Tag Archives: God

Putting Words In God’s Mouth

I’m curious. 

What does God’s voice sound like?

If I had to guess, I think it would be a cross between Morgan Freeman, Charleton Heston, Edward Hermann, Michael Buble or Frank Sinatra, and someone who has a super-deep bass. Someone like the old gospel singer, JD Sumner.

But I don’t really know, because I’ve never heard it.

So when someone says, “God spoke to me,” what does that really mean?

There have only been a few times in my life, and really, I can count them on one hand, when I know that God has been speaking to me in a specific moment.

The rest of the time, I’ve either discerned his “voice” after a lesson He’s wanted me to learn, or via scripture, or based on a recurring theme that seems to pop up in my life, making me aware that He wants me to pay attnetion to something specific.

But sometimes I worry–am I really hearing him, or am I putting words in His mouth?

Have you ever opened the Bible and read a scripture that seemed to directly apply to a situation in your life, or seemed to answer a question you’d been pondering?

Is that God speaking, or is that pure coincidence?

I never want to judge too quickly on that one. I never want to assume that God is speaking to me just because I come across something that seems to answer my question or address my problem, or just because I suddenly have a “feeling”.

We all know that feelings can be fleeting. 

So what do I do in this situation? I pray. 

I pray for discernment. I pray for guidance. I pray that if God is genuinely speaking, that he’ll make it clear so that I’ll have no doubt.

Sometimes He does, and other times I know I’ve tried to put words in His mouth.

I’ve heard people claim that they’ve heard God “speak” to them, and I wonder…did He really?

I certainly can’t judge another person’s relationship with God, but I do know one thing–

You can’t hear God if you aren’t listening.

You can’t hear him if you aren’t being still, taking the opportunity to sit in His presence and develop a relationship so close that when He does speak, you recognize Him immediately.

And you can’t hear Him if you are talking over Him–putting words in His mouth.

But I’ve never “heard” the voice of God, and like many of you, I wish I could.

I yearn for a burning bush that would speak to me, clarifying the things I worry about.

I yearn for a mountain to scale and be in the presence of the Holy One who would blind me with his very countenance.

But I’ll settle for the ways in which I do hear him. They aren’t audible, but they work for me.

My son’s know when their father is calling them. They recognize his voice. They know what he means. They understand his inflection and tone, and they know better than to put words in his mouth.

That’s the kind of relationship I want with my Heavenly Father; one in which I know him so well that recognizing his voice is automatic, instinctive, and equated with a love deeper than my own understanding.

Share with me: How does God speak to you? How do you know it’s Him?

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The Mess Maker

When I was pregnant with my second child, my husband jokingly said, “What if our oldest is actually the calm one?”

I laughed because there was No.Way. that could be true. Our oldest son was loud, dramatic, outgoing, and often times a bit too rambunctious, so I just knew that baby #2 would be calm, quiet and reserved.

Boy, was I wrong.

Our second son, now 2 years old, is the funny man. I have no doubt that he’s going to grow up to be the class clown. He’s into everything and I literally can’t take my eyes off of him or he’ll discover another way to create a ginormous mess.

He loves to get jars or bottles and empty the contents onto the carpets or furniture in the house.

Baby lotion. Baby powder. Peanut Butter. Shampoo. Toothpaste. Perfume. Hair gel. Vaseline. Baby wipes. Bubbles. The contents of any and all cups left within his reach.

Our carpets have seen better days.

“Mom, come look at your son!”

That is never the way I want to wake up, and whenever the five-year-old says something like that, I know whatever I’m supposed to be “looking” at isn’t going to be good.

This morning I responded to those words and entered the kitchen in time to see my youngest atop a chair, his hair greasy and glued to his head, his body slippery and slick, and my kitchen covered in the contents of an entire bottle of dishwashing liquid. An entire bottle. *sigh*

The five-year-old was laughing.

“What are you doing?!” I’m freaking out, mostly because my baby is standing on a chair.

His little hands were held out to me. “I’m dirty, Mama.”

Now, you might be getting all judgy with me at this point, thinking, “why doesn’t she just keep this stuff out of his reach?”

We’ve tried. No amount of height or locks or hiding can deter the child from finding something to make a mess with. He is the mess-maker. He is a force brute storm one-man mess making army.

And yet, I can’t help but love him. Even though he’d christened himself with dishwashing soap, I carried him to the bathtub, washed him off, and allowed him to re-start his day clean and fresh. He then refused a spoon and ate cinnamon cereal with his bare, sticky hands and then rubbed them all in his hair.

The smell of cinnamon lingered all day. I used it to remind myself that fall is coming.

Becoming a parent was the greatest thing that ever happened to me to help me understand the love that God has for each of us, his children.

No matter what kind of mess we make, God cleans us off. No matter what amount of dirt we manage to cake on, he rinses it away and gives us a fresh, clean start.

And no matter how many messes we make or what sort of filth we manage to create, the redeeming blood of Jesus Christ washes us clean and brings us to our Heavenly Father, from whom we can never be separated.

Love like that is a gift; it’s mercy. I’m reminded of it every time I clean up behind my little hurricane.

Yeah, I’m reminded of it a lot.

Share with me: What is the worst mess one of your children has ever made? How has parenting changed your view of God?

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Worry Warts


I am a total worry wart. I tend to stress–a lot.

Even though I know better, I worry about a lot of things, even when I know I can’t do anything about them.

I worry about money. I worry about getting sick. I worry about dying and leaving my small children without a mother. I worry about something happening to someone I love. And for a person who usually has a pretty high level of self-confidence, I tend to worry about what other people think of me.

I know that worrying is stupid. I know what the Bible says about worrying and how worrying is useless. I know. I know. I know!

But that doesn’t stop me from occasionally falling into a worry-fit.

Lately I’ve been worrying a lot about numbers and what numbers have to do with my writing.

I’ve been watching my Twitter & blog numbers, worried that I’m not doing enough. I’ve been counting words in my manuscripts. I’ve been counting minutes and hours between hearing from important people who are helping my writing career. I’m worrying about what kind of impression I make as a writer, how to effectively use social media, and the slow in-between days when I’m waiting for things to happen.

I’m worried about time–how much I can manage and how much I have to do what I want to do each day, dividing it between home, family, writing, and all my various other responsibilities and activities.

And I’ve been worrying about what other people think of me, based on these numbers.

The other day I picked up my son’s kindergarten newsletter–the one his teacher sends home weekly to let us know what they are working on in class, and God used it to get my attention about the business of worrying.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men. Col 3:23

My son’s verse of the week immediately convicted me.

Worrying (like a wart) is ugly. Worrying is most often self-centered.

All the worrying I have been doing has been because I’m focusing on myself–on the recognition I expect to get as a writer. On the impact I want to have. On what I want to do and how I want things to go and in the time frame in which I would like to manage things.

Those sorts of worries mean that I’ve been working for men.

I need to refocus my heart–off myself and onto Him–and give up those worries. They are useless because no matter what I’m doing, if I’m working for the Lord within His will, then I have absolutely nothing to worry about.

Share with Me: Who are you working for?  Do you find yourself worrying unnecessarily sometimes? How do you overcome it?

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