There is a moment in every believer’s life when you sense that something is off. You believe in God. You know the stories. You’ve prayed prayers. You’ve stood in worship. You’ve read your Bible. You’ve walked the Christian path long enough to recognize its contours. And yet — a quiet ache grows in the interior places of your soul. Something feels muted. Distant. Faint. It’s as though you keep reaching for a voice that once felt close but now seems far away. There is faith, but the frequency feels scrambled. You wonder, “Lord, why can’t I hear You the way I used to?”
That question is not new. It’s as old as the prophets, as raw as the psalms, as honest as the disciples who walked beside Jesus and still needed clarity. In a world of competing voices — each louder, sharper, more demanding than the last — discerning God’s voice has become one of the great spiritual battles of our time. The modern soul is overstimulated, overstressed, and overrun with noise. We are connected to everyone and attuned to no one. We have access to more information than any generation before us, but we are starving for wisdom. Our ears are full, but our hearts are empty.
When Jesus said, “My sheep hear My voice,” He wasn’t describing a religious elite. He was describing what normal Christian life looks like. The Christian faith was never meant to be lived at a distance. It was never meant to be a set of doctrines without a living relationship. It was never meant to be a silent march through dry landscapes of obligation. Christianity is not simply believing in God; it is learning to recognize His voice. It is hearing His call in the deepest parts of who you are. It is walking with Him in a way that shapes your instincts, your reactions, your desires, and your decisions.
Something has happened to us. We have become distracted to the point of deafness. Our lives are filled with alerts, updates, vibrations, notifications, reminders, interruptions, and endless streams of content. And while none of those things seem dangerous on their own, together they form a relentless assault on our attention. They train the mind to live in a constant state of fragmentation. They make stillness uncomfortable. Silence feels foreign. Focus feels impossible. And listening — real listening — becomes a lost art.
In the first message — Unfollow Me — we learned that discipleship begins with subtraction. It begins with stepping out of the center of our own universe. It begins with dethroning the self. But unfollowing ourselves only clears the stage.
Now comes the question that shapes the entire direction of the soul: Who or what fills the silence left behind? If we unfollow the wrong voice but never tune into the right One, the old voice will return louder than ever. Self doesn’t like being dethroned. It fights to regain the microphone.
This is why Jesus says, “My sheep hear My voice.” Not “My sheep try to hear My voice.” Not “My sheep hear My voice occasionally.” But “My sheep hear My voice.” The defining characteristic of someone who belongs to Jesus is not perfection. It is not performance. It is not theological precision. It is not biblical brilliance. It is the capacity to hear the Shepherd.
But we must be honest — hearing God is not always easy. There are days when the heavens feel silent. There are nights when prayer feels like speaking into the dark. There are seasons when God seems still while the world spins chaotically around us. And if we’re not careful, that silence becomes discouraging. We begin assuming the problem is Him, when in reality, the problem is usually the noise around us, and sometimes the noise within us.
Hearing the voice of God requires two movements: quieting the world and quieting the self. You can silence your phone and still carry chaos in your soul. You can step into a quiet room and still be overrun by internal static — worries, fears, ambitions, regrets, anxieties, hidden anger, unresolved wounds, unconfessed sin, and the constant hum of self-talk. Even when the world is quiet, the self keeps shouting.
This is why Jesus begins His public ministry in the wilderness. Before He heals, teaches, preaches, or calls disciples, He withdraws. He steps into silence before He steps into ministry. He confronts temptation before He confronts crowds. He listens to the Father before He speaks to the world. Jesus models a life tuned to the Father’s voice — not because He needed clarity, but because we do.
And here lies the deep truth many modern Christians never fully grasp: hearing God is not the reward of spiritual elites — it is the birthright of every believer. But like any birthright, it can be neglected. It can be drowned out. It can be buried beneath layers of noise, busyness, distraction, and self-preoccupation. If the soul is to hear God again, it must relearn the rhythm of quiet. It must relearn the discipline of attention. It must relearn the posture of listening.
Christian maturity is less about gaining more answers and more about discerning God’s voice. More information doesn’t make us more spiritual. More content doesn’t make us more like Jesus. More noise doesn’t make us more faithful. What we need is not more stimuli — but more stillness. Not more opinions — but more obedience. Not more affirmation — but more alignment. And alignment requires hearing.
The challenge is that we often want God to speak with power while living lives that avoid quietness. We want God to break into our chaos while we refuse to slow down long enough to recognize His whisper. We want burning bushes while running past the wilderness at full speed. But God’s voice is heard not in the earthquake, not in the fire, but in the still, small whisper — a whisper that can only be discerned by a soul that has learned to slow down.
The world is loud. God is not. The world shouts. God whispers. The world demands your attention. God invites your affection. And the voice you hear most clearly is the voice you give your life’s attention to. If you give the world your attention, the world will shape you. If you give God your attention, God will shape you. Hearing His voice begins with a decision to slow down long enough to notice Him.
There is something profoundly revealing about the metaphor Jesus uses: “My sheep hear My voice.” Sheep do not recognize a shepherd’s voice because they are brilliant. They recognize it because they belong. The bond between shepherd and sheep is relational, not intellectual. Hearing God is not about decoding spiritual messages or achieving a mystical state. It is about knowing the One who speaks. It is about familiarity cultivated through proximity, repetition, affection, and trust. The more you walk with Jesus, the more His voice becomes unmistakable.
When Jesus calls us to hear Him, He is calling us into a relationship where His tone shapes our decisions, His truth shapes our convictions, and His presence shapes our identity. But for most of us, life’s noise has drowned out that relationship. We try to hear God on the fly, in the margins, on the run, squeezed between obligations. We want clarity without stillness, guidance without surrender, direction without intimacy. But God does not shout over the noise. He waits for us to grow quiet.
There are four voices that tend to drown out the voice of God: the voice of culture, the voice of fear, the voice of flesh, and the voice of the enemy. These voices are not always overt. In fact, they are most dangerous when they disguise themselves as common sense, self-protection, or personal truth. Culture speaks in the language of acceptance: “Do what feels right.” Fear speaks in the language of self-preservation: “Don’t take risks.” Flesh speaks in the language of desire: “You deserve this.” And the enemy speaks in the language of distortion: “Did God really say…?”
Each of these voices competes with the voice of the Shepherd. Each attempts to shape our identity. Each attempts to guide our choices. And each must be intentionally quieted if we are to hear God clearly. You cannot follow the Shepherd while listening to the wolves.
One of the most subtle obstacles to hearing God is impatience. We live in a culture that has conditioned us to expect instant results — instant feedback, instant responses, instant gratification, instant clarity. But God does not operate on demand. He is not a vending machine dispensing divine guidance. His voice emerges most clearly in those willing to wait. Waiting is not passive. Waiting is not avoidance. Waiting is an act of trust. When you wait upon the Lord, you are allowing His timing to override your urgency. You are acknowledging that His wisdom is greater than your impulses.
The disciples learned this the hard way. After the resurrection, Jesus told them to wait in Jerusalem for the Holy Spirit. But waiting is uncomfortable. Waiting reveals our dependence. Waiting exposes our priorities. Waiting confronts our need to control. And yet, it is in the waiting that God speaks most profoundly. When the disciples waited, the Spirit came. When they sat still, heaven moved.
Hearing the voice of God becomes possible only when the soul grows quiet. But quietness is not merely the absence of noise; it is the presence of awareness. It is creating room within yourself for God to speak. It is training your heart to remain open, attentive, and expectant. This kind of listening does not happen accidentally. It is intentional. It is cultivated. It is practiced.
One of the most practical ways to hear God is through His Word. Scripture is the clearest voice of God we possess. But the Bible is not heard through hurried reading. It is heard through meditation — slowly absorbing, savoring, reflecting, praying, and pondering. Scripture becomes living and active when we linger with it, not when we rush through it. The person who meditates on the Word day and night is described as a tree planted by streams of water — deeply rooted, nourished, steady, fruitful. That steadiness comes from hearing God regularly.
Prayer is another avenue of listening, not merely speaking. Too often, prayer becomes a monologue instead of a dialogue. We speak our needs, concerns, fears, and frustrations, and then we move on. But prayer is also waiting in God’s presence, letting the Spirit bring clarity, conviction, comfort, and direction. It is resting in the stillness of His nearness. It is sitting with open hands and open heart and saying, “Speak, Lord, Your servant is listening.”
The more you practice stillness, the more you learn to distinguish God’s voice from the noise. His voice carries truth, peace, conviction, alignment, and clarity. His voice does not flatter or condemn. It does not manipulate. It does not inflame anxiety. It does not shame. God’s voice draws you toward Him with a love that corrects without crushing, convicts without humiliating, guides without coercing, and comforts without numbing.
Perhaps the most important truth about hearing God is this: He is speaking more often than we are listening. God is not silent. We are distracted. God is not distant. We are elsewhere. God is not indifferent. We are unfocused. The key to hearing Him is not forcing God to speak louder, but training ourselves to become quieter.
There is a moment in Elijah’s story that captures this beautifully. Elijah was overwhelmed by fear, exhausted from ministry, and hiding from danger. He needed God’s voice. He longed for reassurance. He expected God to show up in power — wind, fire, earthquake. But God was not in those. Instead, God was in a whisper. Why a whisper? Because you only whisper to someone close. God whispers to draw us near. He whispers so we will lean in. He whispers so we will silence all other voices.
When you begin hearing God’s voice again, something shifts in your soul. Anxiety loses its grip. Confusion melts. Direction clears. Peace settles. Wisdom grows. Your instincts sharpen. Your identity stabilizes. And most importantly, your love for Jesus deepens. Hearing Him changes everything.
There is a profound connection between hearing Jesus and following Him. If you cannot hear Him, you cannot follow Him. If you cannot follow Him, you will default to following yourself. This is why Part 1 and Part 2 must be held together. You unfollow yourself so you can hear Jesus. You hear Jesus so you can follow Him. And you follow Him so you can become the person God created you to be.
But there is a danger — one that many Christians fall into without realizing it. We want to hear God without surrendering to what He says. We want clarity without obedience. We want revelation without repentance. We want guidance without yielding our own preferences. But the voice of God is not entertainment. It is not background noise. It is not optional advice. It is the guiding force of discipleship.
The more you obey what you already know God has said, the more clearly you will hear what He says next. Disobedience clouds the frequency. Compromise muffles the signal. Hidden sin distorts the message. A divided heart creates static. God does not speak to spectators. He speaks to disciples — people willing to walk wherever the Shepherd leads.
Hearing God becomes clearer when you live with a posture of “yes.” A posture that says, “Lord, whatever You say, I will obey, even before I know the details.” When your heart carries that posture, heaven opens. When your spirit is surrendered, the whisper becomes unmistakable. God speaks most clearly to those most willing to obey.
One of the reasons many believers struggle to hear God is because they are waiting for a voice while ignoring Scripture. They want a word from God while neglecting the words God has already spoken. The primary way God speaks is through His Word. When you deepen your relationship with Scripture, you deepen your ability to recognize the Shepherd’s voice. The Spirit will never contradict Scripture. He will always illuminate it, amplify it, and guide you through it.
Another reason hearing God becomes difficult is because we tend to compartmentalize our spiritual life. We have moments for God — devotion, church, worship, prayer — but the rest of life is treated as our own. We listen briefly, then rush into our day as if God stopped speaking after the amen. But the Shepherd walks with us throughout the day. His voice is not confined to sacred moments. He speaks in the ordinary — in conversations, decisions, interruptions, tensions, rest, work, and play. The more aware you become that His presence is with you, the more easily you will discern His voice in the everyday rhythms of life.
But perhaps the most transformative aspect of hearing God is what it produces in us: alignment. Hearing God aligns the soul. It brings your desires into alignment with His will. It brings your emotions into alignment with His truth. It brings your decisions into alignment with His wisdom. It brings your identity into alignment with His love. A person who hears God becomes steady. They become anchored. They become deeply rooted. The winds of culture shift, but they remain stable. The storms of life come, but they remain grounded. The noise of the world increases, but they remain attuned to the Shepherd.
Hearing God is not about technique; it is about relationship. Not about skill; but about surrender. Not about trying harder; but about being still. God’s voice does not grow louder because we strain; it becomes clearer because we trust. If you want to hear Him more, draw closer. If you want clarity, seek intimacy. If you want direction, seek His presence. The Shepherd does not hide His voice from His sheep. He invites us to come close enough to hear the whisper.
At the heart of the Christian life is this simple truth: The voice you follow determines the person you become. Follow culture, and you will become anxious. Follow fear, and you will become timid. Follow flesh, and you will become enslaved. Follow the enemy, and you will become deceived. But follow Jesus — truly hear Him — and you will become whole.
Everything changes when the Shepherd’s voice becomes the loudest voice in your life. Decisions change. Priorities change. Relationships change. Reactions change. Habits change. Identity changes. Direction changes. You begin to live with a clarity the world cannot give and a peace the world cannot take. You begin to walk with confidence, not because you know the path, but because you know the Shepherd.
(This message leads us directly into Part 3 of this series — the final movement of discipleship: Follow Me. Because once you have unfollowed yourself, and once you have learned to hear the Shepherd’s voice, the only response left is to follow Him wherever He leads.)
(And that journey — the real journey of discipleship — is the subject of the next message.)
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Appeal
There may be someone here today who has felt distant from God. Someone who believes, but cannot hear. Someone who prays, but feels no response. Someone who reads the Word, but feels no spark. Someone who wonders if God has moved away or grown silent. If that is you, hear this truth: God has not moved. God has not grown silent. God has not forgotten you. The Shepherd has been whispering all along, waiting for you to draw near. Today, take a step toward quiet. Take a step toward stillness. Take a step toward surrender. Lay down the noise, the distraction, the hurry, the fear, and open your heart again. The Shepherd’s voice is waiting.
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Closing Prayer
Lord Jesus,
We come to You weary from the noise, overwhelmed by the world around us and the world within us. We confess that we have listened more to the voices of culture, fear, and self than to the voice of our Shepherd. Today, quiet our souls. Slow our spirits. Clear our minds. Tune our hearts to Your whisper. Speak to us again in the stillness. Draw us close enough to hear. Deepen our trust, strengthen our surrender, and teach us to walk in step with Your voice.
In Your holy and beautiful name, Amen.
