Hearing God’s Voice

Sermon from 2nd June 2024

(Opening up the theme at the start of the service)

Last Thursday was the anniversary of the execution of Joan of Arc. In George Bernard Shaw’s play, St Joan, there is a conversation between her and a Captain called Robert who asks her: What did you mean when you said that St Catherine and St Margaret talked to you every day?

Joan replies: “They do. ”

“What are they like?”

“I will tell you nothing about that: they have not given me leave.”

“But you actually see them; and they talk to you just as I am talking to you?”

“No: it is quite different. I cannot tell you: you must not talk to me about my voices.”

“How do you mean? voices?”

“I hear voices telling me what to do. They come from God.”

“They come from your imagination.”

“Of course. That is how the messages of God come to us.”

Today, we are invited to think about – How does God speak to us? And how do we recognise his voice?

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Bible reading:

1 Samuel 3 v1-10 – “Speak Lord for your servant listens”

Mark 2v23 – chapter 3 v6 – “They watched Jesus to see whether he would heal on the Sabbath, so that they might accuse him.”

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The voice that the young boy Samuel hears is so like a human voice that he is sure it can only be the voice of Eli – after all, there is no one else around at night in the Shiloh sanctuary. Did sound waves hit his ear drums, or did something happen nearer the centre of his brain so that the effect was the same? And when we read that “the Lord came and stood there”, did his eyes actually see something? The infinite, incorporeal creator of the universe? Or did he sense a divine presence and his mind translate that into an image he could comprehend – through his imagination? And does it actually matter?

In our psychologically sophisticated age, we tend – like Robert -to be a bit wary of such experiences. They sometimes seem to be connected to some form of mental disturbance. However, as Joan points out, that doesn’t necessarily mean they are not real.

A friend of ours who used to be a chaplain in a mental hospital wondered whether the people who are hospitalised today for religious “delusions” would, in a past age, have been the prophets in a community, but that without a wise and supportive religious community around them, they can tip over into ill health.

When we say something is “just your imagination” we are suggesting that it is not real – it is imaginary. However, we need to be wary of disparaging the imagination. It’s a very powerful part of what it is to be human. The ability to hold in our mind’s eye, our mind’s ear, and so on – something that is not. A story. A scientific hypothesis. A future. A possibility. A painting.

A piece of music. A journey. A feeling. It does not exist out there but it is very real in here.

Imagination doubtless lies behind all the greatest achievements of science, the arts, exploration, compassion and so on.

So to say that God speaks to us through our imagination is not at all surprising. We can use it to bring a bible story alive, to place ourselves within a gospel scene and experience Jesus speaking to us. It enables us to identify with suffering brothers and sisters, moving us to prayer and action. Or we can use it to reflect back on our misdeeds, to realise the hurt we may have caused – leading to penitence and the desire for forgiveness and change. In so many ways, our imagination may be how God communicates with us.

But Samuel needed help to discern that it was God speaking to him. He needed Eli – who we are told in the previous chapter, had failed God so badly, not preventing his sons from pilfering the food offerings or sleeping with the women who served at the entrance of the holy place. We are told that his sight was failing – not just his eyes but his inner vision – “the lamp of God had not yet gone out”. Eli still had enough wisdom to realise what was going on. The lamp of God in him enabled the gift of discernment in an elderly and far from perfect human being. In another case someone might need to help to realise that it was not in fact God.

Like Jesus, discerning that what the religious leaders of his day thought was the voice of God in their religious tradition was nothing of the sort. Jesus is angry with them at various times in the gospels, mainly because they weren’t able to see that religious faith is meant to aid human flourishing and not harm it.

And in our own time, all too frequently we hear of a church leader who has been led astray by allowing themselves to believe that God has told them to do something that was horribly abusive in one way or another. Wherever there is power, leaders need to be accountable to allow others to discern whether their imaginings are of God or not.

Of course, most spiritual experiences are much more everyday and ordinary than those of Samuel or Joan of Arc. And yet God may still be speaking to us through them. A sudden thought popping into our head as we walk down the street. A sentence that jumps out at us when we are reading scripture or a novel. An event or pattern of events that seems meaningful. A hunch that we can’t shake off.

There are no guarantees that it is not “just” our imagination or our own desires. And we know how easily we can be deceived. But Jesus says that by their fruits we will know them.

So if something leads us or others or the world towards a more Christ-like, we can trust that it is of God. We are told that in Samuel’s day “the word of the Lord was rare and visions were not widespread.” We may be tempted to think that the same is true in our day. But God has not changed, and neither – in essential ways – has humanity.

Let’s not imagine that God isn’t speaking to us – or appearing to us – all the time. As one of the mystics wrote – every day is a messenger from God. We are called to recognise – in the ordinary – or extraordinary – events of our lives what that message is. And then, like Samuel, to act on it.

by David Paton-Williams