Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

listening for God

Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: When You Can’t Hear God Calling

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[On Mondays – well, technically, Sundays, I am stepping away from 31 Days of Authentic You to host the #HearItUseIt community.]

About 18 months ago I stood precariously on the edge of indecision as I grappled with whether to leave my part-time job of 10 years to pursue writing full-time. I hemmed and hawed, made lists of pros and cons and vacillated wildly, one day declaring to myself that I would stay, the next day insisting I would make the leap.

It was a difficult time, fraught with anxiety, fear and trepidation. The trouble was, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out if I was hearing God calling me in a particular direction, or if I was simply wanting to hear him call me in a particular direction. I think that’s often the case when we are mired in indecision. We simply aren’t sure that we are hearing God correctly. Often it’s unclear whether we are following his will or our own.

The verses we read about young Samuel this week reminded me of that period of indecision in my own life. When God called in the middle of the night, Samuel mistook his voice for that of his mentor, the priest Eli. Each time God called out, “Samuel!” the boy jumped out of bed and answered Eli, “Hear I am; you called me,” to which Eli responded, “Go back to bed. I didn’t call your name.” The two went back and forth like this until finally, after the third time, Eli realized Samuel wasn’t hearing random voices but the voice of God calling down to him. He told Samuel to return to bed and instructed him to reply, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening,” when he heard the voice call down to him again.

One of the key points in this story is that Eli recognized the voice of God when Samuel did not. Eli realized Samuel was being called by God long before the young boy recognized the voice of God himself.

We all need an Eli in our life – someone who hears the voice of God when we can’t. Someone who can discern when God is calling us and point us in a direction that aligns with God’s will.

Back when I was wrestling with whether or not to leave my job, two Elis offered me counsel and direction: my friend Deidra and my husband Brad. Both helped me recognize that the yearning I felt to pursue full-time writing wasn’t simply a personal desire, but a call from God. Both Deidra and Brad helped me sort through the conflicting voices I thought I heard and zero in on the only voice that mattered. I’m not sure I would have been able to leap confidently without their wise and discerning advice.

It’s not easy to identify the voice of God. There’s a lot of noise out there, multiple distractions and myriad, conflicting forces – not the least of which is our own ego – all pushing and pulling us in different directions. We all need an Eli to help us sort through the detritus. We all need an Eli to tell us when God is calling, especially if we can’t hear his voice ourselves.

Questions for Reflection:
Has an Eli in your life ever helped you discern the voice of God? Can you think of one to two people who might serve in that capacity, should the need ever arise? Have you ever served as an Eli in someone else’s life?

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Welcome to the Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word each week. If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information.

Please include the Hear It, Use It button (grab the code below) or a link in your post, so your readers know where to find the community if they want to join in — thank you!

Please also try to visit and leave some friendly encouragement in the comment box of at least one other #HearItUseIt participant. And if you want to tweet about the community, please use the #HearItUseIt hashtag.

Thank you — I am so grateful that you are here!

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Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: Want to Know God? Go Straight to the Source

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I spend a lot of time reading what other Christians have to say about God and religion. Part of that goes with my job: as a Christian writer, I need to read other Christian writers. I need to keep my ear to the ground, so to speak. But I’m also simply curious. I like to hear what others have to say about faith, spirituality, religion and Scripture. I’m nosey – I like to know what makes a person’s spiritual clock tick.

But I’ve also realized in the last couple of years that I can spend too much time listening to what everyone else has to say about God, and not enough time tuning in to God myself.

Jesus makes this clear to his disciples in our reading this week when he first asks them about the word on the street. “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” Jesus asks his disciples point-blank.  They answer him with the truth: “Well, some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and others say Jeremiah or one of the other prophets.”

Then Jesus asks an even more pointed question: “But who do you say I am?”

When Peter answers, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” Jesus not only praises his answer, he also says this:

“…my Father in heaven has revealed this to you. You did not learn this from any human being.” (Matthew 16:17)

That right there is an important distinction for me: our understanding of God comes from God himself, not from any other source.

It’s fine to read all about religion and God and engage in theological discussions. But when it comes right down to it, that’s not what really grows my faith. I can read the spiritual greats until my eyes glaze over, but in the end, as Jesus says, I won’t really learn about God from a human being, but from engaging in a relationship with God himself.

Living grows my faith. Noticing how God is working in my own personal life; listening for and acting on the nudges of the Holy Spirit; engaging with my children in conversations about how God is working in their lives; wrestling with Scripture and understanding how God is speaking to me exactly where I am.

Paying attention. Being present. Noticing. Listening. That’s how we get to know God. 

Faith isn’t a passive experience. It’s not about reading what everyone else thinks and believes and forming your opinions based on that. It’s about engaging with God yourself, on your own terms, in your own real life, and defining your beliefs according to what God is saying to you. Faith isn’t a cookie-cutter, one-size-fits all. It’s personal and intimate, between you and God.

Today, I’m asking myself the same question Jesus asked his disciples: Who do I say God is? And I’m listening for the answer that is revealed by him.

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Next week, June 3, I’ll be taking a blogging break, so there will be no #HearItUseIt link-up. See you back here on June 10!

Welcome to the “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday” community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word. If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information.

Please include the Hear It, Use It button (grab the code below) or a link in your post, so your readers know where to find the community if they want to join in — thank you!

Please also try to visit and leave some friendly encouragement in the comment box of at least one other Hear It, Use It participant. And if you want to tweet about the community, please use the #HearItUseIt hashtag.

Thank you — I am so grateful that you are here!

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Blogging Benedict: Listening with the Ear of Your Heart

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Fifteen centuries ago a young man abandoned his scholarly studies in Rome and ventured into the Italian countryside, where he founded a monastic community and wrote what he called “a little rule” to help his fellow monks live a spiritual life in community.

That man was Benedict, better known as the founder of the Benedictines, a Roman Catholic order that still thrives today.

“So how does this apply to me?” you might be thinking. “I’m not a monk, and I’m not Catholic. I don’t need The Rule.”

Not true. Although Benedict’s Rule was written for monks, his advice covers much of what encompasses our everyday, right here in the 21st century: worship, prayer, work, study, relationships, our use of time, community and hospitality. Benedict’s Rule is more useful to us now than ever.

Benedict begins the Prologue to The Rule with these opening words:

“Listen carefully, my son, to the master’s instructions, and attend to them with the ear of your heart.”

Concrete person that I am, listening with the “ear of my heart” doesn’t make much sense. At first. But the more I read about Benedict, and the more I practice quiet, focused listening, the more I understand that looking for God in all things, in the ordinary circumstances of my life is possible.

As Jane Tomaine, author of St. Benedict’s Toolbox: The Nuts and Bolts of Everyday Benedictine Living, writes, “God is before us and within us, waiting to be found. The challenge is that every day we have so many things to do, and the crush of work can leave us hurrying through one task to move onto the next. But is it possible instead to do our work on one level, yet reflect with our mind and heart on where God is in the task? Can we allow the task before us to reveal itself as an opportunity to find God?”

Tomaine gives her readers a number of ways to practice this discipline, this listening with the ear of your heart.

1. Keep a gratitude journal. Take a few moments to reflect on your day, the small instances in which you felt the presence of God in your life. You can even join an online community, like Ann Voskamp’s 1,000 Gifts community every Monday, when she lists a continuing stream of 1,000 gifts and encourages others to do the same.

2. Notice the metaphorical breadcrumbs God leaves us to follow. Look back over your life, suggests Tomaine, to uncover the threads that led you to where you are today. Sometimes our God vision is 20/20 in hindsight. Such is the case for me and my move from Massachusetts to Nebraska. In retrospect, I see now that God threw the entire loaf of honey whole grain in my path, not merely the breadcrumbs. But it took several years for me to realize that this period of upheaval was actually the direct work of God in my life.

3. Take a thankfulness walk. This is perhaps better accomplished when the weather warms up, but the point is to walk slowly through nature, focusing on your senses – the chickadee chirping in the white pine…the scarlet berries dangling on delicate branches – and giving thanks for the hand of God in all things.

Like any spiritual discipline, listening and watching for God in the everyday takes practice. I’ll be honest, some days spin by so rapidly that I don’t notice him at all. But I continue to practice, and little by little the extraordinary shines through the ordinary.

“Incline your ear and come to me; listen, so that you may live.” (Isaiah 55:3)

How do you listen for God in your life? How do you “incline your ear” or listen with the “ear of your heart?” Add your ideas in the comments to suggest practices others might try.

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I’ve recently revisited a series I wrote three years ago called Blogging Benedict, and I’ve decided to run some of these posts on Fridays through Lent. They are based on the book by Jane Tomaine called  St. Benedict’s Toolbox: The Nuts and Bolts of Everyday Living, which I am re-reading this Lent.

Next Friday: Blogging Benedict: Lectio Divina.

Missional Women

Nothing {day twenty-eight}

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Early Saturday morning, the day after Jon’s memorial service, I snuggled into the couch with my cup of coffee and Jesus Calling and read this:
“Rest in My presence, allowing Me to take charge of this day. Do not bolt into the day like a racehorse suddenly released. Instead walk purposefully with Me, letting Me direct your course one step at a time.”
Huh. What exactly would that look like, I wondered – to let God direct the entire course of the day, one step at a time? I realized I’d probably never done that before. I’d never relinquished an entire day to God.
So I did. I let God take my entire day. I sat back and said, “It’s yours. Do as you wish.” And you know what he had me do?
Absolutely nothing.
I contemplated hopping on the treadmill for a couple of miles or heading out for a brisk walk around the lake in the crisp Minnesota air. But God said no.
God definitely said no when I considered a quick jaunt over to Anthropologie to rummage through the sale rack.
He even said no when I thought about helping Brad sort random items in his dad’s bedroom closet, dividing a lifetime of accumulated stuff into the “keep,” “Goodwill” and “trash” piles on the floor.
Later, as I ruminated guiltily over the fact that the kids were zoned out in front of the television, God said no when I considered taking them for a hike in the woods. 
No matter what activity I considered, God insisted that I stay put. So that’s exactly what I did.
Sprawled on Jon and Janice’s bed, I pulled a fleece blanket over my shoulder and gazed out the French doors onto the snowy, wooded hill in the backyard. I watched Brad sort and debated with him over which treasures to keep and which to let go (he’s a keeper; I’m a tosser).  I read a bit of Jeremiah and took a long nap.
On Saturday I let God take my day. He gave me absolutely nothing to do, which, as it turned out, was exactly right.
Do you ever listen when God tells you to do nothing?
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Stand Still to See

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I stand stock-still at the window, and it’s hard, because I am a woman in motion, always wiping, scrubbing, neatening, organizing, folding, pacing. But I turn the faucet off, lean low against the sink with the sponge in my hand and wait, eyes fixed on the suspended globe outside.

I wait and I watch. And even though there are backpacks to stuff and lunch boxes to fill and crumbs to sweep into cupped palm, and even though the morning clock ticks toward departure and I haven’t even put on mascara yet, I stand at the window and watch.

I hear her first even before I see her, because I’ve glanced down just a second at the sink full of juice glasses and coffee cups and half-eaten crusts of cinnamon raisin English muffins. It’s the sound of wings I hear first through the open window. A gentle whir of wings beating furious, 90 times in a single second, they say.

And then the quiet pip-pipping, a delicate chirp as she drinks, needle-beak sipping orange sweet as wings whirl. Her back glimmers green, the color of polished malachite.

She’s so close, I can almost touch that tiny, humming body, were it not for the window screen that separates us.

She doesn’t linger. I blink and she’s gone, hovering over the magenta zinnia and then zipping blurred toward cover of elm leaves. If I squint and lean close toward the window, I can just make her out, sitting regal on a branch, a Lilliputian queen.

It requires a bit of restraint, this motionless waiting. But oh, isn’t it worth all the wait in the world to catch sight of such grandeur? God does great things before my eyes indeed. I simply need to stand still to see.

“Now then, stand still and see this great thing the Lord is about to do before your eyes.”
1 Samuel 12:16

Over at Ann’s place we’re exploring how we practice faith in the day-to-day. Standing still to see is one such way for me…what about you? How do you practice faith in the day-to-day?

And linking with Emily, too, for Imperfect Prose: