Tuesday, April 27, 2021        (today’s lectionary)
Listen to the trumpet of Jesus
My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.
I know one thing about following Jesus. It means following my intuitions, the wispy sort-of thoughts that attempt to guide my days. These impulses don’t have much chance, usually, because my heavy-handed mind is determined to plan and control most of what happens. I think what God wants for me is that I take time to be still, practice listening, and learn to follow what I hear, rather than second-guessing and rejecting it. Which is what I do a lot of the time.
But at least I don’t say “most” of the time anymore. That’s partly because I’m partly retired, so I have far more freedom to move about the country than I did when I was working at the News Gazette, or doing counseling without the freedom of zoom and facetime and google duo. So at least “some” of the time, I practice listening, more and more acting on what I hear.
What do I hear? Well, it isn’t usually what Jesus is saying to the crowd in Jerusalem.
I give my sheep eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand.
My half-thought/intuitions/words from God often move me away from negative judgments of others or myself. And they often move me toward someone to share words, a smiling glance or even a helping hand. I’m with family more than anyone else. I often choose to speak up and say what comes to mind, or conversely, to apologize after I spoke up in a way that hurt someone.
These moments seem simple, not profound. They are personal, not theological. But the depth of our family’s relationships depends on each of us listening for, and then acting on, what God says.
I suppose I could avoid calling this practice “hearing Jesus’ voice.” But I would be wrong if I did that. I want to get closer to God, get better at expecting assuming he’s around all the time, deep within all the moments of my life, waiting for me to notice.
And when I engage in a little conversation, speaking up to Jesus, responding to what I think I hear, there is no place else I’d rather be.
My Father, who has given you to me, is greater than all, and no one can take you out of the Father’s hand.
As Jesus says without blinking, “No one can take you out of the Father’s hand.” I believe this, an inch deep. I want to get so I believe it a foot deep, and then all the way down deep, through my head and my heart into my toes.
No one can take them out of the Father’s hand.
That’s me, dummy. That’s you, too. Wake up and smell the flowers. Jesus knows what he’s talking about. He certainly has the ear of his Dad. Don’t listen to anybody else.
The Father and I are one.
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