Search Our Blog Posts
Blog Article Tags
We love building relationships. Subscribe to our blog to receive weekly encouragement in your email inbox.
- Details
Week 3: Listening to the Father
Listening Cleanly and Clearly—And So I Listen.
Week 3, Day 4
What hinders our listening?
One of my own biggest hindrances is my own thoughts...
And so I listen.
My prayers have been transformed from a rambling conglom-eration of words to moments of silence, listening to what God speaks to my heart. I have realized the value of being in the pres-ence of the Lord instead of always feeling like I have to have something to say, or have the perfect words to express whatever is on my mind.
And so I listen to His heart.
After several years of friendship, while driving on a road trip, a friend commented, “I’m glad we have reached the point in our relationship where we don’t feel like we have to fill the silence with noise. We are comfortable with ourselves, with each other, and with our relationship that it is enough to just be here together.”
I think I have finally reached that point in my communication with God. He has more important things to say than I do. His wisdom is infinitely beyond mine. His thoughts are not my thoughts and His ways are not my ways (Isa. 55:8-9), yet I long for them to be more aligned.
- Details
Week 3: Listening to the Father
Listening for My Name
Week 3, Day 3
Fill in the following two blanks:
I am most excited to hear my name when it is called __________________________________.
I most dread hearing my name when it is called ______________________________________.
John 10:3 (NIV)
The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
My mom has a unique name. Not many people are named Jocelynn and if they are, they even more rarely have two N’s at the end. When we hear her name, we immediately turn, thinking that it is in reference to my mom. We know her name and smile when we hear it spoken. My name, however, is not as unique. At a family retreat in Cochabamba, Bolivia, there were three “Michelle”s in attendance: a toddler, a teen, and myself. Needless to say, the toddler was most often the Michelle being called, but I turned to look. Every. Single. Time. And since I know that Michelle is not a unique name, I shouldn’t be surprised when there is more than one Michelle around. The funniest time there was a confusion of names was when I was in Bogota, Colombia, on a Sunday. There is a brother there named Michel (French for Michael, and how my name is pronounced in Spanish). So when the announcement came that Michel would be leading singing this morning, I froze, until I remembered that I was not the only “Michelle” in attendance.