“The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your fellow Israelites. You must listen to him.”

Deuteronomy 18:15

I often equate listening to God with silence. But that’s not an easy task. At my home, the quiet is routinely pierced by the dog next door, the ever-present highway noise that rumbles a half-mile away, or neighbors who seem to speak a few decibels higher than necessary.

A walk in the woods offers moments of quietness, but still my own feet crush the ground and my jacket crumples in the crisp air. A tranquil moment on the ocean shore is replete with the frothy tide and gulls in the air. Even an escape to the mountains doesn’t bring the requisite quiet. Trees crack and sway with the wind and rivers tumble pebbles down the waterway.

When I do find an escape, I can never really run from the noise of my mind. Internally, my spirit shouts with selfish desire and my flesh moans in complaint. At times, there is no clear escape from that spiritual noise pollution. The distractions of life seem to edge out the voice of God.

But maybe I’m listening for God in all the wrong places. When he told Moses that he would raise up a line of prophets to speak his word, it’s because they weren’t listening. They had seen his wonders first-hand—the Red Sea parting, the morning manna, and the finger-chiseled commandments. Yet, they seemed to miss the obvious.

For generations after Moses, a prophet would rise and proclaim, “Thus says the Lord.” The final prophet in this plan was Jesus. And his word—once we allow it room in our hearts—is loud and clear. I really don’t need a quiet place. I don’t need a monastic retreat. I don’t need a cone of silence to protect me from the world. I can carve out just a moment, seek him out, and he will speak the prophetic voice.

This Lenten season, may you purposefully carve time with him just to listen—to hear his voice. It may be in a noisy stadium, in the break room at work, on the rumbling commuter train. But, stand for just a moment and ask for him to speak—and then listen.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION: When have you heard God speak in a noisy place? Are you missing out on his voice because you don’t think the circumstances are right? How can you take time out this Lenten season to listen?

PRAYER: Thank you, God, for still speaking to us. It may not be in the sign of a burning bush or a whirlwind, but still you speak. Teach me how to listen. Open my ears that I may hear your wondrous truth. During these next few days, teach me to be still and to wait upon you. Amen.