Whenever I pray, I realize that my prayers typically end with something along the lines of, “But only if it is your will. Shut doors if it is not meant to be. Amen.” But what I really hope for is an answer from God that will be loud, immediate, and clear. I want to be Adam and Eve, in proximity to God. I want to be Moses by the burning bush with God’s booming voice. I want direction. I want clarity.
As I was reflecting on what it looks like for God to be so close and so clear, I realized that perhaps I was idealizing what God’s nearness means. Adam and Eve had the privilege of being in proximity to God, and yet they still made the mistake of not following God’s directions. They were surrounded by goodness and blessing in the garden, and yet they could not seem to see the bigger picture of God’s allowance of everything in the garden, everything except that one tree. Moses groaned at God’s clarity. “Who am I to appear before Pharaoh?” he said (Exodus 3:11, NLT). He pleaded, “Lord, please! Send anyone else” (Exodus 4:13). He tries more than once to get out of the task that God asks of him. Actually, the Old Testament narratives show again and again that even God’s directions through the law and clarity through a booming voice does not always guarantee that we will follow God’s voice. The grass is always greener on the other side, isn’t it?
I decided to check the grass on the other side, just to be sure. In the New Testament, Jesus is yet another representation of what it means to be in proximity to people, for God embodied to speak. The disciples themselves weren’t always sure of what Jesus was saying, probably because he wasn’t always the clearest all of the time. “Why do you use parables when you talk to the people?” they asked him. Jesus responded using Isaiah’s words, “For they look, but they don’t really see. They hear, but they don’t really listen or understand” (Matthew 13:10–13).
Jesus tells the disciples that even when he speaks clearly, it’s not guaranteed that people will listen. I wonder if he saw the example of people who did not listen throughout the Old Testament narratives, too. But Jesus seems to test it out by not speaking in parables for once, in Matthew 19:16-22. He proves the words of Isaiah right when he is as clear as possible to a young man who approaches him. “Teacher, teacher,” someone says to Jesus. “What good deed must I do to have eternal life?” Jesus tells the person to keep the commandments: do not murder, commit adultery, steal, or falsely testify. Honor your father and mother. Love your neighbor as yourself. “I’ve obeyed all these commandments,” the young man replied. “What else must I do?”
“Jesus told him, ‘If you want to be perfect, go and sell your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me’” (Matthew 19:21).
What did the young man do? Jesus’s direction was clear and direct. He wasn’t speaking in parables or unclear in any sense. He simply asks the young man to give up his possessions and money to the poor. I can’t imagine having Jesus in front of me, inviting me to come, follow him. I would be in awe at God in the flesh. I wonder if this young man even understood the weight of having God embodied in front of him. Would we also be unable to grasp the honor of Jesus in front of us? Would I do what Jesus asked of me? Would you?
The young man went away “sad, for he had many possessions.”
“Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘I tell you the truth, it is very hard for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of Heaven’” (Matthew 19:22–23).
For the stories scattered all throughout the Bible, both the Old and New Testament, it’s hit or miss whether or not people would listen. Even when we do hear God’s voice—and I don’t deny that there are moments in which God speaks clearly in both our minds and our hearts presently, as I’ve heard through testimony after testimony—it doesn’t always guarantee that we’ll listen to that voice. I’ve heard it through other, different testimonies of people wanting to run away from the call God has on their lives, just like Moses.
We don’t have Jesus presently walking on this earth to speak to us. We know, however, that as believers, Christ sent the Holy Spirit to guide us through our lives and decisions. Acts 2 showcases the sending of the Holy Spirit that happened only in community. It was the action of working together in community that resulted in believers devoting themselves to God, sharing in meals and prayer, and “praising God and enjoying the goodwill of all the people. And each day the Lord added to their fellowship those who were being saved” (Acts 2:47).
Perhaps, then, we need to re-envision what it looks like to hear God’s voice. God works through people, like God worked through Abraham, Moses, Ruth, David, the disciples, Paul, Peter, Timothy. God could have simply waved a magic wand to make things in the world “better” again, but God decided to enact a plan through everyday people like Rahab and Stephen. There are even powerful characters of the biblical stories who remain unnamed, but whose role in God’s plan is not diminished. Their stories are still included in our Scriptures, and often at key points in a narrative.
I have a tendency to overlook the power of the outworkings of God through people because I’m expecting God to speak to me at a burning bush or in a desert by myself. Although Moses is confronted by God one-on-one, God sends Aaron and Miriam to support Moses and lead in the ways that Moses was not gifted in. I’ve realized that God’s voice is most clearly heard through those in the community, through people whose gifts are different from one another. As Ephesians tells us, Christ left the church with gifts (Ephesians 4), and each gift represents a part of the body of Christ (1 Corinthians 12:12–31). We all need each other to live out more fully what we find throughout the Scriptures. We have each other to lean on when we cannot “hear” God’s voice, and we diminish the power of the Holy Spirit when we do not acknowledge that God works through us. When we pursue God in love and in community, maybe, just maybe, we are God’s voice embodied.
Michelle Navarrete is a daughter of Mexican immigrants from the suburbs of Chicago, IL. She currently lives in the most diverse square mile of the US in Clarkston, GA and is a PhD student at Emory University studying the Hebrew Bible. She is passionate about bringing her community alongside her, and she wishes to more fully bridge the spaces of church and academy.
