What is conversation with God?

I BELIEVE THAT we know much more about God than we admit that we know, than perhaps we altogether know that we know. God speaks to us, I would say, much more often than we realize or than we choose to realize. Before the sun sets every evening, he speaks to each of us in an intensely personal and unmistakable way. His message is not written out in starlight, which in the long run would make no difference; rather it is written out for each of us in the humdrum, helter-skelter events of each day; it is a message that in the long run might just make all the difference. Who knows what he will say to me today or to you today or into the midst of what kind of unlikely moment he will choose to say it. Not knowing is what makes today a holy mystery as every day is a holy mystery. But I believe that there are some things that by and large God is always saying to each of us. Each of us, for instance, carries around inside himself, I believe, a certain emptiness — a sense that something is missing, a restlessness, the deep feeling that somehow all is not right inside his skin. Psychologists sometimes call it anxiety, theologians sometimes call it estrangement, but whatever you call it, I doubt that there are many who do not recognize the experience itself, especially no one of our age, which has been variously termed the age of anxiety, the lost generation, the beat generation, the lonely crowd. Part of the inner world of everyone is this sense of emptiness, unease, incompleteness, and I believe that this in itself is a word from God, that this is the sound that God’s voice makes in a world that has explained him away. In such a world, I suspect that maybe God speaks to us most clearly through his silence, his absence, so that we know him best through our missing him. But he also speaks to us about ourselves, about what he wants us to do and what he wants us to become; and this is the area where I believe that we know so much more about him than we admit even to ourselves, whe

Listen to your life. Listen to what happens to you because it is through what happens to you that God speaks . . . It's in language that's not always easy to decipher, but it's there, powerfully, memorably, unforgettably.

Now it is certain, by the voice of all mankind, that God speaks to us through His works—that He whispers to us through our natural conscience—that He attracts us to Him by instincts, and desires, and aspirations after a happiness higher than sense, and more enduring, more changeless, than this mortal life. God speaks to us articulately in the stirring life of nature, and in the silence of our own being.

When God talks, you got to listen, and I swear life is funny. Because some of the craziest things that happen to you end up being the things that you needed most. And in this case, I honestly feel like God basically told me to sit down.

because God has spoken, and everything else is commentary.

We speak, but it is God who teaches.

The invited one felt something stronger than himself, stronger than his childhood and youthful dreams, plans and ideals. It's usually a barely noticeable whisper. You need to listen to it well, strain your attention, if you want to hear it. God's voice is never a command. It is a call for free radical choice. By calling, God guarantees his presence as a friendly force and support in temptations, the courage that the called one can give testimony of Him.

God has spoken, and everything else is commentary.

"I seemed to hear God saying, "Put down your gun and we'll talk.

God speaks, we listen, and that's the whole process of discernment. Everybody has discernment all their life, what have I been blind to, and what do I need to do to recognize the presence of God in my life?

We are told that God has spoken. Where? In a book? We have tried it, and it disappoints; it disappoints, that most holy and blessed gift, not from fault of its own, but because it is used for a purpose for which it was not given. The Ethiopian's reply, when St. Philip asked him if he understood what he was reading, is the voice of nature; "How can I, unless some man shall guide me?" The Church undertakes that office; she does what none else can do, and this is the secret of the power.

God's dialogue with us becomes truly human, since God conducts his part as man.

Why is it when we talk to God we're said to be praying — but when God talks to us, we're said to be schizophrenic?