I Can’t Hear You, Ch.1 pt. 4

Several weeks into the Bible study we were supposed to learn a verse, “My sheep hear my voice.” (Obviously someone understood our memory capacity.)One lady stated honestly, “I don’t think I hear God’s voice.” The point of the chapter was we don’t hear God’s voice if we don’t know Him personally.  Walking to the car I thought how refreshing it was for someone to participate in a Bible study and openly admit she didn’t hear God’s voice.  I might have at least kept silent.

The question came to mind over and over the next week, “How long has it been since I have heard God’s voice?”  I couldn’t remember. “My sheep hear my voice.” I didn’t doubt I was one of His sheep but was there wool in my ears?  Was I not listening?  Was I ignoring His voice?  More questions led to more concern.  Throughout the week the thoughts in my head ran as if on an iPod.  What had I selected?  Was it God’s voice saying those things?

            I began to feel the panic of guilt. I am a missionary for pity’s sake.  Not only did it not seem right, experience taught me that if my relationship with God was suffering, soon every area was suffering.  Did my spiritual lethargy stem from the fact I wasn’t listening?  How many times did Jesus say, “Those who have ears, let him hear?”  Had I become deaf?  Did He only speak when there was something big going on, like salvation, or calling to missions? Did the mundane and ordinary we gut out in silence? The questions swirled in my head. Finally, I honestly admitted it had been awhile since I had heard God’s voice and as one of His children I was feeling desperate to hear.   

            A geometry professor of mine used to say, “When you don’t know what to do, do what you know.”  The saying frustrated the students to no end. We not only didn’t know how to solve the problem, we didn’t really understand her advice. After 6 months of repetition we realized, start somewhere where you know what to do.  Do what you know.  Later I began to realize it applied to many things in life, not just geometry.  In this case of not hearing God’s voice I didn’t know exactly what to do.  I wasn’t even sure I fully understood the problem.  But what I did know? 

            I knew a lady who often claimed God had told her to do things. And that she was nuttier than a fruitcake.  Her life and faith weren’t ones I wanted to emulate.  I worried about making up some crazy action and pinning it on God.

            I knew if I wanted to hear from God, the Bible had His words written down. I wish I could say I came to Slovakia believing this fully and completely, that is, actually reading the Bible regularly.  At one rock bottom drought in my soul I was perusing God’s word.  Finally it dawned on me.  Others might be refreshed and renewed through a Christian friend, or a Bible lesson at church or on the radio.  However, living in Slovakia, I only knew enough of the language for basic communication skills.  This kept friendships fairly shallow, and church more of a language and culture lesson than a time of meaningful worship and community.

            Given the lack of burning bush experiences there was no other opportunity to hear from God except directly from His word.  At that point I decided, tired or not, happy or not, healthy or not, I needed to read God’s word every day.  That one commitment has been more life changing than most others I have made, including marriage, exercise and flossing.

            I knew the Bible was God speaking to me, and that I didn’t want to be a kook. It was still difficult to discern in my thoughts which voice was God’s and which was mine. I knew there were plenty of thoughts running around in my head, many inspired by books.

            Reading is a major form of relaxation for me. In fact it was one of the few forms of fun remaining when we came to Slovakia.  I love dictionaries and classics, happy endings and children’s literature, humor and travel guides.  Getting any reading material in English used to be VERY hard and reading in Slovak for any length of time is not relaxing. 

            During our first January in Slovakia in desperation, having read every other book in the house, I read the entire Joy of Cooking Cookbook. I now know how to pick out a good wine, though I don’t drink it.  There is also a recipe for opossum in there. Whenever I feel sorry for myself in the kitchen, I thank the Lord I haven’t had to use the opossum recipe yet. Books are easier to come by now, especially with the development of Internet shopping and friends’ personal libraries.

            I love to read, but I am picky.  I think this started in college with the stuff I was forced to read, and developed fully with the completion of the cookbook. I wasn’t reading trash yet my head seemed filled with fluff.  Was a paperback louder than God’s voice? Other words seemed easier to contemplate than what I was reading in Scripture.  And my soul was getting wearier by the day.

            I do love living in Slovakia, most days. A nearby church plays a short piece of classical music in bells at 9am, 3pm and 5 pm daily. The building itself is a dreadful square functional block, but the music coming from its tower is breathtaking.  I strain to catch each note because we live about 5 blocks away. The noise of the trams going by on the hill, construction and the incessant barking of neighborhood dogs make listening difficult. I open a window, even in the winter to hear the refrain. The music is so sweet, my ears have a feast each time I stop to admire it. 

            Over the next month my soul started to crave the music of God’s voice.  I began to want it more than other things. Like listening to the bells from the church, I was willing to do something to catch the refrain.

              An idea came to me, a crazy, wild, I-can-never-do-this-but-it just-might-work idea. If I really wanted to hear God’s voice, and the Bible has God’s words, I could start putting those words in my head more and attempt to dim the other voices as much as possible.  It was a radical and difficult step but I would try not to read anything else except the Bible for a period of time.

             It was going to be such an extreme move I had to think about it for a while. I considered what I was giving up. I was relinquishing my primary form of relaxation. I didn’t have much to replace it.  With a rainy fall upon us, outdoor activities were curtailed.  My sewing machine was buried beneath a stack of other more pressing projects. Television wasn’t restful at all.  Would reading the Bible more really help me hear God’s voice better?