I just finished speaking in Orlando to a large gathering of youth pastors. I was talking about hearing God. The experience felt…a little weird. On one hand, I felt like I was speaking on something way too simple and obvious to justify a keynote talk, like telling them for forty-five minutes that they should drink water or get regular sleep. It felt so basic, so painfully obvious (even though I know they don’t practice this). On the other hand, at the very same moment I also felt like I was making a case for something really radical, really “out there,” like a fifth book of the Gospels. Thus the weird experience. This is really obvious. This is really a stretch.
At the end of the talk, I led them in a few moments of silence and listening to God.
Afterwards, there was a book signing, and God gave me two beautiful stories.
The very first woman to the table was so excited. “God just spoke to me,” she said, eyes bright with that “this is so real” brightness. “He just helped me find my checkbook. Its been missing for like three months, and he just told me where it was.” Inside I was cracking up. You are so funny, God. This is how you wanted to show her this is real, and that you know her. Her checkbook.
She bought five books to give to friends.
The next story came about twenty minutes later.
It’s a man this time, and he begins, “I’m not a very mystical guy.” I figured he was about to refer to the exercise where we listened to God, and I sort of smiled inside. When did talking to God become mystical? He continued, “But I did what you said and just got silent. And God said, Take Amy to St. John. Amy’s my wife, and God wants me to take her to the Bahamas.” I said, “Wow. Great,” thinking that was the end of the story. But he goes on, “After you finished I turned to the guy next to me and said, ‘I think God wants me to take my wife to St John.’ He said, ‘I have two tickets for St John and God has told me for awhile they are not for me but I’m supposed to give them to someone. So, you have two tickets for St. John.’”
They had just met.
How completely God is that?
And this fellow, he was pretty blown away. “That is crazy!!”
I just smiled and said, “Way to go. Enjoy the trip!”
It’s not crazy. Just wild, and beautiful, and pretty normal…when you walk with God.

I get up first in our house. Oban, our seven month old golden retriever, gets up with me. Or usually, he’s been up for awhile and finally gets tired of waiting so he growls a few times to wake me up. Time to take a pee. I let him out, and he just takes off like a rocket through the bushes into the neighbors and beyond. I’m yelling for him to come back. I’m whistling. I’m growling at him. Yes, growling. We took this “Australian” dog training course that says dogs need a pack leader so when they’re doing something bad growl at ‘em and they’ll stop. I’m standing out here in my boxers, no dog in sight, growling loud, and I wonder what the neighbors think. Oban’s not stopping. He is gone.
And I’m pissed.

By the time he gets back, happy as can be for the romp he just had, I am ready to give him a good thumping. I don’t. We don’t treat our animals like that. But the point is I wanted to. My anger is totally out there, exposed. I’m furious.

This anger thing is really ugly. And old. Its been a battle of mine for years. I’m asking God, What is this about, Lord? But I’m not ready to hear an answer yet ‘cause I’m still pretty mad so I make some oatmeal, feed Oban, and head into my office to pray my “morning prayers.” It takes awhile to get through those prayers, and I can’t even really get into it until I first confess my anger and ask forgiveness because everything else feels like a total sham till I do. But I’m coming back to God and to myself. After about 45 minutes I’m in a better place to hear.

Forgive me for this anger, Lord. What’s this all about?

And here is how God speaks this morning. I’m “moved” or “prompted” to pick up Diary of an Old Soul (by George MacDonald, the old Scottish poet). It’s sort of a daily reading I’ve been doing for years. I turn to today’s entry and here is how it reads:

Keep me from wrath, let it seem ever so right: My wrath will never work thy righteousness. Up, up the hill, to the whiter than snow-shine, Help me to climb, and dwell in pardon's light. I must be pure as thou, or ever less Than thy design of me--therefore incline My heart to take men's wrongs as thou tak'st mine.

Whoa. Of all the things, this one’s about anger. Now what’s really good about this is once again, I’m reminded God hears me, and he speaks to me. Even when I’m blowing it. That is just so loving. Reassuring. Kind.

I love it how the Scriptures continue to speak, opening up new things to us all the time even after (in my case) thirty years of reading the Bible.
I’ve spent a lot of time in the Gospel of John (its my favorite) and a lot of time in chapter ten. For years I’ve used it to try and help people understand that God’s offer to us is far more than forgiveness (most Christians still think Christianity is pretty much forgiveness). God’s offer is life. Jesus says, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10b). Anyhow, I was reading again in John last week, and God showed me something new.
Jesus begins the chapter talking about false shepherds and false Gospels. He then goes on to say
The man who enters by the gate is the shepherd of his sheep. The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice…whoever enters through me will be saved [or “kept safe” according to the editor’s footnote]. He will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”
What clicked for me was the connection between hearing his voice and finding life. Forgive me, but somehow I’ve never quite seen the union of the two ideas. I believe we can hear the voice of God. I also believe that God wants life for us. But somehow I’ve held these two convictions for years in separate shoe boxes in my mind. Both are true. But I never really saw how connected they are to each other. In fact, Jesus makes it more than a connection – he makes it a condition. “You want the life your good shepherd has for you? You’ve got to follow my voice.”
This is a big deal. Because – in spite of the fact the Scriptures urge us to listen for God’s voice – most Christians do not make it a daily practice to ask God what he thinks about what they are planning to do. Then they feel disappointed when things don’t turn out, or abandoned when things go badly. They lose confidence in God’s goodness, or at least, in God’s goodness towards them. It doesn’t occur to them that maybe they missed some essential part of life with God. Like, following closely.
Now, I am NOT saying (as some very successful authors are) that life can be completely fantastic if we just “believe,” or “lay hold of it,” or listen for God’s voice. I am NOT preaching a Gospel without suffering. Life can be hard, really hard, especially for the friends of God. Jesus said that the world would treat us as they treated him. They didn’t treat him very kindly. We simply have to be prepared for that.
What I AM saying is that even so, even in a broken world, there is a LOT of life that God still has for us. He says so. “They will come in and go out and find pasture.” Jesus was an essentially happy, joyful person. We can be, too. When we find our life in God.
By the way, I think every parent, every friend, every lover knows something of the condition Jesus is talking about. As a father, I want good things for my sons. I want to bless them. Not spoil, not overindulge, not pamper. But I do want lots and lots of good things for them. But not when they blow me off. Not when they ignore my counsel. Not when they don’t really care about our relationship. Much of what I have to offer depends on my boys saying close to me, listening to me.
Anyhow, it’s the same with God. You want life? You want to find good pasture? You’ve got to go “in and out” through Jesus, run all things through him. Listen for his voice. And follow.

Its Friday. I’m on a United flight to Los Angeles, wedged between a guy drawing cartoons on a yellow pad and a woman reading Ladies Home Journal. I’m trying to get to Santa Barbara, and this whole trip feels a little weird.
Stasi and I were really looking forward to the baptism of our dear friends’ daughter in Colorado Springs this weekend. Not a time to skip town. But last weekend I kept feeling this nudge, this “prompting” that I should go and see Sam. (Our oldest son – he’s a freshman at Westmont College in SB this year). You know what I mean about those nudges – you just have a sense, call it intuition, or a thought you can’t seem to shake. But it made no sense. Next weekend is open, no conflicts. This weekend is the baptism. Besides, I was on the road in Dallas this week on business. I’m tired. Staying home makes sense.
I checked the weather, looking for some confirmation. I mean hey – if I go to California I wanna go when its sunny and warm (winter has been dragging on here).
The forecast is for rain. The trip is making less sense.
But I’ve learned over the years that sometimes God tells us to do things that don’t seem to make sense in the moment. Right? I mean, look at Abraham – sacrifice your son with a knife? Look at Joshua – take a fortified city with trumpets? Look at Gideon – get rid of 90% of your army, on the eve of battle? There’s a pretty long biblical record of God asking his people to do things that at the time didn’t seem to make a lot of sense.
Back to the prompting. I asked God, Do you want me to go this weekend, or next, Lord? He said, This weekend. I pushed into it a little bit. This weekend, Lord? Am I hearing you right? Yes. I don’t want to just charge off on a whim. I mean, a prompting is one thing. Ask God what it means. I even asked Stasi, twice, “What are you hearing from God on this?” She said, “I heard ‘Go.’”
Walking with God requires humility, and trust. I don’t know all that God is up to; I don’t even see things clearly from my point of view. So, I booked a flight. Driving to the airport I asked Jesus, Are you in this? I do that a lot, as I head into different situations. Are you in this, Lord? Because if he is, then I’m good. I don’t really need to understand, I don’t need to know anything else. If God is in this, I’m good. He said, Yes. And something in my soul quieted down a bit. Peace came in with that “yes.”
It’s a good thing I just remembered that. Because my flight got cancelled. Its two hours later, and I’m on a different flight (to L.A.) sort of zigzagging and fighting my way to get to Santa Barbara. Doubt really wants to creep in. This doesn’t make sense. I’m an idiot. One more time I check in – Jesus, are you in this? I am. Okay. I’m sticking with that. I’m going to let my heart rest in that.