The God Who Hears Us: Sunday Devotion #25

John 11: 40-41 Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”

My husband tells me frequently, “Regina, you are not listening to me!” Of course, I respond that I am hearing every word. But then, quite embarassingly, I find myself having to ask him to repeat what he said.

One of the hardest aspects of living for me is listening to others. I have to make a concerted effort to not try to think about what I want to respond while the other person is still talking. I’ve had to learn to really hear people, and the way to do that was to remind myself that to fail to listen to another person is a form of disrespect and a conceit that what I want to say is more important.

It is one of the reasons that I am thankful to be heard by God. I know that He hears me, because too many times, I have found myself at peace after praying or just talking out loud to God. I even sometimes say things like, “I know you are saying, ‘What am I going to do with you, Regina?'” When no one else is listening to my cries for help, there is a satisfaction in knowing that I am heard by the Creator of the world.

I once found myself lost on city streets, because I was afraid of getting on the interstate in Atlanta. As I sat terrified, I admitted to God that I was afraid and that I needed help. I saw no one around, and it was in an area where a single woman had no business driving alone. As I sat parked by the side of the road, I felt a presence urging me to drive down a street, and I listened.

I came to a church where people were just leaving, and I felt drawn to this one lady. I shakily got out of the car and walked up to her and told her my plight. She called her husband over and told him that she was going to drive me past the interstate, and she did. He followed us. Once on a familiar street, I found my way home.

I am grateful that I can say like Jesus, “Father, I thank you that you heard me. I know you always hear me.” It’s a good thing God doesn’t act like me, only half-listening. I am getting better, I think, but you might want to ask my husband.

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