Listening to God
The most alarming thing about praying to God and listening for His response has been discovering that He really does answer.
It would be so much easier if He didn’t, or at least not so clearly. I mean, I’m a relatively new Christian. Don’t I need to get some practice speaking to Him first? Don’t I need to get a few years of church attendance under my belt before He calls me to do His work?
Evidently not.
The thing is, it makes sense.
If He were an inaccessible God, a divine watchmaker, then I might expect that He’d keep out of messy things like my life and work. I could go about my business, offering prayer and otherwise going on as usual, and He’d go about his business of being ineffable and transcendent. But that’s not the personal God of the Bible, who became flesh and walked among us. Knowing that the Incarnation is real, it makes sense that He is involved in my life – even my life, mine, that lacks any merit to deserve His attention.
If Christianity were about having “religious experiences,” about having “spiritual feelings,” then I might expect that it would take some time to learn how to get those experiences. I might need to model myself after other, more advanced people who’ve already had those experiences, so that I could learn how to make it work for me too. But that’s not what it’s about. Knowing that the Son of God died on the cross for our sins and rose again on the third day, means knowing that following Christ isn’t about having nice “spiritual experiences”; it’s about life – and death, death to the old self.
I came to Christ not knowing how to obey – but knowing that I must; not knowing how to trust – but wanting to; not knowing how to listen – but needing to.
If God were not real, if He were an idea, a pleasant concoction designed to give Christians a sense of comfort, then I would still be struggling, still trying to hear some word of guidance. But He is real – He is the God who gave His Son to us – and so is it any wonder that He listens, even to a stubborn and wary ex-atheist? I’ve asked Him to teach me how to listen; knowing He is God, why should I be surprised that I, then, hear Him?
And when I do listen to Him, it should come as no surprise that the voice of the true and living God is often challenging, that He speaks the word I need to hear rather than the one I want to hear. When I’m in prayer, it would be much more comfortable to gloss over my sins in a quick confession, rather than feeling that gentle but firm push to reflect a little more closely and recognize the unkind word spoken, the convenient oversight, the prideful self-absorption indulged. Having confessed in genuine repentance, it would be easier to not hear the still, small voice telling me that I need to apologize, and not tomorrow, not some other time, but now. (Yeah, He knows perfectly well that I can send an email at midnight, tired though I might be, rather than waiting for the next day.)
I have asked Him to help me follow Him; why should I be surprised that He chooses to give that help? It’s not my place to say that I’m not worthy enough, experienced enough, faithful enough to do His work – it’s He who calls. It’s crazy – but it makes sense, because He is real, and He is God.
Ask and it will be given to you… I have asked. He has taken me at my word, even when I didn’t understand the implications of what I was asking.
A year ago, I found myself deeply moved by NT Wright’s commentary on Matthew 14:23-22, Jesus’ feeding of the five thousand. This, Wright says, is what Jesus does with our lives: we offer Him what little we’ve got, knowing it’s not nearly enough, and He takes it, breaks it, and gives it back to us to use in His service, to do more than we ever imagined possible. As Wright explains, in a passage from Matthew for Everyone that’s worth quoting at length:
This is how it works whenever someone is close enough to Jesus to catch a glimpse of what he’s doing and how they could help… We offer, uncomprehendingly, what little we have. Jesus takes ideas, loaves and fishes, money, a sense of humor, time, energy, talents, love, artistic gifts, skill with words, quickness of eye or fingers, whatever we have to offer. He holds them before his father with prayer and blessing. Then, breaking them so they are ready for use, he gives them back to us to give to those who need them. And now they are both ours and not ours. They are both what we had in mind and not what we had in mind. Something greater and different, more powerful and mysterious, yet also our own. It is part of genuine Christian service, at whatever level, that we look on in amazement to see what God has done with the bits and pieces we dug out of our meagre resources to offer to him.
And so the prayer I have offered regularly over the past year has been this: Break me, Lord, and make me a tool for Your hands; put me to work in Your service. The more I have offered it up, the more I recognize that I don’t – and can’t – understand what I’m asking for; and the more certain I am that I do want to serve and obey Him whatever the cost may be. I have felt a growing awe and not a little fear as I ask this, because I see how He has already begun to work in my life, and I am asking Him to continue, no matter whether I’m ready or not. NT Wright adds, at the end of his commentary on the feeding of the five thousand, “If you sense a call to follow [Jesus], to share his compassion, to give him what you have so that it can be used in his service, you must remember that it cost him everything as well.” So I have had to ask Him, too, to help me trust in Him along the way, to give me the strength to obey Him even when I feel anxious and unready.
Because when I hear Him, what can I do, what can I possibly do, but obey?
Jesus turned to Matthew and said simply, “Follow Me.” There was no need to say more.
It would be so much easier, so much more conventional, so much easier to explain, if I could ease into serving Him a little at a time. It would be easier if I could dismiss His call to do His work as my own imagination. It would be more comfortable if I could cultivate a private spirituality that didn’t make me change my life.
But when I fall on my knees in prayer, overcome with awe, fear, and joy, I recognize that who I am doesn’t matter; what matters is who He is making me to be. I don’t pretend to understand why He has chosen to work the way He has in my life, or why He keeps pressing the fast-forward button when I’d personally opt for “pause” once in a while, but I trust that whatever He’s doing, it’s the best possible plan for my life.
As I look hard at my complicated emotions, I recognize that the words easy and hard, worthy and unworthy, comfortable and difficult, are irrelevant.
The only word that matters is what I say to Him: and that word is Yes.
Related posts:
Dr Holly Ordway came to Christ through reason, in the pursuit of truth. "In your hearts honor Christ as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect" (1 Peter 15).
She writes about her journey from atheism to orthodox Christian faith in her book "Not God's Type: A Rational Academic Finds a Radical Faith" (Moody Publishers).
