Lily Tomlin jokes that when we talk to God, we’re said to be praying, but when God talks to us, we’re said to be schizophrenic. Maybe I’m crazy, but I believe God talks to me. Frankly, he talks to me far more often than I listen.
The primary way I hear God’s voice is through Scripture. On good days, I set aside time to read and contemplate the day’s Mass readings. I read them slowly, alert to any phrase or image that seems to speak to my life right then and there. I don’t try to force any insights. If nothing comes to mind, I go about my day, mentally referring back to the morning’s readings from time to time. Often, something happens during the day that makes me go, “Oh! Thank you for preparing me for this through my reading” or “Ah, now I see what that passage meant.”
Skeptics might say the guidance I receive from Scripture is just my imagination. That doesn’t explain, though, the times when the morning’s lessons are exactly what I needed to hear in order to handle an unexpected situation. Even more amazing are the times when I rushed through the reading without even praying. Then halfway through the day, I’ll hear or see something that ties in perfectly with a passage I barely paid attention to at the time.
A similar thing happens at Mass. Long ago, I formed the habit of asking God, as I drive to church, to speak to me in some way during the liturgy. He grants that request almost every Sunday. Often it’s something from the homily that is exactly what I needed to hear that week. Other times, God speaks to me through the hymns, or a particular prayer suddenly comes alive in a special way. Even on days when I’m rushed or feeling low, I attend Mass expecting to hear from the Lord, and I almost always do.
I also often hear God’s voice speaking through other people. I listen especially closely to my husband and two good friends. Their words have been so consistently helpful that I think of these people as God-appointed counselors. I’m often blessed by the advice I receive during the Rite of Reconciliation. Sometimes the Lord speaks to me through strangers. They can be readers of this column or the lady ahead of me in the grocery line. These encounters are like small seeds that sprout wisdom right when I need it most.
More and more, I appreciate the rosary as a way to talk with God. My mind may jump all around so that it can hardly be called meditation. Still, I’ve never felt my time with the beads was wasted. It may take me a while, though, to hear what God is saying to me. When I was considering becoming a Catholic, I prayed the rosary every day for an entire year. I asked that I would either lose interest or become certain that conversion was the right step. In that case, it took months to hear what God had been saying all along.
My personal prayer experience varies. Sometimes, I feel uplifted. Sometimes, prayer is just a chore I obediently complete. Sometimes, getting through my prayers feels like slogging through a swamp. I think God permits those dry spells so that I won’t confuse his voice with my temporary emotions.
Yet even in his occasional silence, I believe God speaks to me. All joking aside, I believe that listening for God’s voice is the sanest thing I do.
Kathleen welcomes comments. Send them to Kathleen Choi, 1706 Waianuenue Ave., Hilo 96720, or email: kathchoi@hawaii.rr.com.
