I haven’t heard The Voice since early spring of 2000, more than eleven years ago. That last time was just a whisper, just four words totaling five syllables: “This is your story.”
I had come to anticipate that Voice every few months or years; now I wonder if it will ever come again. The earlier words were clarion calls or short conversations that made God’s presence obvious and nearly palpable, leaving me steadied and comforted. The last one seemed to come from a distance, and there was only silence when I asked what the words meant.
While I don’t associate the Voice with the presence of God, which never leaves us, nevertheless I am left with a longing for what is gone, and left wondering what (if anything) it means. Occasionally there is even the nagging worry that I have “done something wrong” and that if I could just change something The Voice will come again.
More likely I am now expected to yield to more subtle nudges of the Spirit for guidance.
But I don’t really know, and that is hard for me.