“And he said, ‘Go out and stand on the mount before the Lord.’ And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.” 1 Kings 19:11-12
The paradox of hearing God lies in posture. True listening begins not by changing how you listen, but by changing what you listen for. The first step is to stop saying, “I’m not hearing anything,” and instead declare, “I sense his peace; that is his voice.” Shift your focus from straining to hear to learning to abide in his presence.
This need for right posture is starkly illustrated in Exodus 20:18-21. After the thunder, lightning, and trumpet blast at Sinai, the people said to Moses, “You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, lest we die.” Their hearts were in a posture of fear and distance. They wanted the message, but not the intimate encounter with the Messenger. The children of Israel wanted to hear God speak to them, but the posture of their hearts was not right. They observed the external rituals of cleansing (Exodus 19:10-15), but their hearts were not connected in covenantal trust.
Herein lies the difference between the Old and the New Covenant. At Sinai, God’s voice inspired terror, revealing the holiness that exposes sin. But in Christ, God’s voice brings peace, revealing the grace that speaks restoration. We are no longer at the foot of a trembling mountain; we are seated in heavenly places, and the Spirit of adoption cries within us, “Abba, Father” (Romans 8:15). The veil has been torn, and we are invited to come boldly to the throne of grace (Hebrews 4:16), not to hear a voice that condemns, but to hear the whisper that calls us beloved.
This is the promise of Pentecost: the Holy Spirit dwelling within, teaching us all things and bringing to remembrance the words of Christ (John 14:26). His primary language in our hearts is not one of trembling and fear, but of peace and assurance. This is why we are commanded to let the peace of Christ rule in our hearts (Colossians 3:15). The Greek word for “rule” means to act as an umpire, to arbitrate and govern. The settled peace of God in your spirit is not passive silence; it is the active, guiding voice of the Holy Spirit. When you sense his peace, you are hearing his governance. When that peace withdraws, it is his warning.
Our journey in hearing God finds its perfect model and promise in the words of our Good Shepherd: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” John 10:27. This is a continuous, relational knowing. The posture of the sheep is not one of straining from a distance, but of trusting nearness.
Father, in the name of Jesus,
we quiet our hearts before you now.
We confess that we have often listened for the wind, the earthquake, and the fire,
while overlooking the still, small whisper of your Spirit.
Forgive us for the posture of Sinai, the fear, the distance, the desire for a messenger instead of your presence.
We thank you for the cross of Christ, which has torn the veil and brought us near.
We receive the Spirit of adoption and we cry out, “Abba, Father.”
We ask now for ears to hear.
Attune our spirits to the frequency of your peace.
Teach us to abide, to rest, and to let the peace of Christ be the umpire in our hearts.
When we are faced with decisions, uncertainties, or trials,
let the first sound we seek be not the noise of the storm, but the whisper of your love.
Author
kay.alli@legalview.co.uk