In our culture where we’re busily involved from early morning to late night, it isn’t easy for us to relax and become receptive to God.

We’d much rather make a list of what we need to do that day, rush to an empty chair, sit on the edge of it and say, “Father, I need your help,” hold the list up for a divine stamp of approval and then rush off, never thinking of God again that day.

In listening prayer we must learn to quiet our bodies and our minds and put ourselves in a receptive attitude, an attitude of waiting, of listening.

We live in a world of noises. We’ve become so accustomed to some of the noises that we’re unaware of them until we sit down to settle into silence, then we hear the construction crew down the block, an airplane overhead, the dryer, the children laughing, a dog barking, ad infinitum.

When you’ve decided to take time to become quiet and to relax, deal with the noises bothering you. If you can turn off the dryer for a while, good. You can’t stop the construction crew down the block or the airplane overhead, so bless them. You can say, “I bless the construction crew. The men are strong and healthy and are earning a living for their families. I’m glad they have work.” You can say, “Bless the plane and everyone on it. Uphold it with your love, Father.”

If you let noises upset you, your ear stays open to them. When you bless them, the ear tunes them down or out.

After dealing with noises, you’ll probably find all sorts of thoughts coming into your mind. I’ve discovered that thoughts are like children; ignore them and they come back again and again; listen to them and they will go away.

My daughter, Susan, used to come pull on my skirt when I was busy preparing a meal, grading papers, or working on an article which had to be in by a certain deadline. If I’d ignore her, she’d be persistent; however if I put down whatever I was doing, looked her straight in the eye and listened, then make an appropriate remark, she’d run off happy as could be. When I learned to take thoughts that came to me during listening time, listen to them, then spiritualize them, my listening time turned into a joy rather than a struggle.

For instance, I’d gone to the college chapel lounge to meet with the student prayer group one morning from six-thirty to seven. I’d finished my packing for the trip I was to take back East, and after the prayer group meeting, I’d pick up my bag and go to the airport. As I sat quietly, breathing deeply and relaxing, it suddenly popped into my mind that I hadn’t put out the garbage, and it was pickup day.

I immediately spiritualized the thought, “Oh, Father, lift out all the garbage in my life.” I imagined that just as I’d lift the sacks of garbage out of the containers, God lifted sacks of garbage out of me. I thanked him and waited in silence. Then I thought, “I forgot to water the plants,” and I said, “Father, I’m like parched ground. Water me with your Holy Spirit,” and I imagined a gentle rain of God’s Spirit coming down on me. I then slipped into an awareness of God’s presence and joined the others in the group in praying for friends and concerns.

At seven o’clock I went home, set out the garbage, and watered the house plants. I was glad the thoughts concerning them had come to me. I think God was speaking to me in the thoughts because he wanted me to take care of my responsibilities at home as well as travel many miles to lead a prayer lab.

God is speaking all the time, all the time, all the time, as Frank Laubach has said. I believe he is, but we need to learn to recognize his voice. We need to tune our ears to God’s wavelength, and just as a radio has to be delicately adjusted, to get the fine tuning we want, so our ears must be carefully tuned, to hear the voice of God. One way to hear God’s voice is by reading some devotional book or the Bible.

Once at a prayer lab a woman said, “God never speaks to me at all.”

“Do you read your Bible?” I asked her.

“Well,” she replied hesitantly, “no, I don’t read it.” Then I told the story of Howard.

I was at a church board meeting one night and made what I thought was a clever, cutting remark to Howard, one of the board members. I slept well that night, quite pleased with myself for being so witty and incisive. The next morning when I was having my listening time, I was reading from Matthew 5:23-24. “If, when you are bringing your gift to the altar, you suddenly remember that your brother has a grievance against you, leave your gift where it is before the altar. First go and make your peace with your brother, and only then come back and offer your gift (NEB).”

I was going to read on, but my eyes went back again to those verses, and I reread them. “OK, OK,” I thought, “I understand,” but my eyes returned to the verses again and I reread them. It dawned on me that God was talking to me about Howard. Howard had a grievance against me. I knew I was to go and apologize to him, but I didn’t want to at all. I tried to think of every reason why I shouldn’t go. The best reason seemed to be that the car probably wouldn’t start. It was a cold morning, and often on cold mornings the car just wouldn’t start. But I seemed to hear a voice say, “Why don’t you try it, anyway?” I slipped into my coat, got the car key, went out the kitchen door into the garage, got into the car, put the key in, turned it on, and the motor roared to life. Reluctantly I got out, opened the garage door, got back in, backed out, wheeled around, and headed down the dirt road to the highway, thinking, “There’s that bad curve on the way to Howard’s. I’ll probably hit loose gravel and land in the ditch.” I was almost anticipating the curve, the loose gravel and the ditch when I turned off the highway and onto the graveled road. I sailed past the bad curve without a hitch and thought, “Maybe Howard’s finished the milking and he’s gone into town already,” but when I pulled into the lane, I saw the milking parlor lights on.

Oh, how I wanted to swing the car around and head home, but I didn’t. Somehow, I kept going. I stopped the car and sat trying to figure out how I could apologize to Howard without seeming like a fool. I’d go in, walk up to him, shake his hand, and say, “Howard, I want to apologize for saying what I did last night. I know I hurt you by saying it. I’m sorry,” and I’d turn around and walk out.

Well, I got out of the car and walked to the door of the milking parlor. As I opened the door the smell of warm milk mingled with manure hit me. I was nauseated and I wanted to run, but Howard saw me. He came toward me, smelly and rough in his work clothes, and suddenly what I’d planned to say was forgotten. I was miserable that I had hurt this good man. I blurted out, “Howard, I’m so sorry for what I said last night. I’m sorry I hurt you. Will you forgive me?” and I started to cry. I saw his face crumple, too, and we ran to each other. There we stood, our arms around each other, my head buried in his chest, and there in that smelly old milking parlor we experienced the forgiveness and love of each other and God. Finally I lifted my head, and Howard and I smiled at each other through our tears.

A healing had taken place in a few minutes, and we were at peace with each other.

The car seemed to fly home on wings of joy and praise. I wondered how I could ever have felt I didn’t want to go see Howard and apologize. I got home, took off my coat, walked over to the easy chair, sat down, picked up my Bible, then closed my eyes and said, “Father, I fought it all the way, but I did what you said. I made peace with my brother, and I’m glad, really glad, that you made me do it. Thank you, thank you!”

God speaks to us through his Word, often very pointedly as he did with me about Howard, but at other times he speaks to assure us that he’s leading and helping us.

When we lived in Madagascar and Ted was working for Church World Service, he and I started reading the Psalms aloud after we were in bed at night. Ted went on a trip to the eastern coast, and I read a psalm aloud each night.

Ted was killed on that trip, when the single engine plane he and three other men were in crashed into a mountain. But I didn’t learn about his death until four days after it happened. When he didn’t return home as expected, I asked a friend, who was a pilot, to call the airport for me to see what radio communication there had been. He reported that the men had radioed they were leaving Maroansetra that morning and would fly to Nossi-Bé. There was no word the next day, but the following day I learned that the plane had never reached its destination. The American Embassy plane, the French Embassy plane, and several Aero-club planes were dispatched to scour the countryside. During the period of waiting for news, there was within me a feeling of great strength and power. I knew that wherever Ted was, he was in God’s Hands. Word finally came that the plane had been found and that all had died in the crash. That strength and power within stayed strong and steady. Ted and I had often talked of life after death and both felt that at death one moves into an expanded life, a new dimension, into one of the many mansions Jesus talked about before his death.

That night after the news came that Ted was dead, I went to bed and picked up the Bible. I didn’t know just what my daughters and I would do, but I felt we had to return to the States. I opened the Bible to the Thirty-second Psalm. My eyes were immediately fixed on the eighth verse, “I will instruct you and teach you the way you should go.” I closed my eyes and thanked God for his words of assurance to me.

About a week later, I went through Ted’s papers. He wrote a great deal. He’d done quite a lot of photo-journalism. He wrote, from time to time, as though he were an older pastor, advising a younger one named Tom on some problem. Out of a stack of papers a foot and a half high, I just happened to pull one sheet of paper. It was a letter to Tom suggesting what he should say to a young widow whose husband had died very suddenly. I suppose I’ll always remember one of the sentences that leaped out at me. “Certainly God didn’t cause this tragedy, but God can use it for good.” I knew that God was speaking to me, that I had been led to pull that particular sheet out of the stack. Tears of joy slipped down my cheeks and I murmured over and over, “Thank you, thank you.”

God speaks to us today if we have ears to hear, and one beautiful way he speaks is through other people.

Often after a prayer lab, a person will come up to me and ask if I’d been “picking up” his particular need because what I’d said had spoken directly to him. I have to admit that I hadn’t directly “picked up” his need but I had tried to stay open to the Holy Spirit of God so that he could minister to anyone who needed him. Apparently the Holy Spirit had known his need and had met it.

God often speaks through people in a prayer group. For instance, the group grows quiet and waits in the silence. As thoughts come to various ones. these are shared. The sharing may be a verse of Scripture, a line from a hymn, or a song someone starts and the rest join in on. Those in the group find God speaking to them and ministering to them through the others in the group.

One time God spoke directly and pointedly to me through a woman who was teaching a class at the Church of the Brethren Seminary in Chicago. We had moved to Chicago after a term of service for the church in Iraq. Our first daughter, Fran, was just a baby. Ted took a full schedule of classes and also worked eight hours a day. I didn’t have the opportunity to take any classes, but I did sit in on a class for ministers’ wives called The Devotional Life whenever I could. This particular night, I was filled with joy because the teacher, Anna Mow, was thrilling me with what she was saying. I guess I was sitting in the seat smiling and nodding my head as she talked as I often do when I agree with people. Suddenly Anna stopped what she was saying and looked at me.

“What are you nodding your head for; you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She must have carried on the class, I don’t remember. I only knew that I had never been so humiliated in my whole life. I prayed that the floor would open up and swallow me. As soon as class was over, I slipped out a nearby door and went home and cried.

Then I got mad. “Just who does she think she is that she can humiliate me? She doesn’t have any idea of all the experiences with God I’ve had.” I looked at myself and felt that I was as perfect as a human could be. I really didn’t have any faults. That poor woman just didn’t know what she was talking about. I’d show her. I’d pray that God would reveal my faults to me if I had any and when he didn’t reveal any to me, I’d go to her and tell her.

Well, I flippantly prayed that God would reveal my faults to me, and as the days went by he began to show me just what I was really like.

It was awful. One after another fault was shown me, and I got to the point that I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t keep food down. I was miserable for days and days. Finally I had sense enough to go talk with Anna Mow and tell her how I had reacted to her humiliating me and also tell her how very grateful I now was because I was seeing myself as I really was. Her answer was, “We don’t see the dust until the light is turned on.” Then she prayed with me, asking God to help make me into the person he wanted me to be, and I was able to look at myself again, knowing that he was at work in me. As painful as the whole experience was, I’m glad for it, and I feel sure that God was speaking to me through Anna. I do recommend, though, that if you ever ask God to reveal your faults to you, that you add, “Just one at a time, please.”

Sometimes in waiting quietly in God’s presence, pictures come to mind, and words and thoughts. It’s good to have pencil and paper available so that you can jot these pictures and thoughts down. God speaks to us through our imaginings and thoughts, and it’s always wise to ask for an interpretation. I know that the first time a picture came to me, I didn’t know what it meant. I was a college girl. I was attending a retreat and was a part of a prayer group. A woman in the group had asked for prayer for her mother, but she hadn’t said what was wrong with her mother. I closed my eyes, and immediately I saw with my inner eye myself carrying a woman in my arms up some marble steps. At the top of the steps, Jesus stood. I laid the woman down at his feet.

She sat up and began to sing. After the prayer group, I talked with the woman. Her mother was partially paralyzed in the throat. Her doctor had recommended that she sing a lot as therapy.

I learned as more and more of these pictures came to me to ask, “Father, what does this mean?” Not always, but most of the time, an interpretation came to me.

If the pictures or thoughts involve someone else, ask God if you are to share what came, with that person. Pray the increase-decrease prayer about this, and if the desire to share with them increases, then do so. Often you won’t understand what you see or hear, but the other person you share it with will. But be careful that you don’t get guidance for other people. They are responsible to get their own guidance. As long as you act as a mediator for them, they won’t deepen their own relationship with God, or at least, they’re less likely to do SO.

Sometimes during listening prayer ideas flow readily, and you write them down. When you finish you discover that you have some beautiful, helpful thoughts that seem not only to apply to you but seem to have a universal application. This is wonderful, and you may be led to share what comes through with others who will be blessed also by what you receive.

There is a caution here, however, that I feel I must make. There may be times when the pencil you use seems to take on a life of its own and write and write and write. This is known as automatic handwriting, and it can be extremely dangerous. Always go into a time of listening prayer asking the protection and love of Jesus to surround you because if you don’t, you leave yourself wide open to any spirit that may be around, and what you want is the Holy Spirit of God to come to you.

I have worked with several people who have done automatic writing. The pattern has always been the same. The messages are beautiful, inspiring, helpful to begin with. Later they begin subtly to change in tone until the messages become ugly. When the writer tries to stop writing, he begins to hear sounds day and night and feels prickles on the body. He becomes extremely upset emotionally, thinking he’s going insane. Only months of working with a person like this brings release. Then the person can never go back to writing. My advice is this: Leave automatic writing alone, even though you’ve received wonderful messages so far. The pattern just hasn’t been completely laid out yet, you just haven’t moved into the second, third, and fourth stages. The hell you will go through is not worth what you’re receiving now.

My advice may seem extreme, but I have seen too many people who’ve become involved in this stage of listening who couldn’t handle what happened. Keep your eyes on Jesus. Bring everything to him. He can handle anything.

There’s always more good unfolding as you follow him, so don’t let yourself be sidetracked.

Also, if you begin to see with your inner eye people who talk directly to you, always ask if the spirit comes in the Name of Jesus. You know, we’re told in 1 John 4:1-3, “Don’t trust every spirit, dear friends of mine, but test them to discover whether they come from God or not. … You can test them in this simple way: every spirit that acknowledges the fact that Jesus, God’s Christ, actually became man, comes from God, but the spirit which denies this fact does not come from God (Phillips).” If you can get help from the highest level, God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, why settle for anything less?

There is always the possibility that we become satisfied too early in our listening prayer.

We are so pleased with what comes to us in the listening that we would simply stay there forever. Usually, however, we have enough sense to realize that what we need from our listening is strength and power to live our everyday, workaday lives in a creative, triumphant way.

It’s wonderful to have a quiet time daily, to pull off into a secluded place and be alone and have experiences, but if that quiet time and the experiences don’t enable you to meet your responsibilities in your work and your home, of what value are they really? It’s so easy to delude ourselves that we are becoming spiritual because we have a daily quiet time and some experiences. But how well do you get along with your colleagues, your family, your friends? You bring glory to God when you’re involved in daily life, trying to let his love flow trough you in each situation and to each person.

Daily quiet time used to be so important to me that I would yell at my children in “righteous indignation” when they wouldn’t be still so I could have my quiet time. Then it would take me a long time to settle down into the silence because of the turmoil within created when I got upset with them. I finally realized that letting love flow through me to my children was more important than having a little experience in some quiet corner. So I arranged to have my quiet time either when the children were in bed or outside playing. I became a much more loving mother.

We’ve talked about many levels of listening prayer, but there is a level of listening prayer which goes far beyond anything we’ve talked about so far. At this level you are aware that God pours himself into and around and through you in a holy quietness which is healing to your body and mind and spirit. There is no feeling of separation. There is only a feeling and knowing of oneness or at-one-ment with him. You realize with quiet joy that he is yours and you are his.

This is the beginning of the ultimate glory of prayer. At last you experience what God would have you experience all the time.