I am passionate about hearing God and for others to learn his voice, too. God lead me to some wonderful ladies through the Allume Conference, who are brave and bold and willing to share their story of how they have come to hear the voice of God through this series.
It is not a list of "how tos" or of verses on hearing God or things of the sort. Just an honest, open discussion of their journey to the place where they know God's voice. Praying you are encouraged through their stories and steps of faith.
As I sat outside of my workplace weeping in my car, I heard God say to me:
"You've been living with a thorn in your side, and it has kept you from truly living. I'm going to remove it, and it will set you free to live a life of joy."
Nothing about that morning had been extraordinary other than the fact that I had gotten to work 10 minutes early (which was a feat for me). With time to spare, I thought I’d have a little Jesus time before I started my shift. Over the past few months, I’d been exhaustingly busy as a newlywed in a new city. So moments spent with God were far and few in between.
A CD with the song “How He Loves” by David Crowder Band serenaded me as I began to pray in my car.
“Jesus, I’m sorry it’s been so long…”
“Stop. It’s okay.”
“Really, I…”
“Stop. I love you, and I’ve missed you. You don’t need to say anything. Let me speak.”
And so I did. All of a sudden, he showed up. He filled me all the joy I'd experienced in my marriage and reminded me that that was a gift from him. I was so overwhelmed with His love, I could practically feel him saying "Jeana, I love you so much! This is a blessing from me.” His love was like a hurricane, as the song says.
Then he showed me my hurt from the past and present. My anxieties that left me cynical and paralyzed with fear. My tears of joy turned into tears of hurt, like Jesus was lifting up a bandage on a wound I've tried to hide. And he spoke very clearly into my spirit, promising to remove the thorn and bring restoration into my life.
All I offered Jesus was 10 minutes. In return, He spoke healing into my heart that has forever changed me.
Over the next few months, I entered a season of rest and healing. My mornings began with a coffee date with my Creator. Just me and him. Just my bible and some worship music. His Word became alive in my life, speaking loud and clear into my soul. Whether it was 10 minutes or 2 hours, I remembered that I needed to let my Jesus speak to me, no matter how long it took.
And really, it’s been like any other friendship. The more time I’ve spent with Him, the more I’ve enjoyed His company. I was shy at first; at least compared to how much of my life I offer Him now.
As I’ve learned to sit in His presence, He’s walked me through tears of joy and pain and healing. I’ve learned to discern the sound of His voice, and now I recognize it throughout my days, guiding me. It’s the voice that comforts me as if a hand is intertwined in mine.
Learning to listen to my Jesus in solitude has brought more than just healing into my life.
It has taught me how to live by the guidance of the Holy Spirit, releasing me from many fears that I’ve struggled with for so long. He’s removed my crippling thorns and sins, making me whole.
Giving time is a form of worship. So when we offer our own to listen to Jesus, we allow Him to keep His promises to us, like the ones found in Psalm 23:2-3:
[The Shepherd] makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
Tuning our spirits to hear Jesus allows us to do what we were made to do: to live in freedom through fellowship with our Creator as He restores and reconciles us to Him.
Jeana is a dreamer, an artist, and a writer. (She makes a living doing two of those things.) Jesus has healed her fragile heart, and He's the reason she’s able to live a life full of joy and wonder. When she isn’t painting, baking, or glued to her laptop, she is outside soaking up the sun and traveling to new places with her wonderful husband.
You can find her blogging at The Slow Artisan and over on Instagram @theslowartisan.
