Ep. 9: Hearing Voices

<< Previous Episode

Were these voices from God, my imagination, or something more sinister?

The Lord came and stood there, calling as at the other times, “Samuel! Samuel!”
Then Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” (1 Sam. 3:10 NIV)

Things were looking up.

Soo and I finally became husband and wife, two-and-a-half years after I popped the question and four years since we first met. We moved into a new home– a cozy little condo that we bought together– and were part of a new church community, which we both loved. I had a steady job that I didn’t hate, and, most importantly, I was out of the spiritual rut I had been stuck in while seeking God.

I had so much to be thankful for, especially after nearly four years of anxiety, toil, heartbreak, and uncertainty, and I remember praying, “God, this was never my dream– working in a print shop, living in the suburbs– but what You’ve given me is so much better than what I thought I wanted. Thank you.”

I was content for the first time in my life. I didn’t think I needed any of my circumstances to change. I was where I wanted to be.

This lasted about three weeks.

Less than a month after our wedding, I received an email from someone whom I had never met before. She introduced herself as a television producer and told me that she was screening a load of videotapes that someone had given her, saw one last cassette lying at the bottom of the box, and decided to play it, even though it was getting late and she really wanted to go home.

It turned out to be a tape of the animated short film I had made, three years earlier.

She told me she liked it. She said it was funny. And she asked if I’d be interested in developing it into a television series.

Come again?

For years, I tried to break into the entertainment industry, but to no avail. I worked my tail off, trying to get my work noticed during the one-year ultimatum from Soo, but nothing ever panned out. I had given up on that dream and made peace with the way my life had turned out, and now, a stranger came out of nowhere and asked if I’d like to develop a TV show.

“Cool!” I thought. “I had surrendered any hopes of ever getting married, and now, I’m married to Soo, whom I had surrendered my hopes of ever being with– twice! I surrendered my dreams of working in the entertainment industry, and now, that door is being opened to me. Following God is great!” This was flawed thinking: I had the wrong idea of what it means to surrender to God, who is not a genie whom we can manipulate in order to have our wishes fulfilled.

I’d learn soon enough that surrendering to God is about submitting ourselves to what He wants, not getting Him to do what we want. And when we do submit to God’s will, we sometimes find ourselves taking unexpected detours, with no idea where we might end up.

The producer and I entered further discussions and started to involve Tony, the friend who introduced Soo and me to our home church and happened to be my writing partner on the animated short film. Within months, we signed a contract with this producer to develop our short film into a twenty-six episode animated series for a cable network. I resigned from my job as a graphic designer and became the co-creator, director, head writer, and star (I voiced about ten of the characters) of our own show.

This was it, baby. I was living my Hollywood dream.

I saw this opportunity as a gift from God, and I resolved to do my best in order to make the show succeed. I’d work sixteen to eighteen hours a day, emerging from my home office only to have dinner with Soo when she got home from work. (Not the best way to start a marriage together– we were more like roommates than newlyweds.) I’d scarf down my meal, then dart back into my office and get right back to work until the wee hours, crawling into bed when Soo was already halfway through her night of sleep.

Roughly three months into production, I had another vivid dream, but it wasn’t pleasant like the one I had about meeting Soo. In this dream, an unseen figure, cloaked in complete darkness, whispered to me, “If you want your show to succeed, all you have to do is bow to me.”

There was nothing overtly creepy about the way the voice spoke, but somehow, I knew that this was the voice of evil.

Before He began His ministry on earth, Jesus went into the wilderness, fasting and praying for forty days (Matt. 4:1-2). During that time, the devil took Him to the top of a mountain and showed Him the kingdoms of the world, saying, “All this I will give you, if you will bow down and worship me” (vv. 8-9).

Jesus replied, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only’” (v. 10).

When I was in Indonesia, I heard stories about a mountain in East Java where people would go and pray to the spirits there, asking for financial success in exchange for their souls– or, more horrifyingly, in exchange for their children. I’d hear stories of businessmen who’d strike it rich, then lose children to accidents or disease, as if they were paying the price in exchange for power and success in this world. There were also shamans who could be solicited to tell your fortune, curse an enemy, sell you a customized “good luck” charm, or increase your chances for success in your business or career by performing rituals and invoking spirits. Some may scoff and write this off as folk religion or superstition, but from a biblical standpoint, these are “detestable practices” which God forbids (Deut. 18:10-13). They are sacrifices to false gods, which are actually demons (Deut. 32:16-17), and we cannot participate in both the table of demons and the table of the Lord (1 Cor. 10:19-22).

“I’ll never bow to anyone but God Himself,” I resolved in my dream, confidently declaring, “and if that means I won’t succeed with this venture, then so be it.”

The unseen figure in my dream left me, but it wasn’t over.

The battle was about to begin.

Three months into production, our crew had found our groove, cranking out episodes as best as we could. Four episodes of the show were in the can, ready to air, and we had twenty-two more episodes to write, animate, edit, and score. I expected to be working on this show for at least the next two years.

Everything changed on a Saturday night, in March 2005. I was fast asleep, exhausted by my grueling schedule, when a voice interrupted my slumber.

This voice was different than the one telling me to bow to it. This voice was gentle, yet commanding. It was powerful but not loud. It resonated with authority, but wasn’t threatening.

It was a still, small voice, speaking to me in a dream.

“Stop working so hard on that show,” said the voice. “It’s not going to last very long. You’re going to serve God, you’re going to work at the church, and you’re going to be a pastor there someday.”

Me, a pastor? Yeah, right.

My mind immediately raced with all the reasons I thought this was ludicrous: I hadn’t gone to seminary, and even if I wanted to go, I didn’t have an undergrad degree, which would take at least four years to earn. Add three years of seminary on top of that, and we were looking at around seven years before I could even begin pursuing a role as a pastor. Plus, I never had the slightest desire to work in ministry: I had never even so much as volunteered for anything at any church. My Christian life was limited to Sunday church attendance. Who would ever let a guy like me become a pastor?

The dream ended. I woke up, quickly processed what had just happened, and chalked it up to a bad dream, perhaps spurred by my own anxieties over the show.

There’s no way this could be true, I told myself. I went back to sleep.

The next day was a Sunday. Our church was holding a preview service for a new site, and Soo and I wanted to be there to support the launch. We drove to the banquet facility where this preview service was to be held and parked in an empty lot across the street.

Soo and I stepped inside and were greeted by ushers, who directed us to our seats. Since we were among the first to arrive, we were seated in one of the front rows.

The worship leader came out and kicked off the service with a rousing gospel number. As we joined him in singing, I started to hear a voice– not audibly, but as a series of impressions, or words registering in my consciousness without emerging from any thought processes.

It was the voice I had heard the night before. “So what are you going to do about it?” asked the voice.

“Do about what?” I replied, in this inner dialogue.

“What I told you last night.”

“Hold on,” I objected. “How do I know this is from God? What if this is just my imagination, or worse, a demonic lie?” (I had learned enough about Satan and demons at our previous church to know how they operate, through lies and other means of deception. Even though I wasn’t happy at that church and didn’t really like the sermons, I still learned from them, for, according to Isaiah 55:11, the word of God does not return to Him empty; it will accomplish His desires and achieve His purposes for which He sent it. The lessons I learned at that church would continue to bear fruit for years afterward, despite my dislike of it.)

“All right. How would you like me to confirm it to you?” challenged the voice.

I had recently heard a sermon about Gideon, who was threshing wheat in a winepress in order to hide it from their enemies, the Midianites, when God spoke to him, calling him a “mighty warrior” who would save Israel (Judges 6:11-12, 14). Gideon couldn’t help but question this, as he was the smallest in his family, one of the weakest clans in Manasseh (v. 15). Why would he, of all people, be the one God would call to become a mighty warrior and defeat an army of invaders so powerful, Gideon’s people had to seek shelter in caves and mountain clefts (vv. 2-3) and hide their food from these marauders?

Gideon wanted to be sure this was really God speaking to him. He said, ““If now I have found favor in your eyes, give me a sign that it is really you talking to me” (v. 17). God would give Gideon the signs he asked for: First, Gideon made an offering, which he saw get consumed by fire (vv. 18-22). Then came the more well-known episode involving “Gideon’s fleece”:

Gideon said to God, “If you will save Israel by my hand as you have promised—  look, I will place a wool fleece on the threshing floor. If there is dew only on the fleece and all the ground is dry, then I will know that you will save Israel by my hand, as you said.” And that is what happened. Gideon rose early the next day; he squeezed the fleece and wrung out the dew—a bowlful of water. Then Gideon said to God, “Do not be angry with me. Let me make just one more request. Allow me one more test with the fleece, but this time make the fleece dry and let the ground be covered with dew.”  That night God did so. Only the fleece was dry; all the ground was covered with dew. (Judges 6: 36-40)

If even a biblical figure like Gideon needed some sort of confirmation that it was God speaking to him, I figured it’d be all right for me to do the same. “I’d like a sign, like Gideon,” I replied, “and I’d like three of them as well.” My rationale was that a single sign could be random and two matching signs might be coincidence, but three matching signs start forming a pattern.

“Fine,” the voice replied. “This will be the sign: three people from your church will speak to you as you leave the service today.”

“Okay,” I said. “If that happens, I’ll believe that this is God speaking to me, and I’ll do whatever You say. But if this doesn’t happen, I’ll chalk this all up to my imagination or a bad dream.”

The sermon began. I don’t remember what the message was about because all I could think about were the words that I got in my sleep the night before: “You’re going to serve God… You’re going to work at the church… You’re going to be a pastor there someday.” I was also thinking of the confirmation I had asked for. Would I receive it?

The service came to a close. It was time. I would put the voice to the test and see if three people really would speak to me as we left the service.

Once the pastor dismissed us, we all rose to our feet and started heading towards the exit. Because Soo and I had arrived early, we were seated up front, which meant that we were now in the back of the crowd as everyone filed out of their rows, funneling towards the open doors. “Everyone’s facing away from us,” I observed. “Who’s going to talk to us as we leave?”

Just as I completed that thought, a girl whom I had stopped to let out of her row turned around and said, “Thank you.”

Was this the first person from church to speak to me as we were leaving?

Adrenaline kicked in. This might really happen, I thought. Would two more people speak to me as we left the service?

My heart was pounding.

The anticipation, the excitement– it all started to fizzle as we got closer to the exit. Everyone was eager to leave, and no one else was turning around to say anything to me. A piece of hope died with every step we took.

I braced myself for disappointment.

My bubble burst the moment we crossed the threshold and stepped out into the sunlight. I should have known better, I thought to myself. Who was I to think I’d ever serve God, anyway? Who was I to think anyone would ever be crazy enough to make me a pastor?

Soo and I descended the concrete steps and started heading for our car, parked across the street. My friend Tony was waiting for us by the curb; we had arranged to meet so that I could return a DVD that I had borrowed from him.

As Tony and I began to chat, the voice said, “Here’s the second person.”

My hopes rose again, but when I took a glance down the street, I saw no one else standing between us and the crosswalk, so it seemed highly unlikely that we would encounter anyone else on the way back to our car.

Soo and I parted with Tony and continued on our way. There was no one between us, the crosswalk, and our car, but there was a stairway that led down from the banquet hall. We couldn’t see if anyone was on the stairs because the rails were high, solid walls.

As we crossed in front of the stairway, we bumped into a group that was coming down the steps– it was none other than our lead pastor, Dave, leaving with his family. “Take care, man,” he said, with a jovial slap to my shoulder.

Chills jolted my entire being– this was the third person from our church to speak to me as we were leaving the service, and it was none other than the senior pastor.

Did I just get confirmation that God was calling me to ministry?

Was it really Him who had spoken to me the night before and challenged me earlier in the day? I could barely mask my excitement thinking about this, but I couldn’t say anything to Soo, as I didn’t want my new bride to think that she had married some sort of weirdo who made life decisions based on crazy dreams and strange voices in his head. (At least, I didn’t want her to know during our first year of marriage.)

Moments later, I heard another voice: this time, it was the voice of doubt. “Tony didn’t count as the second person. You already knew you were going to meet him after church, so that didn’t count. Only random encounters count towards the confirmation you had asked for.” I agreed with this assessment and doubted that God was calling me to be a pastor.

On our way home, Soo asked if we could stop at a new sandwich shop that we had passed by earlier. They were having their grand opening, and the place was packed. We had barely stepped through the doors and I was trying to orient myself to the store layout when I heard a voice calling my name through the clamor. (An audible, human voice, that is.)

I glanced about to see who it was, but was overwhelmed by sensory overload and couldn’t pinpoint the source of the voice.

I saw Soo make eye contact with someone, smile in that direction, and wave. I traced her gaze to find another pastor from our home church, sitting there with his family, waving at us. Now, we had only met this pastor once before, and I was told that he doesn’t always remember names, so it was rather remarkable that he would be calling my name.

The voice that I had heard calling me to ministry– the voice I will henceforth refer to as The Voice– spoke up again.

“If Tony didn’t count as the second person, and the three confirmations have to be random, then here is the third person from your church to speak to you as you leave the service.” It occurred to me that The Voice didn’t specify where all this would happen; it simply said it would happen “as you leave the service.”

I received the three confirmations I had asked for in just a little over one hour. Unbelievable. I prayed, “Okay, God, I believe it’s You. I believe that what I heard last night is true, and I’ll do whatever You say.”

“Good. I want you to start by joining a small group.”

“That’s it? Join a small group? I thought you said I’d be a pastor at the church someday.”

“I thought you said you’d do whatever I say.”

Touché.

“All right,” I conceded. “I’ll apply to join a small group.”

I immediately suggested to Soo that we join a small group. She thought it was a great idea, so I visited our church’s website and filled out a form to join a small group.

We waited for a response.

Days went by. Then weeks.

No response. I was getting antsy.

Meanwhile, production on the TV show was ramping up and we had to have a full season in the can before the big premiere, coming up in less than a year. My schedule was bound to get more intense. There was work to be done.

I finally received an email from our church’s small groups coordinator. I eagerly opened it, eyes racing across the text only to find bad news: none of the church’s small groups were open to new members.

Disappointed and a tad angry, I took this before God and said, “Look, I tried to do what you said– I tried to join a small group, but they’re all closed. Besides, I’m getting really busy with my show, which I believe You opened the doors to, so how about I get back to work on that, and when production is over, I’ll make some money and cut a nice check to the church. How’s that?”

And with that, I shoved all of this aside and went right back to work on the show.

(To be continued. Hint: it’s usually not a great idea to try to negotiate your way out of a calling from God.)