Learning to Listen for God

When the scriptures say that “a revelation of the Lord was uncommon and vision infrequent,” the line feels strangely familiar. Many live in a world thick with information yet thin on wisdom, awash in opinions yet unsure how to recognize the voice that truly matters. The lamp of God, however, “was not yet extinguished.” The flame still burns; quietly, persistently; waiting for hearts willing to watch and listen.

The Night Call: Learning to Listen

Samuel hears a call he can’t yet name. He mistakes God’s voice for Eli’s, running in circles through the dark. It takes time; and guidance; for him to learn the language of the Lord. Only after Eli counsels him does Samuel finally respond, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

This is a tender picture of discernment. We don’t enter a life with God as experts; we grow into recognition. Often, we need an Eli; someone seasoned in faith; to help us attune to the call that is already sounding. Notice, too, that Samuel’s openness is not dramatic; it is repeatable. He goes back to his place. He lies down. He listens again. The night becomes his classroom.

In an age of constant notifications, discernment often begins with turning some of them off. If our minds keep sprinting toward every buzz and banner, we will confuse what is urgent with what is ultimate. Samuel models a different reflex: not “Here’s my plan,” but “Here I am.” Availability precedes strategy. Surrender precedes clarity.

Make that simple sentence your breath-prayer through the day: Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening. Let it interrupt your compulsion to react. Let it loosen the grip of anxiety. Listening, in the biblical sense, is not a passive mood; it is a consenting heart.

Ears Open to Obedience

Psalm 40 opens a door that modern spirituality sometimes leaves closed: “Sacrifice or offering you asked not; but ears open to obedience you gave me.” God is not impressed by performance so much as he delights in a heart that can hear and heed. We may be tempted to pile up activities for God; projects, posts, even pious practices; while quietly resisting the one thing he actually asks: a will we are willing to place in his hands.

Obedience is not servility; it is love that has learned to trust. It is the art of letting God write the story, even when his plot requires a waiting we did not choose or a courage we did not know we possessed. In workplaces shaped by metrics and platforms hungry for visibility, obedience can look like choosing integrity over expedience, truth over spin, patience over panic. It can be as quiet as staying faithful to a hidden responsibility or as costly as speaking a needed word in a room where silence would be safer.

The Hand That Heals, The Heart That Prays

In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus moves from synagogue to home, from public teaching to intimate encounter. He takes Simon’s fevered mother-in-law by the hand, raises her up, and the fever leaves. The first fruit of healing is service: “she waited on them.” Grace never ends with us; it moves through us. To be touched by Christ is to find our hands ready for the needs of others, not out of compulsion but from gratitude.

As evening falls, the town crowds the doorway with sickness, fear, and oppression; and Jesus heals. Yet before dawn, he goes to a deserted place to pray. The rhythm matters: compassion pours out from communion; authority flows from abiding. When everyone is looking for him, Jesus resists becoming a celebrity problem-solver. He returns to the purpose the Father gave him: “Let us go on to the nearby villages… For this purpose have I come.” Mission, not momentum, governs his steps.

This is a needed word for the modern soul. We can be swamped by other people’s urgencies until our days are defined by the latest email or crisis. Jesus shows another way: seek the Father’s face, then let prayer set the itinerary. The desert is not escapism; it is where our desires are re-ordered so our yes can be clear.

Purpose Before Popularity

Mark adds a curious detail: Jesus “did not permit [the demons] to speak because they knew him.” He will not outsource his identity to voices; however accurate; that do not love. He refuses to let evil narrate the good. We, too, live amid loud voices eager to label us, monetize us, or drag us into cycles of outrage. Not every platform deserves our testimony. Not every demand is our call.

Purpose before popularity means:

• Allowing hidden prayer to set public boundaries.
• Letting truth, not trend, determine our message.
• Accepting that obedience may look like saying “no,” even to good things, in order to say a deeper “yes.”

When the disciples announce, “Everyone is looking for you,” Jesus does not chase the crowd. He goes where the Father sends him next. Freedom looks like that.

From Scarcity to Prophet: What God Does With Our Yes

Scripture says of Samuel, “The Lord was with him, not permitting any of his words to be without effect.” This is not a promise of instant influence but of divine fidelity. When a listening heart becomes a speaking mouth, God gives weight to our words. He does not waste what he inspires.

The world doesn’t need more noise; it needs truer words; fewer, deeper, steadier. Words shaped by prayer, tested by obedience, and offered in love carry a different density. They may not always be popular, but they are fruitful because they are aligned with the One who speaks reality into being.

Living This in Ordinary Time

Ordinary Time is where holiness learns to keep house in our actual lives. Try practices that braid listening, healing, and purpose:

• Begin: Each morning, say slowly, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” Then keep one concrete, quiet promise you sense God asking of you today.
• Find an Eli: Seek out a spiritual director, a wise friend, or a mentor. Discernment ripens in conversation.
• Make room for a “desert place”: Ten to twenty minutes of silent prayer daily. Put the phone in another room. Let God re-center your desire.
• Review your day: A simple examen at night; Where did I sense God? Where did I resist? What is tomorrow’s next faithful step?
• Serve where you are healed: Let God’s mercy in your life become mercy through your life. Look for one person to help in a way that costs you something real but not destructive.
• Guard your narrative: Decline to let anxiety, algorithms, or adversarial voices define who you are. Let Scripture name you. Let the sacraments sustain you.

A Final Word for the Doorway at Dusk

By evening, the town brings its burdens to Jesus. By morning, he brings his heart to the Father. Between those two hours, a world is quietly remade. If your season feels like Samuel’s night; confusing, repetitive, dim; take courage: the lamp of God is not extinguished. If your life feels like that crowded doorway; so much need, so little time; remember: the hand that heals is guided by the heart that prays.

Here we are, Lord. We come to do your will. Speak, and we will listen. Heal, and we will serve. Send, and we will go wherever you lead.