Growing up, I was a really shy student who never liked asking questions. I was self-conscious about my voice, and I didn’t want everybody to look at me. Now that I’m a teacher, I’m not quite as self-conscious about my voice, so I’ll ask questions when I’m confused. I figure I’m probably not the only one with the question, and even if I am, that’s okay, at least I’m participating. Teachers really like that.

So, when I was confused in Sunday school a few weeks ago, I assertively raised my hand and said, “This may be a dumb question, but what exactly is sanctification?”

One of my friends looked at me and said, “That’s a dumb question.” Or, at least that’s what I thought he said. So, being the sweet girl I am, I promptly quipped, “Shut up!” (We really are a loving group, I promise!)

The problem was, he wasn’t trying to bash me. What he actually said was, “There’s no such thing as a dumb question.” Dang! Poor guy was trying to make me feel better, and I ended up biting his head off simply because I misheard him.

Hearing has been a problem for me my whole life. When I was in elementary school, we were all sent to the school nurse, who administered a hearing test. I remember it vividly. The nurse explained we would put on a set of headphones and listen for a high or low tone. Depending on which ear we heard it in, we would raise the corresponding hand. If you’re a child of the ’80s, you probably know exactly what I’m talking about.

When it was my turn, I put on those huge headphones that were so big and heavy, they made my little eight-year-old neck wobble, and I waited for the beep. I waited and I waited and I waited. After about a minute, the nurse took off the headphones and gently began to repeat the directions to me. When she finished, I looked at her and replied, “Yes, ma’am, I understand what I’m supposed to do, but I haven’t heard a beep yet.” Houston, we have a problem. As it turned out, I did have some hearing loss and had to make a few trips to the local speech and hearing clinic.

As you can imagine, hearing loss is a bit problematic for an English teacher who likes discussions. I often have to ask kids to repeat themselves, especially now that I teach in a room without a ceiling to trap the sound (Yes, you read that correctly, and yes, it is as odd as it sounds). I find myself saying, “You’re not wrong, I just can’t hear you,” at least once a day.

I especially have trouble hearing low pitches, which makes it more difficult for me to hear and understand guys than girls. Pretty ironic, since I seem to hear all the guys in my house way better than they hear me.

But the voice I have the most trouble hearing is God’s.

It’s not that I don’t know what to do to hear His voice. I know I should pray about things. I know I should read the Bible. I know I should find time to be quiet. It’s just that sometimes I have a hard time discerning what God’s telling me. Sometimes I can’t figure out if I’m hearing God’s true voice, or if I’m hearing what I want Him to say. I find myself thinking, “Is this really what God wants me to do, or is this me pretending my desires are His instructions?”

I truly believe this whole problem could be solved if God would just hook me up with the burning bush I keep asking for.

In the meantime, I have found one practice that helps me hear God’s voice. Research has shown that immersion is one of the best ways to learn and understand a language, so over the past few years, that has been my strategy for learning God’s language. By reading devotions, studying the Bible, listening to sermons, singing songs, and talking with trusted friends, I have tried to give myself more opportunities to hear His voice and feel His nudges.

One of the best examples of this strategy working happened last summer. In July, I wrote a blog post for Columbia Moms Blog about my doubts and fears about expanding our family. I was leaving the AP Summer Institute in Charlotte the morning it posted, and as I was walking to my car to head back to Columbia, I got a text from a close friend who had read the post. As a new mom of three herself, she encouraged me that I could handle it and suggested I listen to Zach Williams’ song Fear Is a Liar. I read the text as I was getting in the car, and when I cranked it up, that exact song was just coming on the radio. I was so stunned, I couldn’t even back out of my parking space. It was a moment when I knew God was talking to me, telling me not to be afraid, assuring me that He was with me. Most of the time, I think God probably sounds a lot like James Earl Jones, but that morning, He sounded a little bit sweet Southern girl, a little bit Christian rocker.

When I was little, one of my favorite shows was The Dukes of Hazzard, which is where I learned the phrase, “Got your ears on?” It’s CB radio speak to make sure the person you want to talk to is listening. These days, I say it to the boys when I really want them to pay close attention. It’s funny because they’ll say, “Yes, ma’am,” and then hesitantly touch their ears just to be sure they’re still there.

None of us will probably ever have a burning bush, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hear God’s voice. God can use words, music, and people to transmit His messages to us. We just have to tune in to the right frequency and have our ears on, ready to listen.

Is there something you do to hear God’s still, small voice? Do you have a practice that helps you discern His message? I’d love to hear it!