Did I Hear God?

The disciples misunderstood Christ. They were listening. They heard the audible words of Jesus leave His lips, yet as the news spread, those known as “the brethren” still misinterpreted.

The story remains a beautiful portrait of grace, a gentle reminder that we will sometimes fumble when it comes to hearing His voice. If the disciples made such a blunder after three years of hands-on ministry with the Son of God, how much more will you and I? And if they still discovered God’s grace and gentle correction in the process, then how much more hope is there for us?

I used to listen for God’s voice as if I was taking a hearing test, hoping my ears were sensitive to identify the lowest and highest frequencies. Now I take a different approach to hearing from God and learning to respond. I imagine myself as a young child learning to speak. Like parents who celebrate their child’s first word, even when it’s a jumbled version of “mom,” “dad” or “no,” God lauds our efforts to communicate with Him.

Looking down on us, He must laugh out loud at some of our more spectacular misunderstandings and mishaps. Other times He gently but firmly corrects us when we’re misguided. God knows our understanding sometimes gets bent in translation.

One of my favorite Bible blooper moments was committed by two of the feistiest disciples, also known as the “Sons of Thunder.” Disappointed and upset by the cold shoulder they received from the Samaritans, James and John suggested that fire come down from heaven and consume the stubborn people.

Though clearly less-than-brilliant, the idea had a biblical precedent in the account of Elijah’s calling down fire to consume the false idols of Baal. At the time, it may even have seemed God-inspired. Yet Jesus graciously corrects: “‘You do not know what manner of spirit you are of. For the Son of Man did not come to destroy men’s lives but to save them'” (Luke 9:55-56).

The Scripture does not reveal where James and John got the idea of calling down fire from heaven. Was their own reasoning the source? Did the enemy plant the idea?

Here’s what we do know: Jesus challenged the disciples to know the “spirit you are of.” That’s why when I’m not certain about the source of a thought, whisper or echo, I prayerfully take it back to God. I ask for discernment and then examine the fruit.

Does what I think I heard:

• line up with Scripture?
• line up with the work God is already doing in my life?
• nurture the fruits of the Spirit in my life?
• invite me to grow in faith, maturity and relationship with God?
• increase my dependence on God?

The fruit of a sacred echo is like a litmus test to reveal its source. If you respond to something you feel is from God, what is the fruit? Will responding in obedience to the thought cause love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control to sprout—or wilt—in your life?

One of the gems of the story of the Sons of Thunder is found in the closing sentence of the account, “And they went to another village.” I love those final words of Luke. The disciples were ultra-mistaken, and Jesus swiftly corrected them. But then they simply moved on.

Jesus didn’t browbeat them. He didn’t send the disciples to the end of the line or the back of the class. Instead, He reminded them of their mission and allowed them to move forward.

Is Jesus any less faithful today? If He can keep two renegade, misguided disciples who want to call down a fiery attack from heaven on track, then certainly He can do the same when we’re out of line.

Growing Through Risk

As I’m growing in my relationship with God, I’m learning to ask a new question with every spiritual impulse: How will I grow if I take this risk?

Concentrating on the possibility of being misguided naturally changes my spiritual stance to a defensive crouch. However, focusing on the possibility of being right and growing into the fullness of the person God has created me to be changes my stance and posture to hopeful and attentive. I believe that’s a life posture that honors God.

Like that night with Dodd. I knew I needed to give him the McDonald’s dollars. In a courageous moment, I handed them over.

But what if I had refused? What if I had allowed the fear of failure, embarrassment or simply being wrong to win? I would have short-circuited what God wanted to do in the moment.

I’m convinced that allowing the fear of misunderstanding to dominate my life is a foolish way to live—equivalent to spending a lifetime working on your weaknesses rather than playing to your strengths. You may improve unskilled areas, but you’ll never hone the gifts you’ve been given. In the same way, God invites us to risk mispronouncing, misunderstanding and misinterpreting what He’s saying.

Responding to God’s voice requires taking the risk that He won’t respond and you’ll be left to your own devices. Maybe that’s why stepping out in faith still terrifies me.

I may be misguided. I may lose five McDonald’s dollars. I may be embarrassed or dubbed a fruit loop by someone who doesn’t understand the journey I’m on.

But what if I’m right? That’s the greater question.

What if those five dollars jump-start a revolution of giving? What if that one moment of courage becomes the catalyst for spiritual growth and change? What if one homeless person enjoys a hot meal as a result? What if God is pleased with my simple act of obedience?

The reward suddenly outweighs the risk as courage swells inside my soul. I see glimpses of the invisible, the possibilities of what God wants to do, and I want to join. I don’t want to miss a nanosecond.

Responding to God’s voice is worth the risks of not hearing clearly or not understanding why. As followers of Jesus, we’re prone to talk a lot about faith but not enough about risk. Yet risk is the wingman of faith.

The book of Hebrews defines faith as the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things not seen (see Heb. 11:1). Faith is often an active choice to believe or move forward in obedience. Risk is taking the first step. Whenever I risk—whether financially, emotionally or relationally—I can’t help but think of the possible outcome.

You can’t look into the eyes of those who make up the cloud of witnesses without seeing men and women who took great risks with their lives, families and livelihoods in response to God’s voice and in wild pursuit of obedience to God. Responding to the sacred echo will always involve risk.