Through What Lens Do I See
For most of my life, I thought I understood what the voice of God sounded like. I was raised in a traditional Pentecostal environment where everything was clearly defined. There were rules to follow, boundaries not to cross, and a constant awareness that God was always watching. His voice, as I perceived it, was firm and often corrective—sometimes even condemning. I never questioned it; that was simply how things were. However, when I turned 25, something changed.
It didn’t happen all at once. Gradually, I began to experience God in a different way. I started having dreams and visions, and I would write down things that felt like they were coming from somewhere beyond my own thoughts. It was as if I was waking up to a deeper reality—one that had always existed but that I hadn’t known how to access before.
For a time, I embraced that newfound awareness. However, when I began preaching, I noticed something unexpected: the old voice returned. It was the same tone, filled with fear and rigid expectations. This influenced how I spoke, how I interpreted Scripture, and how I understood God. It left me wondering: What happened to the voice I had encountered during my awakening?
Years later, in 2000, (which I've shared before), I had an experience that would leave a lasting impact on my life. After my uncle passed away, I heard his voice—clear, internal, and unmistakable: “Tell my family I made it.” He repeated this three times.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. When I returned home, I felt compelled to open my Bible. I wasn’t looking for anything specific, but I had a sense that I would find something meaningful. As I opened it, my eyes landed on a verse about speaking for those who cannot speak. The timing felt too precise to ignore. In that moment, something shifted within me—again. From that point on, the voice I associated with God transformed. It was no longer harsh or condemning; instead, it became gentle, loving, and restorative. It spoke of reconciliation rather than punishment, and of grace rather than fear.
Eventually, I saw a pattern. The way I experienced God seemed deeply connected to my beliefs about Him. When I believed God was strict, I perceived strictness in His voice. When I believed God was loving, I heard love.
This realization led me to a deeper question: How much of what we call “God’s voice” is shaped by the lens through which we view Him? It’s a question I’m still learning to navigate.
Have a blessed day!