Marley and Me: Restlessness vs. Peace

This weekend, over two nights, my husband and I watched Marley & Me. Cute movie, not stupendous or anything, but good enough. It gets better towards the ending.

Of course, my husband was only watching the movie because he was hoping to spend quality time with me so that we would do something OTHER than watch a movie, and it was a LOOONG movie. By the end Keith was saying to himself, “Die, already, dog. Just die!” Because really, the dog did take a long time to go.

But the point wasn’t the dog. The point of the movie, which is based on a true story, was one man’s search for peace and happiness.

Throughout the show he makes all the right choices. He marries; he gets a good job; he tries hard at that job to support his family; he has children. Of course, he gets a dog. But despite making these right choices he’s restless. He always feels that the grass is greener on the other side.

I’m not saying he wanted to have an affair; that never entered the movie at all. It’s just that when the normal problems come with life, they drag him down. When the babies are young and difficult, and his wife is hormonal and difficult, he wonders if this is really what he wanted. And he wonders that throughout the movie. He ends up quitting his job as a columnist because what he really wanted was to be a reporter. So he becomes a reporter.

But once he takes that job something inside him changes. He understands that it’s not about what you want or dream about; it’s about what you are. And he is a columnist. He is a father. He is a husband. And by the end of the movie he’s made peace with that.

It’s funny, because on the same evening we also watched Karate Kid with the kids. I’m not sure it was the best move; too much teenage dating for my taste compared to what we’re trying to teach our kids, but a good movie nonetheless. (There is swearing, if you don’t remember, so think before showing it to your own). But I’m reminded about how many movies in the 80s depicted broken families and the ugly side of life. No matter how much we complain about Hollywood these days, there are movies that depict the nuclear family in a good way, and this is one of them.

Anyway, the point that I took home, and that I want to talk about, is this idea that we can make all the right choices for all the right reasons and still not feel peace. Have you ever been there? You know kids were part of the plan. You know that you’re supposed to be married. But you’re restless. I spend my life being restless (though more about my vocation than about my kids).

Some people are more prone to restlessness than others. And restlessness is not necessarily a bad thing, or a sin, or something that you need to be ashamed of. Some of us are idea people, and our heads are filled with all the other things we could, or even should, be doing. It doesn’t mean that we aren’t called here, or aren’t satisfied with what we have. It’s just that we can’t shut off that part of our brain which keeps seeing different things to spend our energy on. And there’s only so much time in the day, so we’re forever feeling like failures. This isn’t what we were meant to do.

But maybe it is. All that dreaming isn’t a waste; there may be times when you can fulfill some of those plans. For right now, though, we have to look and say, “is this where I’m supposed to be?”. It may not be part of the plan I had for my life. Maybe I thought I’d be further ahead by now. Maybe I thought I’d be married differently, or have more (or fewer!) kids. Maybe I thought I’d live somewhere else, have my own house, be financially stable. But it doesn’t matter what you thought. The point is, for right now, is this where you’re supposed to be? Is this what you’re supposed to be doing?

God doesn’t measure your life by how much you lived up to your plans. He measures your life by whether you’re living for Him in the little things. And what I’ve had to do to turn off those voices is not just take it a day at a time, but an hour at a time, and ask God, “is this what You want me to do for this hour?” And I’m starting to realize that it is.

You see, I have dreams that I should have written another book this year, or started back up at my radio program, or done more for Africa. And I feel restless about these things. But when I start going to God and saying, “Okay, Lord, for this hour, what should I be doing?”, and I realize I should be putting dinner in the crockpot, or teaching my kids math, or even taking some time to knit, then it’s quite clear I didn’t have time to write that book. And that’s okay. I don’t need to be restless.

I can dream, and maybe those dreams will come to fruition one day. But I need to find my peace here, and I can’t do that unless I’m going to God and keeping up with Him about His priorities on a day to day, hour by hour basis. It may sound anal, always asking God, “is this it? Is this it?” But if I don’t, I waste time. And I also feel unsatisfied. When I stay in contact, I spend my time better, and I’m more at peace with my choices.

Peace doesn’t automatically come from making the right choices. It only comes when we learn to live, day by day, within the parameters of those choices. And for that, I think, we need God.

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