Are You Listening?

Are you listening?

I’ve heard that God speaks but I’ve never heard his voice.

My mother says that if God decides to speak to me then he will make sure that I hear him. She says that she has not heard of it happening very often.

‘Has God spoken to you then?’ I asked.

‘Oh no!’ she replied. 'Never. I don’t think he’d have much to say to little old me.' She paused for a moment, as she poured some milk into her tea. 'I used to have a friend back in the day who claimed that God spoke to her all the time. However, I think she was fibbing. I don’t really think that God talks to us,ordinary folks, only I suppose, if he has something very important to say.’

‘What kind of things did your friend say God spoke to her about?’ I inquired, hoping for some insight.

‘Oh ... I don’t really know. I’d have to think about it.’

I asked her again the next day and the next, pushing her for an answer.

‘If I remember rightly, she used to say that God told her how much he loved her and guidance for the future. A lot of silliness, if you ask me. After all, what kind of God would care about us all the way down here.’

I hoped my mother was wrong. I hoped that there was a God up there who spoke to us.

That very night, when my Dad got home from work I asked him about it.

‘Dad?’ I began bringing him his slippers.

‘Yes wee yin?‘ he replied. He’d called me wee yin since forever and even though I was taller than my mum and catching up on him, he still persisted.

‘Do you think that God speaks to us?’

My dad stopped untying his boot laces and looked at me, surprised.

‘That’s not exactly what I was expecting, wee yin. Here, let me finish taking off my boots and get my slippers on whilst you make me a nice cup of tea. Then we can talk, ok?’

I returned with his cup of tea and sat myself down at his feet.

‘So?’

‘To be honest with you, I’m not really sure that there is a God, lass, nevermind whether he speaks.’

I didn’t know what to say after that. We sat in silence for some time until it became awkward. Eventually my Dad got up out of his chair to start the fire and I took that as my opportunity to retreat.

That night there was a massive storm, the thunder cracked so loudly causing my whole body to respond in fright. I crept over to the window, opening the curtains just in time to to see the angry sky illuminated by a flash of lightening.

‘God,’ I wondered, ‘are you trying to say something?’

After saying that I felt really silly. I figured that God would have the good sense to communicate in a language I could understand.

The next day I spoke to a girl at school, Kiera. I knew her family, unlike ours who only attended on special occasions like Christmas and Easter, attended church regularly. I didn’t know her very well but every second Sunday, when Mum was working, Dad would take me to a greasy spoon on main street for breakfast and I would see her and her family going into the Baptist church across the street. At break time I sat down beside her and asked if she knew anything about God speaking. She told me that she thinks God does speak but you have to be really quiet and listen closely.

‘

That’s what my mum does.’ she advised.

“Has God spoken to you then?’ I asked.

She looked thoughtful for a moment and then replied, ‘I thought maybe he did once but now I’m not so sure.’

‘What did he say?’ I asked eagerly.

‘Hmmmmm ...’ she pondered, ‘it’s less what he said and more what I felt.’

‘What do you mean?’

She was silent for a moment and then she screwed up her face, ‘Stop asking so many questions!’

I thought maybe God told her not to tell.

That night, after we had eaten dinner, I excused myself and went to my room. I sat on my bed for as long as I could: listening, waiting. I strained my ears towards the heavens, hoping to hear God say something. I didn’t hear anything; nada, nothing, not even a whisper. I wasn’t really surprised. Still, I was disappointed.

Then I remembered that Kiera had said it was how she felt. I wan’t really sure what she meant. Had she meant a sensation on her body. Sometimes when I watch a movie and something special happens, like when a quarreling couple are reunited, I get this tingly feeling in my body. Also, when I watch a scary movie, though I don’t do that too often because sometimes they give me nightmares, the hairs on my arms stick up in fear. I wonder if that was what Kiera meant. Still, in that moment, there were no tingly sensations; there were no hairs standing on end.

Then all of a sudden I felt a rush of air come over me. Is this it. God?

‘‘What are you saying?’ I asked loudly (as though I had to increase my volume in order for him to hear me. Heaven is a long way away after all!).

‘Hey Samantha, who are you talking to in there?’ my mother called from outside the door.

I didn’t reply and I heard her sigh.

‘Please can you make sure your windows are shut, there’s a storm coming.’ she continued.

Looking over towards the window I saw that it was open. Letting out a big sigh of my own, I jumped down off my bed and pulled the window shut. I felt pretty silly. So much for God speaking to me. I flopped belly first back on to the bed, ready to abandon my quest.

Suddenly, a thought popped into my mind.

‘Don’t give up.’