Archives For Hearing God

When I was thirteen years old, I had an “experience” of God. It happened in a small, circular prayer meeting with about twenty other teenagers.

I began to shake. Every nerve waiting and prayingseemed electrified, hyper alert, or aware. I felt alive and bubbling over, a kind of euphoria. I sat, I shook, and then I prayed, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” The experience lasted for close to an hour.

I wasn’t sure what had happened. But I liked it. I asked God for more of it. In prayer times and prayer meetings I’d pray, “Anoint me again; let me soak in that some more.” But that exhilaration didn’t come back very often.

Let’s skip ahead forty years to last week. I had just returned from a retreat. I was tired and perhaps a bit crabby. The next morning something happened again. I felt stirred and moved. I somehow sensed the reality of God.

My prayer time lasted four hours.

But this experience was different     Continue Reading…

In The Princess Bride, the criminal genius Vizzini repeatedly and inappropriately exclaims, “Inconceivable.” His partner Inigo Montoyo finally reflects, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Like that criminal genius, Christians use religious jargon repeatedly and inappropriately. Sometimes I want to respond, “I do not think it means what you think it means.

I struggle with the phrase, “wrestling with God.” Christians use it to arm_wrestlingdescribe an intentional long night of interceding with God. The phrase refers to Jacob wrestling with God (Gen. 32:22-31). We use it the wrong way; I want to reply, “Stop saying that!”

I used to work in a ministry with a man who loved the phrase. If the finances were low, he’d demand an evening bout of wrestling with God. When the congregation failed to follow the message, he’d insist on an upper room experience battling with God.

My friend used the phrase as though we needed to get God’s attention, as though we needed to place a shot over God’s bow. We’d argue with God, make our pitch, and try to persuade him of our plans. Maybe we’d fast or lie prostrate.

It reminded me of the priests of Baal as they cut themselves on Mt. Carmel (1 Kings 18). I wish I’d said to my friend, “I do not think it means what you think it means.

It may sound noble or heroic, but an African American preacher understood it better when he preached, “Your arm’s too short to box with God!” Continue Reading…

My kids and I used to have a small Lionel train set in a corner of my tool room. Ten years ago we dismantled the small set with dreams of a bigger and better train set in a newly created basement room called the Train Room.

We dreamed of the perfect train layout with switches, freight yards, and realistic scenery; with a moving crane, sawmill, draw-bridge, and coal dump; and with cities, tunnels, mountains, and farms. It would fill the new 15 by 18 foot Train Room.

Our quest for perfection derailed us. We dreamt of glory, and for ten years we did nothing. We ran out of steam. The Train Room became the junk room, a closet in which to hide things that belonged nowhere else.

Dad - train setIt also stored the dusty train set that we dismantled ten years ago.

The day before Christmas, my kids suggested we re-assemble the train set in the new Train Room. We cleared the “closet” out (never mind where all that junk went), we put the table up, we rewired the accessories, and we set the trains back on track once again.

It was a blast. Doing something adequately was far better than doing nothing perfectly.

Continue Reading…

I used to be a partner and employee of a successful software company. Eight years ago I heard God tell me to leave it. But he didn’t tell me where to go.

I asked five friends for help. We met and prayed together monthly for a year. In the end we all agreed I should leave; and we had no idea where I should go.

So I left the company and prayed more earnestly for direction. In fact I pleaded.

I heard nothing. Silence.

Have you ever felt this same desperate desire for God’s direction, longing for a word?

Let me tell you what God did for me. Continue Reading…

Years ago I worked with a man who had an insatiable desire to impress. When he gave presentations, he never used a one-syllable word when a four-syllable word was at hand (or at least on the shelf). When he told me of his client visits, he eulogized his eloquence and waxed lyrical about his wisdom.

Self-acclaim obscured clarity; self-admiration overshadowed expression; and self-tribute was always the topic. When he did something well, he made sure you knew it.

You may know someone like him.

I’m not sure what got me thinking about him today, but my mind kept replaying past scenes of his self-praise.

Later on I read the story of the prophet Nathan addressing King David after David’s adultery. Nathan tells the story of a rich man with many flocks stealing a poor man’s deeply beloved and only lamb. David was enraged at the injustice. Then Nathan said,

Thou art the man” (2 Samuel 12:7, KJV).

As I thought of my impression-needy friend, I heard God say, “Sam, Thou art the man” It was an arrow in the heart. (You’ve got to hear it in King James English) Continue Reading…

Several readers raised questions in response to, I Long for a Calling Driven church. The key questions (so far) are:

  • What does it look like to “hear” God through the people God sends?
  • How do we balance a need for Structure with following our Calling?
  • How do we balance caring for the needy with following our Calling?

Before answering these questions, let me put some meat on the bones of a Calling Driven church. A Calling driven church will balance structure and Calling.*

A Calling Driven church is neither a spineless jellyfish, so under-whelmed by structure that it is driven by the tides (and stings whatever it finds), nor is it a backbone-entombed tortoise, so over-whelmed by structure that its moves are ponderously slow (and it hides from whatever it finds). We need structure and Calling.

Hearing God through the people that he sends

When we seek God for direction, he sometimes answers with a word (like when he tells Abraham to leave his homeland), and he sometimes answers … with a person.

  • King Saul asks God for direction. God answers by sending a person. Jonathan attacks the enemy—almost single handedly—until Saul’s army joins him in a huge victory (1 Samuel 14). Saul wanted a word; God sent a person.
  • When the Israelites are threatened under Persian rule, God sends Esther. She is “brought for such a time as this” (Esther 4:14), and she saves God’s people from annihilation. God’s answer is given through the Call of a person.

Good leaders are aware of structural needs, and they seek God for help with staffing, finances, people, and buildings. But obsession with known needs can distract us from—even blind us to—God’s new directions which may be outside our agendas.

God often answers our requests for help by sending people who see God’s direction outside our known needs, structure-oriented agendas, or even outside our missions:

  • The 12th century Church leaders were concerned with the Crusades, a Renaissance, rediscovery of Aristotle, and science. God sent them Francis of Assisi.  He brought return to simplicity, imitation of Christ, and care for the poor.

Pastoral leaders need to recognize God’s answers when he speaks on issues outside our known needs and missions. If we ignore God’s answers through the people he sends—myopically focused on our own issues—we become tortoises, overcome by structure.

God brings us people who bring us directions we never knew we needed. Continue Reading…

A couple of weeks ago Christians celebrated the Ascension of Jesus. Do you ever wonder why we celebrate the Ascension? I understand celebrating the birth of Jesus, and his resurrection, and even his death on a cross (if we understand what it means). But his Ascension? Yet after his Ascension, the disciples “returned … with great joy” (Luke 24:51). They celebrated the Ascension.*

When I was about ten years old, my father taught me how to sail our small sailboat. He taught me how to capture the wind, how to steer with a tiller, and how to “right” the sailboat when it capsized.

One day after another sail together, my father looked at me and said, “Go on, take her out by yourself.” The wind was rather strong; the waves were rather large; and my mother was rather terrified. I loved it. I took the boat out alone. The wind blew splashes in my excited face. I was a ten-year-old boy alone on the sea; I was Captain Hook, Christopher Columbus, and Sir Francis Drake all rolled into one.

That was one of the most memorable days of my mere ten years of existence. I still delight in the memory.

What does the Ascension have to do my solo sail? Well, quite a bit, actually. As I’ve reflected on the Ascension, here is what God is saying to me. Continue Reading…

I’m discovering that meditation is one of the most powerful ways to hear God. No, “powerful” isn’t a strong enough word. Meditation may be the most profound, deep, life-changing, heart-enriching way to hear God.

But there is a problem. I picture meditation—maybe you do too— as something kind of weird. It’s a person dressed in leotards sitting in an awkward position humming nonsensical syllables, emptying the mind, thinking of “one hand clapping.” It’s the mystic or the desert monk escaping from reality. It seems totally disconnected from real life.

But everyone is a meditation expert. We meditate all the time. We don’t know it because we call it something else, and we slip into it accidentally. Continue Reading…

Thirty years ago I lived and worked in London with several other men. We were involved in campus ministry and the charismatic renewal. One housemate—let’s call him Tom—spent a couple hours in discussion with Rev. John Stott. When Tom returned from his visit, he was incredulous.

During Tom’s meeting, they discussed prayer. Stott claimed that his most significant times of prayer involve prayerful reflection with God. As a charismatic, Tom preferred exuberant worship with contemporary songs and praying in the Spirit.

We considered Stott’s “prayer” of reflection to be too intellectual, too shallow, too unenlightened, and perhaps unspiritual. We chuckled.

In fact, I’d say we snickered.

By the end of his life, Time Magazine identified Stott as one of the 100 most influential people in the world; he had written over 50 books; and he had helped hundreds of thousands—perhaps millions—of people. And we twenty-something neophytes snickered at his shallowness.

Thirty years later, I’m rethinking spiritual reflection, and I’m finding it rich. Stott was oh-so-very right, and I—once again—was oh-so-very wrong. Spiritual reflection is one of the deepest ways to connect with God that I’ve ever experienced.

I love to brainstorm, to whiteboard ideas, and to creatively go after innovative thoughts. I love doing this with friends for practical decisions, so I tried it with God.

I find I love it. Spiritual reflection is moving me closer to God, and I’m hearing his voice. Continue Reading…

In 1989 the company I worked for was dying; it was losing money like the prodigal son, it had a two-year sales drought, and our owner—though previously successful—was out of cash. The company asked me to demonstrate our software to one of our prospective clients. Actually, our only prospective client. If we didn’t land this deal, we were out of business and I was out of a job.

The night before the demo the client’s consultant Jerry invited me to dinner. He said our competitors had bungled their demos by wasting half of their time showing “cool” features that the client didn’t need. And when the client said they weren’t interested in such functionality, our competitors ignored their requests, and continued showing off the coolness of this or that particular feature.

Jerry went on to say that our competitors had failed because they wouldn’t yield control of the conversation to the client. The competitors thought they knew what was needed, while in fact only the client knew what was needed. Jerry suggested I begin my demo by asking the client to describe their needs. And then he suggested that I use the rest of the presentation to show solutions to their needs. I did. They liked it. We got the deal. And I kept my cubicle.

What does demoing software and controlling conversations have to do with hearing God?

Everything. Continue Reading…