Hearing The Voice Of God Quotes

Sometimes in history the name of God has been invoked on behalf of actions and movements that have ennobled the human soul and lifted the body politic to a higher plane. Take the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and the American civil rights movement, or Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the struggle against South African apartheid, as examples. Other times religious fervor has been employed for the worst kinds of sectarian and violent purposes. The Ku Klux Klan, the troubles in Northern Ireland, the wars in the former Yugoslavia, and David Koresh's Branch Davidian standoff in Waco, Texas, are frightening examples.

Is there a reliable guide to when we are really hearing the voice of God, or just a self-interested or even quite ungodly voice in the language of heaven? I think there is. Who speaks for God? When the voice of God is invoked on behalf of those who have no voice, it is time to listen. But when the name of God is used to benefit the interests of those who are speaking, it is time to be very careful. ~ Jim Wallis

The key to getting out of the boat is hearing the voice of God. ~ Mark Batterson

The faith comes by hearing; the reward by follow-through. ~ Johnnie Dent Jr.

The Lord will lead us into victory, but success itself is the most dangerous obstacle to properly hearing the voice of God. ~ Loren Cunningham

Rite To Tyr:

Hail to the One-Handed God!
Hail to Him whose name is Honor
And whose Word is iron,
Who alone never shirks the thankless task
Whose reason is Lawful Necessity.
Hail to the Lord of Swords,
Who gave a weapon-bearing hand
To see that what must be done was done in truth.
Hail God of the sunset, last single ray of light,
Lord of loyal morality, whose name none takes in vain.
Now must I face loss to do what is right,
O Lord Tyr, and I do not ask for your aid
To take away that loss, that I might hope for ease of action.
As you stood forth knowing you must lose to win,
So I ask only that you keep my back straight,
My arm strong, my hand from trembling,
My voice from faltering, my words from vanishing,
My head up, and my resolve unyielding
As I reach into the challenging maw of my own future. ~ Galina Krasskova

How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman! It is so seldom heard that, when it speaks,it ravishes all senses. ~ Philip Massinger

Duty
the command of heaven, the eldest voice of God. ~ Charles Kingsley

Suddenly, the voice of Yahweh broke Joshua out of his weeping. "Get up, Joshua. You sound more like the pathetic Israelites wishing they could go back to Egypt than their leader Moses in pleading for them." Joshua was terrified. He did not get up. "Joshua, get up, will you." Joshua got up. "Israel has sinned. They have violated my covenant and taken some of the devoted things of herem from Jericho. They have lied and taken them for their own possession. Therefore the people of Israel have become herem, and devoted to destruction. I will be with you no more unless you destroy the devoted things in your midst." "Who, my lord and god?" said Joshua. "Who is it who has taken these devoted items? ~ Brian Godawa

What he confessed was this. He had not been serving God, after all, when he followed Allen Dulles. He had been on a satanic quest.
These were some of James Jesus Angleton's dying words. He delivered them between fits of calamitous coughing - lung-scraping seizures that still failed to break him of his cigarette habit - and soothing sips of tea. "Fundamentally, the founding fathers of U.S. intelligence were liars," Angleton told Trento in an emotionless voice. "The better you lied and the more you betrayed, the more likely you would be promoted. . . . Outside of their duplicity, the only thing they had in common was a desire for absolute power. I did things that, in looking back on my life, I regret. But I was part of it and loved being in it."
He invoked the names of the high eminences who had run the CIA in his day - Dulles, Helms, Wisner. These men were "the grand masters," he said. "If you were in a room with them, you were in a room full of people that you had to believe would deservedly end up in hell."
Angleton took another slow sip from his steaming cup. "I guess I will see them there soon. ~ David Talbot

The most tragic consequence of our criticism of a man is to block his way to humiliation and grace, precisely to drive him into the mechanisms of self justification and into his faults instead of freeing him from them. For him, our voice drowns the voice of God. ~ Paul Tournier

love. she liberated me to life, she continued to do that. and when she was in her final sickness i went out to san francisco and the doctor said she had 3 weeks to live, i asked her "would you come to north carolina?" she said yes. she had emphysema and lung cancer, i brought her to my home. she lived for a year and a half ..and when she was finally in extraneous she was on oxygen and fighting cancer for her life and i remembered her liberating me, and i said i hoped i would be able to liberate her, she deserved that from me. she deserved a great daughter and she got one. so in her last days, i said "i understand some people need permission to go… as i understand it you may have done what god put you here to do. you were a great worker, you must've been a great lover cause a lot of men and if I'm not wrong maybe a couple of woman risked their lives to love you. you were a piss poor mother of small children but a you were great mother of young adults, and if you need permission to go, i liberate you". and i went back to my house, and something said go back- i was in my pajamas, i jumped in my car and ran and the nurse said "she just gone". you see love liberates. it doesn't bind, love says i love you. i love you if you're in china, i love you if you're across town, i love you if you're in harlem, i love you. i would like to be near you, i would like to have your arms around me i would like to have your voice in my ear but thats not possible now, i love you so go. love liberate ~ Maya Angelou

I used to think I couldn't go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.
Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard but the next was harder. I knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse, and I wasn't going to be okay for a very long time.
Because losing someone isn't an occasion or an event. It doesn't just happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose you every time I pick up your favorite coffee mug; whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I discover your old t-shirt at the bottom of my laundry pile.
I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you. I go to bed at night and lose you, when I wish could tell you about my day. And in the morning, when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheets, begin to lose you all over again. ~ Lang Leav

Hear me now or regret it later: Everything you write must be read aloud. Once all the context items are in place, this is the final test for any written piece...Do not neglect your sense of hearing in the process of writing and reading. As a longtime teacher of English as a foreign language, I can tell you on good authority that you have been listening to the English language at least five or six years longer than you have been writing and reading. And, most probably, your ears also had eighteen or more years of familiarity with the language before you began to read or write with a writer's sensibility. For these reasons, your ears know when things sound okay, good, beautiful, strange, awkward, or just plain bad, before your eye can pick up on such things...Your written voice should burn with the fire of fervent prayer, soothe like a friend's voice during a late-night phone call, alure like a lover's whisper. You must, through your accessible, infinitely read-aloudable voice, make your audience into an insatiable reader of your words. ~ Jiro Adachi

Through the open doorway suddenly stepped a small woman, long ebony hair braided intricately, huge blue eyes flashing at Mikhail. As Byron shouldered his way inside behind her, she gave him a friendly smile and stood on her toes to brush his chin with a kiss.
Mikhail stiffened, then immediately wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. "Carpathian women do not do that kind of thing," he reprimanded her.
She tilted her chin at him, in no way intimidated. "That's because Carpathian males have such a territorial mentality - you know, a beat-their-chest, swing-from-the-trees sort of thing." She turned her head to look at the couple lying on the floor. Her indrawn breath was audible.
"Jacques." She whispered his name, tears in her voice and in her blue eyes. "It really is you." Eluding Mikhail's outstretched, detaining hand, she ran to him.
Let her, Gregori persuaded softly. Look at him.
Jacques' gaze was fastened on the woman's face, the red flames receding from his eyes as she approached.
"I'm Raven, Jacques. Don't you remember me? Mikhail, your brother, is my lifemate." Raven dropped to her knees beside the couple. "Thank God you're alive. I can't believe how lucky we are. Who did this to you? Who took you from us?"
Shea felt the ripple of awareness in her mind. Jacques' shock. His curiosity. He recognized those tear-filled blue eyes. Shea caught a glimpse, a fragment of memory, the woman bending over him, her hands clamped to his thr ~ Christine Feehan

The devil has a thousand names," said Crews, voice rising, "but the name he takes the most pride in is Prince of Lies, because he is such a convincing fraud. Even God himself was fooled by Satan once, so what hope do we have to tell what's truth and what's false? ~ Robert Ferrigno

Music written by teams makes the authorship of a piece indistinct. Could it be that when hearing a song written by a team, a listener can sense that they aren't hearing an expression of a solitary individual's pain or joy, but that of a virtual conjoined person? Can we tell that an individual singer might actually represent a collective, that he might have multiple identities? Does that make the sentiments expressed more poetically universal? Dan eliminating some portion of the authorial voice make a piece of music more accessible and the singer more empathetic? ~ David Byrne

Better to be always in a minority of one with God - branded as madman, incendiary, fanatic, heretic, infidel - frowned upon by "the powers that be," and mobbed by the populace - or consigned ignominiously to the gallows, like him whose "soul is marching on," though his "body lies mouldering in the grave," or burnt to ashes at the stake like Wickliffe, or nailed to the cross like him who "gave himself for the world," - in defence of the RIGHT, than like Herod, having the shouts of a multitude crying, "It is the voice of a god, and not of a man! ~ William Lloyd Garrison

Four years ago the clocks started turning back. I open my eyes and see nothing. I feel nothing below or above me. I feel the absence of things. The absence of my flesh, my bones, my body, my mind. All that is left is awareness. I see nothing but the absence of colour. It's not a black darkness. It's simply nothing. The interior of a black hole. I recall news of a black hole lingering along the edges of our solar system. All that time ago. Four years ago. When the clocks started turning back. I hear nothing. Until there is a something. A small thing. A voice. I listen. There are more voices. The sounds are human. How long has it been since I've heard a human? The sounds scratch along my now present attention. They carve into my hearing. They are horrid, wretched things. Voices screaming. Growing loud and desperate. How many voices? Billions. This is the birth of our species. We are born screaming. It's all we know to do. We have screamed for eternity. Within this empty space. ~ F.K. Preston

It made it easier that they both believed in the simplest kind of afterlife - that my father could say to her, even in those last days, joking but without irony, 'You're going to get tired of hearing from me. I'll be asking you for this that and the other thing twenty-four hours a day. JESUS, you'll be saying, here comes another prayer from Dennis.' And my mother would reply, her voice hoarse with pain, 'Jesus might advise you to take in a movie once in a while. Give your poor wife a rest. She's in heaven, after all.'
It was a joke, but they believed it, and they believed, too, I think, that their love, their loyalty to one another, was no longer a matter of chance or happenstance, but a condition of their existence no more voluntary or escapable than the pace of their blood, the influx of perception...There was, in their anticipation of what was to come, a queer self-satisfaction. It was clear now that they would love each other until the last moment of her life - hadn't that been the goal from the beginning? They would love each other even beyond the days they had lived together; was there any greater triumph? ~ Alice McDermott

Ayden and Blake stared each other down.
"Oh. My. God," Luna blurted from Ayden's back seat. "It's a love triangle."
We all looked at her like she'd sprouted an alien from her head. "it's just like in a book. Two guys after one girl and-"
I groaned. "That's ridiculous, Luna, this is not a love triangle."
"Says the girl in the middle of a love triangle. Luna ignored my protests and prattled on. "Not one Hexy Boy but two. I've got to call Danica. Oooo," she squealed and clapped her hands,"We could have teams. Team Ayden and Team Blake. With T-shirt and buttons and-"
"I could make a website," Lucian offered.
"No!" My voice pitched with panic. "No teams. No shirts. No-"
"I'll get you some headshots," Blake said, turning his profile towards Luna and Lucian. "I've been told the left is my best side. What do you think?"
"Aurora's right," Ayden said. "This is buts. Blake you can follow us-"
"Dude, you know no one would pick Team Ayden. You're just jealous."
"That's not true. My team would be way bigger than yours."
"Dare to dream, little man, dare to dream."
"Care to make a wager on it?"
"Absolutely."
"Fine. How about-"
"You two shut up!" I shoved myself out of the car. ~ A. Kirk

Read a work on the "Evidences of Christianity," and it may become highly probable that Christianity, etc., are true. This is an opinion. Feel God. Do His will, till the Absolute Imperative within you speaks as with a living voice, "Thou shalt, and thou shalt not;" and then you do not think, you know that there is a God. ~ Frederick William Robertson

To-day if ye shall hear his voice, harden not your hearts" (Heb. 4:7). That is evangelical preaching. Is this ruthless speed? Nothing could be more ruthless than to make men think there is still plenty of time to mend their ways. To tell men that the cause is urgent, and that the kingdom of God is at hand is the most charitable and merciful act we can perform, the most joyous news we can bring. ~ Dietrich Bonhoeffer

I had a terror of the world. None knew me; all would mistake me. I had seen so many in my life who made themselves glad with scorning, and laughed at another's shame. What could I do? This life seemed to be closing in upon me with a wall of fire - everywhere there was scorching that made me shrink. The high sunlight made me shrink. And I began to think that my despair was the voice of God telling me to die. ~ George Eliot

Here was the shattering of the second wall: I had read the Bible many times through, and I saw for myself that it had a holy Author; I saw for myself that it was a canonized collection of sixty-six books with a unified biblical revelation. I heard for myself that when the words "this is mine" came out of my mouth in congregational singing, I was attesting to this one, simple truth: that the line of communication that God ordained for his people required this wrestling with Scripture, and that I truly wanted both to hear God's voice breathed in my life, and I wanted God to hear my pleas. The fog burned away. The whole Bible, each jot and tittle, was my open highway to a holy God. ~ Rosaria Champagne Butterfield

I, who have been so many men in vain, want to be one man, myself alone. From out of a whirlwind the voice of God replied: I am not, either. I dreamed the world the way you dreamed your work, my Shakespeare: one of the forms of my dream was you, who, like me, are many and one. ~ Jorge Luis Borges

Let this change you. Let this take hold in the very center of your soul. Write it on the walls of your heart. Let this emanate through every part of you, and trickle into every aspect of your life.
You were not designed to be merely a good person, but that through the experience of mortality you could embrace the divinity you were created with. I do not merely want you to get along with others, but for everyone to be one, and one in me. Not for my glory, but that the glory of godliness will exalt you to a higher plane of existence, beyond anything you've ever imagined.
Throw out weakness and fear; rid yourself of those spoiled garments. Adorn yourself with new garments, spotless and pure. Be reborn. Set your hand to the plow and look not back. Take that first step onto the water; do not fear the wind or the waves, for it is I your Lord and Savior who beckon you. Listen o listen to my voice, which is the voice of the Good Sheppard who calls you; for why should ye parish for naught?'
Parker, the bar has been set, for you and for I, and all the rest of humanity should we chose to accept the invitation," Flavius concluded powerfully. ~ Michael Brent Jones

Never doubt God in the darkness what he has given us in the light. ~ Francine Rivers

The Word of God hidden in the heart is a stubborn voice to suppress. ~ Billy Graham

Late one night, during a toss-and-turn fretful sleep, I pondered my crisis. No solutions were on the horizon. I, again, wasted my psychic energy with prayer. Nothing. No angel on a white cloud. No rainbow's pot of gold. No way to control the people I loved. As I rolled over and put the pillow over my head attempting to block all that was negative, I silently screamed for rescue. Then, in a far away and distinct part of my brain, a small voice said, "You have to do this on your own."

I thought, "Was that the best You can do?" This god, to whom I was desperately sending burnt offerings of my own humiliation, couldn't send an avenging angel or a wise man imparting wisdom? All You can give me is this feeble message of abandonment? At that moment, I quit believing in that god. ~ David W. Earle

I'd say ... " Petra crossed her legs, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd say, I am too fucking fabulous for one gender. Oh, and can we please get rid of the cheesy dance numbers? It's like torture step-ball-change."
"I'd say I am not a race. I am an individual," Nicole said.
Sosie moved her fingers gracefully, but no one understood. She waited for a moment. "I would say, learn to hear me in my own voice. I'm hearing impaired, not invisible. ~ Libba Bray

It is astonishing to realize that growing up actually means to become one with Existence. It means to find the whole Existence within myself, it means to discover that Existence is alive in my own heart and being.
The song of a bird echoes my own inner voice, the beauty of a flower reflects my own inner beauty, a dog becomes an expression of my own unconditional love and friendship, the majestic mountains create an exstatic joy, and I discover all the shining stars of the sky within my own heart.
It is to realize that the whole Existence is alive, and that the underlying thread of consciousness is God. ~ Swami Dhyan Giten

Build your house on granite. By granite I mean your nature that you are torturing to death, the love in your child's body, your wife's dream of love, your own dream of life when you were sixteen. Exchange your illusions for a bit of truth. Throw out your politicians and diplomats! Take your destiny into your own hands and build your life on rock. Forget about your neighbor and look inside yourself! Your neighbor, too, will be grateful. Tell you're fellow workers all over the world that you're no longer willing to work for death but only for life. Instead of flocking to executions and shouting hurrah, hurrah, make a law for the protection of human life and its blessings. Such a law will be part of the granite foundation your house rests on. Protect your small children's love against the assaults of lascivious, frustrated men and women. Stop the mouth of the malignant old maid; expose her publicly or send her to a reform school instead of young people who are longing for love. Don;t try to outdo your exploiter in exploitation if you have a chance to become a boss. Throw away your swallowtails and top hat, and stop applying for a license to embrace your woman. Join forces with your kind in all countries; they are like you, for better or worse. Let your child grow up as nature (or 'God') intended. Don't try to improve on nature. Learn to understand it and protect it. Go to the library instead of the prize fight, go to foreign countries rather than to Coney Island. And first and f ~ Wilhelm Reich

Zane looks pensive, and then his lips twitch. "They say most girls end up marrying a guy just like their dad."
"Oh God … That's so lame," I say, spluttering as coffee dribbles down my chin.
"I believe it's a tried and tested theory," he says, standing up and wiping my chin with the back of his hand. I jolt at his touch.
"Now it's a theory? I thought it was a saying? Next you'll be telling me it's a fact." I flop back down on the couch.
"Empirical evidence shows that sixty-eight percent of girls marry a guy who displays similar personality traits to her father ..." His voice trails off as I shake my head. "What?" he asks, his palms open and raised.
"You really need to get out more. Where'd you glean that interesting nugget? The desperate men's journal perhaps? ~ Siobhan Davis

My Chocolate Mudslide is going down smooth when we hear the three bells. Bing. Bing. Bing. But instead of Dan Dan the Party Man, it's a woman's voice and she's breathing heavily. She sounds Filipina, if that's even a thing. "Bravo… Bravo… Bravo," she pants. "Main engine. Starboard side. Bravo… Bravo… Bravo." We hear the speaker shut off. People look around a little nervously. The dancer warming up on stage makes a beeline for backstage. Within seconds the three bells are back. Oh, thank God, it's our Greek captain. "Laydis and gentlemen, thissis your captain spicking. Pliss proceed to your muster stations." This is not what I wanted him to say. We get up and make our way painfully slowly through the completely full theater. Everyone is quiet. Which is the wooooooorst. It's scary when a group of people all know instinctively not to joke around. Another voice comes over the PA, repeating, "Please, remain calm. Please proceed to your muster stations." The German half of me is thinking, "Shove the old people out of the way. Shove the old and the infirm! If they are strong enough to resist you, they deserve to live." The Greek half of me wants to scream at our Greek captain. I do neither and proceed obediently. ~ Tina Fey

You are the least sane person I've had the
misfortune to meet."
The corners of her eyes pinched a little, just for the
barest second, then cleared. "Well, there are plenty
more people for you to meet, Mr. Merrick, so do not
give up hope yet." But the tone of her voice was far
too cheerful.
He watched her for a moment. Watched as her
face cleared of anything remotely hurt or upset. "Do
you object to being called insane or my saying that I
had the misfortune of meeting you?"
"Neither, of course."
He drummed his finger on the desk, irritated and,
God, how did people live feeling guilty about things?
"You are just fine as you are," he said gruffly.
Her expression froze for a moment, then bloomed
into a smile that would slay demons. ~ Anne Mallory

One of the voices that we struggle with inside is the voice of religion. Religion teaches us some very strict things about God and our relationship with God. Some religions teach us that we aren't worthy of having a personal relationship with God. ~ Echo Bodine

Hey, baby," Chelsea said in a voice that bordered on baby talk as Mike bent down to give her a quick kiss. "Miss me?"
Violet almost rolled her eyes.
"I thought about you all period," he answered, his voice husky. "Did you get the note I left in your backpack?"
Violet couldn't hold back any longer; she rolled her eyes. Neither of them noticed.
"I did. You're so sweet." The cooing verged on sickening. "Did anyone say anything about your mustache?"
Mike winced, as if he suddenly remembered the patchy hair on his upper lip. "A coupla' people," he reluctantly responded, and Violet suspected that he'd taken his hair share of ribbing over it.
Chelsea ignored the obvious distress in his voice. "Vi and I gotta run or we'll be late." She stretched up to kiss him and then rubbed her thumb across the hairs above his lip as if she were petting them. "See you after class."
Chelsea tugged at Violet, who was still staring at his unsightly mustache. It was like seeing a car accident…hard to look away.
"So do you? Like it, I mean?" Violet asked as she was being dragged down the hallway.
"The mustache?" Chelsea grimaced. "God, no. It's hideous on him."
"Then, why?"
"I told you, to see if he'd actually do it. Don't worry. I'm gonna make him shave it this weekend."
Violet wasn't sure whether to congratulate her friend on her training abilities or reprimand her for being so cruel. In the end, she didn't do either, mostly because she knew ~ Kimberly Derting

Her mother had come a week after the baby died, the only time Annie had seen her since she'd left Kansas. Her hair gone white, her dress starched stiff, her small hands as dry as paper. Annie had wanted her mother to make it better. What she got was "God decides what's right for us" and a butter cake she'd packed from home, made by someone in the congregation. Maybe something truthful, some real emotion from her mother, might have been a small bridge Annie could have crossed. But hers had been a family of hidden feelings, held tongues. "Life is so hard out here," her mother had said, unable to wipe the sigh from her voice, the disapproval, as if the Panhandle - Annie's choice - was somehow to blame for the baby's death. Annie had been too grief-tired to get angry, but she had had the thought, when she looked at her mother's stolid face, that she would probably never see her ~ Rae Meadows

What could be a greater privilege than to listen to the voice of God, and be granted by God himself the ears to hear? ~ John Piper

Our missionary message is strengthened by the knowledge of the Restoration. We know that God speaks to His prophets today, just as He did anciently. We also know that His gospel is administered with the power and authority of the restored priesthood. No other message has such great eternal significance to everyone living on the earth today. All of us need to teach this message to others with power and conviction. It is the still, small voice of the Holy Ghost that testifies through us of the miracle of the Restoration, but first we must open our mouths and testify. We must warn our neighbors. ~ L. Tom Perry

When you worry, there is static coming through your mind radio. God's song is the song of calmness. Nervousness is the static; calmness is the voice of God speaking to you through the radio of your soul. ~ Paramahansa Yogananda