Psalm 29 is an enthronement hymn. My reflection will weave together solid historical and literary analysis with personal spiritual insights, practical applications, and broader reflections on awe, wonder, and discerning God's voice. I want to capture the dramatic power of the psalm wile grounding it in both ancient Near Eastern context and contemporary life.
Here are the key insights of the psalm.
· Psalm 29 is both a polemic against rival deities and a celebration of Yahweh’s supremacy.
· The psalm uses vivid natural imagery to convey divine power and the subjugation of chaos.
· It reflects early Israelite religious views, including henotheism and the concept of a divine council.
· The conclusion emphasizes peace and wellbeing, suggesting that divine power ultimately brings harmony, not fear.
To summarize historical and literary analysis: Psalm 29 is widely regarded by scholars as one of the oldest compositions in the Hebrew Bible, with its present form often dated to no later than the 10th century BC (around the time of David or the early monarchy), aligning with your suggestion of the 900s BC. Its archaic poetic style, repetitive structure (especially the sevenfold "voice of the LORD"), and geographical references to northern regions like Lebanon, Sirion (the Phoenician name for Mount Hermon), and Kadesh (likely the Syrian desert area) point to strong Canaanite influences.
The psalm is frequently described as an enthronement hymn or a theophany psalm, celebrating Yahweh's sovereign kingship. It vividly portrays God appearing in storm phenomena—thunder as the divine voice, lightning as flames of fire, and the shaking of creation—echoing ancient theophanies like Sinai (Exodus 19-20). Many scholars see close parallels with Ugaritic hymns to Baal (also called Hadad), the Canaanite storm god, whose "voice" thunders, shatters cedars, and brings fertility through rain. The psalm's imagery (e.g., the voice over mighty waters, breaking cedars of Lebanon, making mountains skip) appears to adapt or polemicize against these motifs: Yahweh, not Baal, commands the storm, subdues chaos (symbolized by waters and primeval forces), and is enthroned eternally over the flood (v. 10, evoking Noah's deluge or cosmic waters).
The opening call to heavenly beings (bene 'elim, "sons of gods" or divine council members) to ascribe glory and strength to Yahweh reflects an early henotheistic worldview—acknowledging other divine entities but asserting Yahweh's supremacy. This may represent Israel's adaptation of Canaanite poetic forms to proclaim monotheistic faith, transforming potential polytheistic elements into a declaration of Yahweh's unrivaled authority. Parallels appear in Psalms 96 and 1 Chronicles 16, showing how such language circulated in worship.
The psalm's structure builds dramatically: invitation to worship (vv. 1-2), the storm's progression (vv. 3-9), God's enthronement over chaos (v. 10), and a closing blessing of strength and peace (shalom) for God's people (v. 11). It shifts from awe-inspiring terror to serene assurance—Yahweh rules calmly amid turmoil, granting inner peace amid life's storms.
Summary of Reflections on Awe, Wonder, and Application
Awe as a pathway to God resonates strongly with the psalm's intent. The thunderstorm evokes both terror and joy, mirroring the "fear of the LORD" that is the beginning of wisdom (Proverbs 9:10). Drawing from thinkers like Helen De Cruz (in her 2020 Aeon essay "The necessity of awe"), awe involves perceiving vastness and accommodating it mentally, shifting focus outward and fostering openness to innovative ideas, wisdom, and the divine. This emotion counters complacency, reorients us toward transcendence, and can inspire paradigm shifts—whether in science, personal growth, or faith.
Connections to Elijah's "gentle breeze" (1 Kings 19), Revelation 3:20's intimate knocking, and everyday sacredness is poignant. The psalm's loud, dramatic voice contrasts with subtler encounters, reminding us that God speaks in varied ways—storm or whisper—yet always invites response. The Wesleyan Quadrilateral (Scripture, tradition, reason, experience) and Dallas Willard's criteria for discerning God's voice (quality, spirit, content) offers practical wisdom for modern life: listening requires practice, community, silence, and alignment with God's character revealed in Christ.
The closing blessing—"May the LORD give strength to his people! May the LORD bless his people with peace!"—beautifully resolves the chaos into shalom, a holistic well-being rooted in trust. As George MacLeod suggest, even in the "grey" or storm, God's presence transforms the ordinary into sacrament.
Such reflection invites readers to rediscover awe in creation's wonders (storms, vast vistas, Hubble images) while seeking God's voice in daily intimacy. In challenging times, all eras are difficult—yet the eternal King offers strength and peace. I trust that this meditation will enrich you, it encourage deeper wonder at the God who thunders yet speaks gently, subdues chaos yet grants tranquility. May it inspire many to listen anew.
Here is my full study.
I begin with some historical and literary analysis. The date is from the period of the 900’s BC. “Yahweh” occurs 18 times and “voice” occurs 7 times. It declares the unrivaled authority and power of the Lord. Its use of an archaic poetic style and placenames in Lebanon and Syria enhance the intended effect, which is to make clear that the Canaanite god Baal is no rival. It portrays the Lord as a storm, an earthquake, themes associated with theophany like that on Mount Sinai and the giving of the Law. However, many consider the psalm a prayer for rain, such as would occur at the beginning of the planting season. It seems close to Ugaritic hymns to Baal or Hadad, the storm-god. This psalm echoes ancient combat myths, where a hero-god defeats chaos and is proclaimed leader by other gods.”
This psalm stands as one of the earliest hymns dedicated to the God who commands the storm. It describes Yahweh’s self-revelation through the power of the voice, conjuring vivid images of divine strength and majesty. The Lord is depicted as subduing Israel’s enemies and granting peace to the chosen people. The psalm’s foundation lies in the profound religious experience of encountering God’s power in the thunderstorm—a moment that brings both awe and joy, as well as a sense of terror. Like Psalm 24, it explores themes of the Lord’s victory over chaos and the primordial waters, culminating in the image of God enthroned as king within the temple.
I offer a practical application. Given the loudness of the voice of the Lord here, one would think it would be easy to hear. Our experience tells us this is not the case. We may think that we live in challenging times. We do. Yet, all human times are difficult. How shall we judge what to do in such times? As people always do, the struggle between good and evil has always been present for human beings. Our part is to discern between them.[1] Although this psalm focuses on the appearance of the Lord in the dramatic storm, one of the great lessons is that we discover the sacred in the ordinary, in our daily lives, in our neighbors, friends, family, and in the backyard. Here is the truly miraculous.[2]
As a matter of personal reflection, I like the way Psalm 29 ends: May the Lord give strength to the people of God and bless the people with peace. I suspect many of us have prayed something like that. “By the way, could you grant me some strength and peace?” We lack so much of it here. In fact, most of the psalm is about hearing the voice of the Lord in the storm. I am glad for the psalmist. I think of other times where Scripture hears the voice of the Lord in an unusual way. Elijah was depressed, running away from an angry queen of Israel. As he stood near the place where Moses received the Ten Commandments and received them during a storm and earthquake, Elijah experienced the storm as well. He did not hear God, however, until a gentle breeze came his way. In another place, in Revelation 3:20, the risen Lord says that he will knock and speak. If anyone hears his voice, and opens the door, he will enter. When he does, he will have supper, an intimate meal.
In my life, I have heard the voice of the Lord far more like an intimate conversation than in the storms nature has brought my way. I am not making a judgment. I may be missing something. I admit that. In either case, however, I suspect we are looking for the same thing. We want some strength and peace for the journey through a human life.
Thus, to continue with literary and historical considerations, the psalm opens with some key themes.
- Heavenly Assembly: The psalm begins with a call to the divine council, inviting all heavenly beings to recognize and worship Yahweh’s glory and strength.
- Henotheism: Early Israelite religion acknowledged other divine beings but asserted Yahweh’s supremacy.
- Liturgical Setting: Worship in “holy splendor” underscores the majesty and sacredness of the Lord’s presence.
- Political and Cosmic Sovereignty: The Lord’s rule is depicted as both cosmic and political, replacing older myths with the concept of God’s eternal kingship.
In Psalm 29:1-2, the writer invites 1heavenly beings ( אֵלִ֑ים בְּנֵ֣י bene 'elim and in 89:7, sons of gods), those divine beings who are members of the heavenly court over which the Lord presides, functioning as the servants and worshippers of the Lord, all of whom worship the Lord and honor the strength of the Lord, thereby reflecting the henotheistic view (adherence to one god out of many) of early Israel, to acknowledge or ascribe (yahav) to the Lord glory (kavod, divine radiance and visual manifestation) and strength. Some scholars suggest that the writer has overcome his polytheistic religion from which he came. This act of ascription is a recognition of the Lord’s unique power and majesty. The members of the heavenly court functioned as the retinue of the Lord ("servants and worshippers" according to C. A. Briggs), reflecting the henotheistic perspective of early Israelite religion, which took the existence of deities other than Yahweh for granted, even while it regarded Yahweh as supreme for Israel. 2 Ascribe to the Lord the glory of his name.The heavenly beings are to worship the Lord in holy splendor (behadrat kodesh), or the splendor of holiness, which may refer to the courts of heaven. This phrase emphasizes the sacredness and majesty of the worship setting, highlighting the Lord’s exalted status among the divine assembly. Psalm 96:7-8 and 1 Chronicles 16:28-29 have interesting parallels, with modifications, to these two verses.
Under the monarchy, Israel seems to have had ideas of the lordship of God in relation to the political order. This was particularly the case with Jerusalem. At the latest period, with the transition to the founding of its own state, Israel must have transferred to the God of Israel the link it inherited from Canaanite religion between the political and judicial order on the one side, and the cosmic order on the other, that rested on belief in the kingship of the leading gods. In the process, it replaced the cosmological myth by a depiction of the rule of God from eternity over the cosmos.[3]
Verses 3–9 highlight the Lord’s power through the phenomenon known as theophany—God’s appearance to humans. In the Old Testament, these encounters often occur in natural forms: the gentle breeze (Genesis 3:8), a smoking pot (Genesis 15:17), a burning bush (Exodus 3:2), or a storm cloud filled with lightning (Exodus 13:21). Most frequently, Yahweh is revealed in the storm (Exodus 20:18; Deuteronomy 4:12; I Kings 18:38).” It focuses on 3The voice of the Lord (pars pro toto), which is over the waters, referring to the waters above the dome that separated the flat earth from the waters above the sky, the God (אֵֽל־ ) of glory thunders, the Lord, over mighty waters. The Lord battles the primeval forces of chaos. This phrase refers to the waters above the dome that, in ancient cosmology, separated the flat earth from the waters above the sky. The “God of glory thunders” over these mighty waters, symbolizing Yahweh’s dominion over the primordial forces of chaos. This imagery evokes the ancient belief that storms and thunder were manifestations of divine power. 4The voice of the Lord is powerful and full of majesty. This emphasizes the overwhelming strength and grandeur of God’s presence, which is not just heard but felt in the natural world. The repetition of “voice” throughout the psalm serves as a literary device to reinforce the theme of divine authority. 5It breaks the cedars (trees may refer to enemies of God) of Lebanon, known for their height and strength. In biblical symbolism, trees often represent enemies of God or obstacles to divine will. The destruction of these mighty cedars signifies Yahweh’s ability to overcome even the most formidable power. 6The Lord makes Lebanon/Sirion skip like a calf and like a young wild ox. Sirion is the Phoenician name for Mount Hermon, a cluster of mountains on the border between Lebanon and Syria. This vivid imagery portrays the mountains themselves as leaping in response to God’s voice, further illustrating the irresistible force of divine power. 7The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire, lightning or arrows of fire, connecting the Lord’s presence to the storm, a common motif in ancient Near Eastern religion, where the storm-god’s power is displayed through thunder and lightning. The fire imagery intensifies the sense of awe and danger associated with God’s manifestation. 8Shakes the wilderness of Kadesh, causes the oaks to whirl, and strips the forest bare (trees may refer to enemies of God). The Kadesh mentioned here is not the well-known oasis in Sinai, but the desert east of the Syrian city of Kadesh on the Orontes River—a site of ancient battles. The shaking of the wilderness signifies God’s reach and influence over distant and wild places, reinforcing the universality of divine power. 9The writer invites people to say Glory in the temple. Thus, the geographical setting for this psalm is north of Israel. In addition to the mention of Lebanon, Sirion is the Phoenician name for Mount Hermon (a cluster of mountains on the border between Lebanon and Syria), and the Kadesh referred to is not the well-known oasis in Sinai (Numbers 20:1), but the desert east of the Syrian city of Kadesh on the Orontes River (site of the famous battle of 1274 B.C. between the Egyptians and the Hittites). Again, trees may symbolize enemies or obstacles, and their destruction by the divine voice demonstrates Yahweh’s supremacy. The stripping of the forest is a dramatic image of total transformation and renewal brought about by God’s intervention.
As a practical application of this sentiment, Shakespeare could also express such awe.
Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanes, spout
Till you have drench’d our steeples, drown’d the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o’ the world!
Crack nature’s moulds, all germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man![4]
The absolute minimum conditions for worship are a sense of mystery, and an admission of pain (Robert Shaw). Worship acknowledges human limits and frailty. We experience a transcendent mystery, an unbelievable power that is capable of transforming the confusing, painful, terrifying stuff of our lives and our world into hope, freedom, and peace.
When a long-accepted explanation of how the world works breaks down or is shown to be flawed, what emotion most helps scientists delve further and leap into the unknown? That emotion, according to Helen De Cruz, professor of philosophy and humanities at Saint Louis University in Missouri, is awe. “Awe increases our tolerance for uncertainty and opens our receptivity to new and unusual ideas, which are crucial for paradigm change.” Noting that awe is also a spiritual and moral emotion, De Cruz cites the work of others who maintain that “all clear cases of awe” have two components: an experience of vastness and a need for a mental accommodation to that vastness. “Awe is a self-transcendent emotion because it focuses our attention away from ourselves and toward our environment.” She goes on to describe awe, along with curiosity and wonder, as emotions related to the search for knowledge and says that a person lacking such emotions “won’t have the drive to become a good scientist, who can change her mind on the basis of evidence.” Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel insisted that awe is critical for not taking the world for granted and thus losing the ability to experience it with depth and reverence. That means awe is a pathway not only to knowledge, but also to wisdom and to God.[5]
Imagine yourself at a scenic vista somewhere on Earth, such as the rim of the Grand Canyon or the shore of an ocean stretching out past the horizon line. As your brain processes the view and its sheer vastness, feelings of awe kick in. Looking at a photo is not the same, but we might get a dose of that when we look at a particularly sparkly Hubble [Space Telescope] picture of a star cluster. The experience of awe, whether we’re standing at the summit of a mountain or sitting in front of a computer screen, can lead to “a diminished sense of self,” a phrase psychologists use to describe feelings of smallness or insignificance in the face of something larger than oneself. Alarming as that may sound, research has shown that the sensation can be a good thing: A shot of awe can boost feelings of connectedness with other people.
“Some people do have the sense when they’re looking across millions of light-years, that our ups and downs are ultimately meaningless on that scale,” says David Yaden, a research scientist in psychopharmacology at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, and who has studied self-transcendent experiences, including in astronauts. “But I think [space images] can also draw our attention to the preciousness of local meaning — our loved ones, people close to us, this Earth. It’s not a leap that I think always occurs, but I think the benefits flow to people who do make that leap."[6]
The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery — even if mixed with fear — that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. In this sense, and only this sense, I am a deeply religious man.[7]
Contemplation is life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that it is alive. It is spiritual wonder. It is spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life, of being. It is gratitude for life, for awareness, and for being. It is a vivid realization of the fact that life and being in us proceed from an invisible, transcendent and infinitely abundant Source. Contemplation is, above all, awareness of the reality of that Source.[8]
We live in an age where we do not allow very many experiences to awe us, and we take for granted wonders at which previous generations might have marveled. People have become more individualistic, more self-focused, more materialistic, and less connected to others. However, we cannot manufacture the experience of awe, unless we want to go the path of inauthenticity. Frederick Buechner illustrates awe by telling of seeing a forest of giant redwoods for the first time. “There were some small children nearby, giggling and chattering and pushing each other around. Nobody had to tell them to quiet down as we entered. They quieted down all by themselves. Everybody did. You could not hear a sound of any kind. It was like coming into a vast, empty room.” He was describing a paradigm shift: “Two or three hundred feet high the redwoods stood. They made you realize that all your life you had been mistaken. Oaks and ashes, maples and chestnuts and elms you had seen for as long as you could remember, but never until this moment had you so much as dreamed what a tree really was.” The kids did not have the life experience to identify what they were feeling as awe, but that emotion was there, and it struck them quiet. It would not be surprising if, in that moment, one of those kids had an awakening to think about God, about a career in ecology or nature, or simply fell in love with the outdoors, a love that would have a bearing on other choices he or she made in the future. Awe can set a direction for life and can even move a person toward God.[9]
God uses various gateways to come into our lives, and awe is one such gate. Saint Anselm (1033-1109) put it this way: God is greater than any conception of God we might have. Awe enables us to sense possibilities we had not imagined before — which is especially useful in scientific research — but can also enable us to get some sense of God. We may experience awe when we notice truly the beauty around us, the surge and thunder of the ocean, the quiet of a late summer evening, by poetry and music, or the smell of wood smoke in the crisp autumn air. Even the intricacy and effectiveness of the human body might awe us, as was the author of Psalm 139, who reflected upon the notion that the Lord formed him in his inward parts, knit him together in the womb of his mother, so he praises the Lord, for the Lord made him in a way that brings the experience of awe (vv. 13-14).
A sense of awe is where the impulse of religion often starts. Or, as De Cruz says, where we need to make “a mental accommodation to vastness.” The main thrust of De Cruz’s article was that “awe is required not only for the day-to-day working of science but is also crucial to help reorient scientists’ thinking in times of paradigm change.” But she also acknowledged that the emotional drive of awe is what matters in other fields as well, and that it might be “our only path to knowledge and wisdom.” It can also be a path to God.
Psalm 29:10-11, returning to historical and literary analysis, is an end that may surprise
us a bit. 10The Lord sits (showing relaxation and calm) enthroned over the flood. The psalm twice refers to the waters. In ancient Hebrew cosmology, the earth was envisioned as flat, shielded from the waters above by the sky (Genesis 1:7). It was believed to rest on pillars (I Samuel 2:8), which held it above the deep, the watery abyss described in Genesis 7:11. The vast seas and oceans were seen as mysterious and unsettling realms, places where ancient Israel felt out of place, especially since neighboring peoples like the Philistines and Canaanites controlled access to the Mediterranean.
The image of the Lord “enthroned over the flood” conveys absolute sovereignty and calm amid chaos. Unlike mythic combat stories where gods struggle against the forces of chaos, Psalm 29 presents Yahweh as separate from and superior to these waters, ruling with composure and authority. This depiction reassures Israel that God’s power is unchallenged and that natural upheavals—storms, earthquakes, floods—are not threats but harmonious elements in the divine order.
Within this psalm, the waters above the heavens may symbolize the domain over which the Lord reigns. Regardless of interpretation, the Lord is depicted as separate from these chaotic waters—calm and composed amid turmoil. This perspective is intended to reassure the people of the Lord. Here, God’s power is absolute, creating and ruling without any struggle against chaos.[10] As a result, the people of the Lord can view storms, earthquakes, and other natural upheavals not as threats, but as harmonious elements in the grand design of creation and as varied expressions of divine love.[11] Through this understanding, they learn not to fear the storm, but to navigate life’s challenges with confidence and faith. [12]
For a personal reflection, George MacLeod, founder of Scotland's Iona Community, was thinking of the powerful storms that sweep across that tiny Hebridean island when he wrote the following prayer, known as "The Glory in the Grey."
Almighty God, Sustainer:
Sun behind all suns,
Soul behind all souls,
Show to us in everything we touch
and in everyone we meet
the continued assurance of Thy presence round us:
lest ever we should think Thee absent.
In all created things Thou art there.
In every friend we have
the sunshine of Thy presence is shown forth.
In every enemy that seems to cross our path,
Thou art there within the cloud
to challenge us to love.
Show to us the glory in the grey.
Awake for us Thy presence in the very storm
till all our joys are seen as Thee
and all our trivial tasks emerge as priestly sacraments
in the universal temple of Thy love.[13]
The Psalm ends with a blessing that 11the Lord give strength, for the Lord has all the powers ascribed in this psalm, to the people of the Lord and bless the people of the Lord with peace. Although this prayer centers on the supreme power of the Lord, it concludes by asking God to grant wellbeing to Israel. A psalm filled with the sounds of shaking, rattling, and upheaval ends in peace. Yet, this peace is not simply the calm that follows a storm. The transition from cosmic upheaval to peace is intentional. The psalm suggests that the same power that shakes the earth is also available to sustain and bless the faithful. The concept of shalom here is deep and holistic, referring to wellbeing, wholeness, and harmony that surpasses ordinary understanding. The concept of shalom here refers to a peace that surpasses all understanding—an inner tranquility that comes from experiencing unity with the world, even if only briefly.[14] The psalm suggests that we can ask the Lord for strength to face our challenges and for peace amid the chaos of life.
The psalm ends by encouraging believers to ask the Lord for strength to face life’s challenges and for peace amid chaos. It teaches that divine power is not only awe-inspiring but also nurturing and protective. Its themes include:
- Cosmic Sovereignty: Yahweh is depicted as eternally enthroned above all forces of chaos, ruling with calm and authority.
- Divine Blessing: The Lord’s power is not distant or destructive but is given to the people as strength and peace.
- Spiritual Assurance: Believers are invited to trust in God’s sovereignty and to seek both resilience and tranquility in their relationship with the divine.
The psalm raises a matter of practical reflection: How does God speak? The United Methodist Church continues to teach what it calls the Wesleyan Quadrilateral. If we want to hear the voice of God, the primary means is through the Bible. God has breathed life into this word. We often do not know the right questions to ask, so we need to get into the Word and let it shape us. The Bible is, obviously, not simply a set of propositions to memorize. We need some willingness to get into it and learn from it. The second part of the quadrilateral is tradition, which primarily means reflecting on the creeds and basic doctrines of Christian teaching. You do not need to become a theologian to become aware of what two thousand years to Christian teaching have led us believe. Yes, there are differences between denominations, but we agree on so much. Learn what that agreement is. The third part of the quadrilateral is reason, which means that we have a responsibility to our neighbors to explain in a reasonable way what we believe. Finally, and I think most importantly, we need to testify or witness to our own experience of how God has spoken to us. Each of us has different experiences. Yet, each of us can share the circumstances in which God has directed, comforted, strengthened, and challenged us. We need to make sure that each of these points of the quadrilateral need to work together in our lives. One does not cancel out the other.
How do we know it is God speaking? I am sure we have heard of criminals who have said they did crazy things because God told them. Most of us have many voices in our heads, such as a parent, a friend, a teacher, and on and on. Dallas Willard notes three ways by which we can know God's voice from others. 1) Quality. God's voice carries substance and weight. It makes an impact -- bringing peace, inclining us toward ascent and inspiring compliance. 2) Spirit. It is rarely loud, flashy, or dramatic. It does not argue, but rather, calmly assures us of itself. At this point, think of Elijah, who did not hear the voice of the Lord in the storm, but did hear the voice of God in the gentle breeze. 3) Content. Words from God will always conform to God's nature, God's Scripture, and his heart as revealed in Christ. God's voice will never tell you that you are worthless, encourage you to lie or mislead you about God's character. These factors are akin to the spirits of consolation and desolation in Ignatian spirituality. When a voice consoles us by bringing peace, calm, assurance, and worship, the voice is more likely from God because it draws us toward God. When a voice leaves us desolate by bringing us confusion, chaos, and anxiety, the voice is rarely from God because it pulls us away from God.
How do I listen for God's voice? Silence, solitude, journaling, mentors, and trial-and-error all create the space to listen for God. Nevertheless, it takes practice. You do not sit down to the piano and bang out Beethoven -- you first play scales and Chopsticks. You do not wake up and decide to run a marathon -- you walk-jog your first two-miler and build from there. Caveat: As someone has said, "Practice does not make perfect; it just makes things permanent." Still, without practice, things can be neither perfect nor permanent. You do not want to practice mistakes, or they become permanent mistakes, but making a practice of listening to the voice of God can lead, if not to perfection, to something that approaches it. We need to understand listening well for the voice of God in a comparable way. Living in wisdom, knowing the Scriptures, trusting community, making mistakes -- these are all part of learning to listen for God's voice over time.
As Jesus left his disciples behind, he told them he had much more to say to them. However, he left that speaking to the work of the Spirit (John 16). God still wants us to hear from him today -- through the Scriptures and through his internal leading voice.
Realistically, how can we discern the voice of the Lord? As powerful as the word of the Lord is, it can be hard for us, at times, to hear its echo in our daily lives. We get used to hearing what we want to hear. We remain deaf to what it would be well for us to hear. It can be hard to break the habit. However, if we keep our hearts, minds, and ears open, if we listen with patience and hope, if we remember at all deeply and honestly, then we come to recognize that the Lord is speaking to us. We may have little understanding of it. Yet, the word of the Lord to each of us is both recoverable and precious.[15]Hearing the voice of the Lord requires discerning, an ancient notion arising out of the contemplative life. Regardless of what we sense, we need to have a calm moment to reflect. Is it consistent with the Bible? Does it serve the purposes of the Lord, spread the good news, or build up the church? Does it grow me in humility? Is it consistent with what others in the community are discerning? Is it consistent with the life described in the Ten Commandments, the Beatitudes, and the fruit of the Spirit? Is it consistent with building up faith, hope, and love? Does it increase my love for the Lord and my love for others?
[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers (Del Rey, 2012), 440-41.
[2] Abraham Maslow, Religions, Values, and Peak Experiences (Important Books, 2014)
[3]
[4] King Lear, speaking to the Fool as they are wandering across the moor amidst the storm, in William Shakespeare, King Lear, Act III, Scene 2.
[5] De Cruz, Helen. “The necessity of awe.” Aeon, July 10, 2020, https://aeon.co. Retrieved November 24, 2020.
[6] Marina Koren, “Galaxy Brain Is Real: Looking at the long views from the Hubble space telescope might be good for you,” The Atlantic, December 1, 2020.
[7] Albert Einstein, The World As I See It (Samaira Publishers, 2018).
[8] Thomas Merton, Essential Writings (Orbis, 2000), 58.
[9] Buechner, Frederick. “Awe,” www.frederickbuechner.com. Retrieved November 24, 2020.
[10]
[11] John Muir, "The fountains and streams of the Yosemite National Park," Atlantic Monthly, vol. LXXXVII, no. 519 (January, 1901), 565.
[12] I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship. --Louisa May Alcott, Little Women (Little, Brown & Co., 1922), 369.
[13] George MacLeod, cited in The Complete Book of Christian Prayer (Continuum, 1996), 281.
[14] Scott Hoezee, "All Cry Glory!" Calvin Christian Reformed Church Website, August 22, 2004, http://calvincrc.calvin.edu.
[15] Buechner, Frederick. Now and Then. Harper Collins, 2010, 3.
like your comment on how you have heard tyhe voice of God. I would think this would be a good area for expansion. As far as the voice of Glod in thunder etc. this is just a typical mid east view of God and how he speaks. Baal spoke this way too.I see you address some of this in the next paragraph. BTW liked that one. I see God revealing himself to man as man is able to comprehend hence Yahweh emerges out of the pagan religions . As I read on I see you did develop how God speaks. This is very good I like it a lot. Like the Methodist quadlateral. I thing this is a good take on a powerful Psalm. -Lyn Eastman
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