I was having trouble listening to people, especially in crowded environments. Whenever I was in conversation, people’s voices seemed to fade into the background noise. So, I took the worst course of action:
I googled it.
This did not comfort me.
After some procrastination and a feeble attempt to deny anything might be wrong, I scheduled a hearing appointment with an audiologist. I took the next available appointment about one month in the distance.
Then, I waited.
The Waiting is Difficult
The waiting was difficult. I noticed my tinnitus more than usual. I started second-guessing if I heard things correctly. I feared the genes of my grandmother were making an unwelcome visit. Would I eventually go deaf? Would I need a hearing aid? Would the sound of music begin to dull? Would I struggle to hear the lovely voices of Ansley, Maggie, and most of all, Julia? Yes, the waiting was difficult. Because my anxiety and fear stirred.
My appointment finally arrived.
I sat down on a small wooden chair in a cramped sound isolation booth. It’s a curious experience: sounds play at different levels and pitches, speech perception (what word did I just say?), the bone conduction test (not nearly as cool as it sounds), and probably more technical things. In short, it was a series of “Did you hear that?” tests and then pressing a red button.
The last test was the most stressful.
A pre-recorded voice of a woman read random and nonsensical sentences while audio of a restaurant became increasingly louder. I was to repeat what I heard her saying.
“The ham goes well with cheese.”
And then quieter, “The goat should not be picked up.”
And quieter still, “The dog wore a monocle.”
My own internal monologue picked up as she quieted.
“No, that can't be! A dog and monocle? Is it? Yeah, it is. Just go for it—that's what she said right?”
I started to sweat.
I worried each time her voice faded into the background noise. “Surely,” I thought to myself, “I am failing this test.” When the test was done, I needed a minute to compose myself. My heart was racing … perhaps I should visit the cardiologist.
When the Good News is Bad News
The ear doctor looked at me and said, “I have good news, but you might find it to be bad news ... Your hearing is just fine.” He paused, dramatically. I waited. He went on, “I want to acknowledge your experience, that you're struggling to hear in some environments, but it’s not because of any hearing loss. Your hearing is just fine. I realize this may be frustrating.” He paused again.
“As you get older,” he went on, “it’s not unusual to find conversations difficult to follow in loud environments and for your comprehension to decrease. This comes with aging. In some environments …” he paused again:
“You may want to ask if the music can be turned down.”
“Is my diagnosis really that I’m turning into an old man who needs to be crotchety in public?” I replied.
I’m not sure my humour landed. But I was relieved.
Good news: My hearing is fine.
Bad news: I need to find ways to turn down the noise.
Noise in Our Spiritual Lives
We live in a noisy, clamoring, busy world. Even so:
God speaks.
It’s among the first theological proclamations of Scripture. It’s a central truth undergirding our faith. God has spoken within and throughout human history and now in a definitive way. The author of Hebrews puts it like this:
In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom also he made the universe.
God has spoken to us “by His Son.”
But do you ever feel like the voice of Jesus—the voice we're supposed to recognize as his sheep—is drowned out by a thousand other sounds, noises, and voices?
Even in the quiet, in the still night, do you struggle to hear his voice? Do you only hear the murmuring of the apartment, the pings of another notification, or the music that helps you drift to sleep?
God still speaks. But even on the best of days God’s voice can feel like a quiet whisper, on other days like a mumble, and on the worst days a painful silence. We start to worry:
Is our spiritual hearing okay?
The Challenge of Waiting
We know God will speak again when Jesus returns and declares “Behold! I have made all things new.” But what about this drawn-out middle space? Jesus has come and he will return. His return is imminent but it feels more like … well, an eventually. It’s hard enough to wait, let alone to wait within the chatter, differing opinions, and voices that distract and disorient us from what we were waiting for in the first place.
Waiting for God is difficult. It stirs up our fears and anxieties. Did God really speak through His Son? Will he speak again? Have I ever actually heard his voice? Or am I just trying to convince myself that I have? But what if this is part of the good work of waiting? It surfaces what is deep within and brings it to the light. What if the good news is that there’s actually nothing wrong with our spiritual hearing? What if we've just been listening to the wrong voices and the background noise for too long?
Who Are We Listening To?
Perhaps we don’t hear the still, quiet voice of our Good Shepherd because we’ve been caught up in the background noise. We keep ourselves busy, we try to be at most social events, we work the extra hours, we order, buy, and consume; we stay caught up with all our shows, all the new music, we run errands and mop floors, we get our dishes done and try to pay our bills. There is so much to do, so little margin, so much busyness. The bad news: We can’t hear God because life is just too loud.
But perhaps we don't hear God because we’re too busy listening to ourselves.
We’re endlessly listening to our own desires and self-evaluations. What am I going to do today? I'm hungry, what will I eat? Should I call him? Maybe I should go on a diet, tomorrow. Maybe I should pray, later. I want to be better, look better, smile more. I want something, someone, anything—some moment that will create a new and better normal. I want this moment to be the past and the future to be now. Does God see me? Is God even in this stuff? If this sort of inner monologue is as familiar to you as it is to me, then we’re both caught up in listening to ourselves.
The bad news: Sometimes we can’t hear God because we are just too loud.
Here's the good news: our ears are not failing us. It's our inner monologue drowning out the whispers of God.
Tuning into God’s Frequency
When we can hear within our noisy lives and the clamour and chaos of life, we are invited into the waiting room of prayer. We step into the sound isolation booth and take our seat on the uncomfortable wooden chair. We try to listen. And we wonder if we’re truly hearing what we long to hear. We’re thrown into a series of “Did you hear that?” moments, and sometimes, the answers seem lost in the background noise. But sometimes we make out the good promise:
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Here’s the good news: our ears are not failing us. It’s our inner monologue drowning out the whispers of God. It’s the symphony of self-doubt, the percussion of busyness, and the cacophony of our own desires that make us think we're losing our hearing even though we are not.
In the cacophony of our daily lives, it's easy to feel like we're losing our spiritual hearing. We strain to hear God's voice, often doubting whether we're truly listening or if He's even speaking. But here's the truth we need to hold onto: our spiritual ears are not failing us. The problem isn't with our reception; it's with the overwhelming noise drowning out the divine broadcast.
Dr. Martin Lloyd-Jones offers us a profound diagnosis and remedy:
Have you realized that most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself?
Take those thoughts that come to you the moment you wake up in the morning. You have not originated them but they are talking to you, they bring back the problems of yesterday, etc. Somebody is talking. Who is talking to you? Your self is talking to you.
Now the psalmist’s treatment in Psalm 42 was this: instead of allowing this self to talk to him, he starts talking to himself. “Why art thou cast down, O my soul?” he asks. His soul had been depressing him, crushing him. So he stands up and says, “Self, listen for moment, I will speak to you.”
Lloyd-Jones diagnoses and reveals our tendency to get caught up in our own internal monologue rather than actively speaking God’s truth to ourselves.
So how do we tune in to God's frequency in this noisy world?
Turn the volume down: When I stepped into that sound isolation booth for my hearing test, the silence was startling. It's exactly what we need in our spiritual lives - intentionally created quiet spaces where God's voice can reach us. We need to ask for the background noise to be turned down, just like I did in that booth. In life, this means setting clear boundaries, simplifying our overcrowded schedules, or sometimes just disconnecting from the relentless stream of information and entertainment that surrounds us. For me and maybe for you too, this means carving out specific times for prayer and reflection, free from the distractions of phones, screens, and the constant hum of activity.
Speak God’s Voice to Yourself: The best way to listen to God is to hear how He has already spoken in His Word. Instead of letting our minds spiral with the endless chatter of our own thoughts and fears, we can read Scripture and actively speak God's promises to ourselves. This isn't about positive self-talk or empty affirmations. It's about grounding ourselves in the unchanging truths of God's words - truths that have sustained believers through every season of life.
Listen in the waiting: Part of turning down the noise and listening to God's Word means waiting with God. We're slowing down to attune ourselves to His presence with us, like adjusting our ears to hear a distant song. God dwells with us through the Spirit and speaks: sometimes with unspoken words, whispers, inclinations, pictures, and more. But learning to hear God requires something countercultural - getting comfortable with waiting in His presence, carefully discerning what comes from our own thoughts and what truly reflects “the mind of Christ.”
Jesus has spoken, and his words remain alive and active. While we wait for his return—for that moment when he will declare, "Behold! I have made all things new"—we have the privilege of tuning into his ongoing conversation with us. When God's voice seems like a faint whisper or the noise of life threatens to overwhelm us, take heart. Your spiritual hearing is fine. God has spoken through His Word, and He continues to speak. He's inviting us into a deeper conversation that cuts through all the noise and reaches to the very core of who we are.
What an amazing reminder! Thank you!