It Might Be Me, But It’s Probably God, Origin Story, Part 6

Go here to read Part 5: Pay Someone to Pray for Me?

One of the most transformational for my ability to hear was a simple turn of assumption.

My assumption had always been: if I’m thinking something, it might be God, but it’s probably me.

Then I listened to a talk that turned this idea on its head: what if you assume it might be you, but it’s probably God?

I also did Mark Virkler’s Four Keys to Hearing God’s Voice training. He had some really practical explanations, like God’s voice doesn’t sound like a booming baritone in your head announcing, “This is God.” Rather, he sounds like your own voice in your head, except that the words are kinder, gentler, more creative, more unexpected, filled with grace.

God’s voice sounds like your voice, but with different content, different thought patterns. Maybe a word I wouldn’t normally use. Maybe something so unexpected I’d never have come up with it on my own.

One funny example: I was in Manhattan in the fall of 2018, out walking early in the morning, and I thought, “I want to do a cartwheel.”

I often do cartwheels in beautiful grass. But a concrete sidewalk?

I suspect the Lord wanted a little burst of joy on that particular street.

I also made peace with hearing God wrong … and granted myself grace for the times I’d missed his voice in the past. I have many stories of impressions that I didn’t notice.

For example, some years ago we had six freezers, because we’d butchered a lot of our cows as we were winding down our farm. I knew there was a box of ice cream bars in one of them.

One day I thought, “I want an ice cream bar.”

That’s not normal for me, as I don’t eat much sugar, and those bars had been in the freezer for months, and I’d never thought about them.

The craving came again later that day, and again the next, and I kept thinking, “This is a test of my willpower. I can resist it!”

A week later, I opened that freezer and everything had thawed. The freezer had broken.

If I’d gotten an ice cream bar when I first had a craving, I suspect I would have noticed that things were softer than they should be, and I could have salvaged most of that food.

In moments like these, I used to think, “I totally missed the prompting of the Holy Spirit! How frustrating!” Followed by the cry of repentance: Lord, I’m so sorry. Please don’t let me quench the Holy Spirit. Please don’t hide your face from me. I’ll try to do better.

Instead of a fun walk with God, an adventure, I felt shame and judgment.

But what if I am actually God’s child? Steve and Wendy Backlund teach that in a family, we celebrate progress, not perfection. When a baby takes a step, everyone celebrates. No good parent says, “Well, you fell down after one step. You’re a horrible walker! Maybe you’ll never get it right!”That would be horrible parenting.

Instead, the parents say: “Did you see that?! Call the grandparents! Big hug!”

So instead of beating myself up because I missed it and fell down, I could instead recognize that the Lord was looking at me and saying, “Do you see that I actually communicated something to you, and you heard it? You didn’t know what to do with it. You were untrained. You hadn’t yet learned what it’s like to listen to my voice , so you got your signals crossed. But you’re hearing me! I’m so proud that you’re starting to tune your ear!”

A journey of learning to give myself more grace, and being willing to keep listening to God along the way.

Lord, hearing you isn’t easy. We don’t talk about much about these moments—either successes or failures—in church. We don’t know how to explain.

Thank you for those who have gone before, who give us word pictures and examples and teaching, so that we can have an easier time hearing your voice.

Please bless us with the ability to hear your voice more clearly, and with the peace of knowing we get to be in process. You’re not frustrated with us, and since we are part of your family, and families celebrate progress, not perfection, you are excited for us. Lord, thank you for who you are. Amen.

On to Part 7: Experiments in Prayer.