Guest Post - The Clarity of God's Whisper by Wally Pohlmann

Walking the game trails in the hills of the Okanagan valley, I had “jumped” several deer. I was only able to gain a glimpse of my prey as they casually sauntered away.

There was no indication they were there, no sound that I heard before they decided to leave my presence. They had been aware of me for a while, I was sure, staying put until I got too close.

I had a problem. I was loud, and the trails were covered with small broken branches, dry pine needles, and leaves from the low bush. On some of the hillsides, the rocks seemed to constantly fall down the slope, gathering friends along the way, loudly welcoming my arrival. I was so loud I wondered if I could ever get close enough to the game I chased when all I heard were my own footsteps and the scrape of branches on my clothes. It was true the rocks and trees can cry out. They shouted about my presence to every deer in the area as I walked, climbed, and stumbled my way along the hillside.

Mid-morning, I took some time to sit on an old stump for a breather in the middle of an old clearing, cut many years before. While having a drink from the thermos I carried and a bit of cheese to eat, I watched a fog rise from the valley. The mist slowly climbed the hill towards the clearing, and I remember thinking it looked thicker than the proverbial pea soup.

As I sat on my stump this fog continued up the hill towards me until I was enveloped in the milky white of some of the thickest cloud I have ever been in. I could see, possibly, eight feet of the ground before it disappeared into the white nothingness. To move would not be wise, as I was aware of the slope and the sheer drops that accompanied my noisy walk when I could see, and at that moment I could not. So, I had another cup of coffee.

While I sat, I noticed the sounds of the morning which had followed me seemed louder, more distinct. I could not only hear the squirrel that seemed to dog my footsteps all morning, I could almost point out the branch he presently watched me from, even in the state of blindness I found myself in.

Minutes into this forced interlude I heard the footsteps of a deer coming in my direction, and even though I knew it would need to come within the eight-foot radius where I could see, I still prepared my rifle. On the steps came. My prey came closer and closer. I listened as the mule deer hesitated, then took a few more steps. I thought that if I just had arms that were ten feet long, I would be able to touch it. I did not have the arms, and I did not get a shot at the deer, as the sound of his footsteps receded. The fog lifted slowly, and I found myself once again alone in the middle of the clearing. The tracks of the deer were right there in front of me at about fifteen feet, and I had seen nothing.

This is how God has spoken to me as I have stumbled and staggered through life, as much a rookie Christian as I was a rookie hunter then. I make too much noise as I stumble around in blindness.

When I was fired, the polite term is laid off, for the first time in my life, we had two mortgages, teenage kids, and even when we cut every expense we could, we were still giving out more than we were taking in. I spent a time or two in the garage making more noise, again.  I tromped around in my self-pity, frustration, and anger. “Why me?” I prayed, loudly. “I considered, and I took the risk I thought you were asking me to take, and now what will I do?” I yelled a lot, and then I fell into a deep, dark hole. I stopped yelling in the garage and began the noisy outcry called depression. The noise I speak of is the constant buzz of a mosquito in one’s ear. It was made up of whining, crying, bargaining, and negotiating with God about what I thought should now happen since God hadn’t held up His part of the bargain I thought we had entered into, all wrapped up in a neat package called “What now?”

I was once again on the hunt, but everything I tried was spooked before I could even get my sights on it as I traipsed around in my mind. And then it happened. I sat on another stump and watched the fog once again roll in until I could no longer see anything, but it was then that the noises became defined. I could no longer move. I simply had to sit quietly until this fog lifted and I could once again proceed on my journey. But it was also in that moment that I heard God’s voice. He approached, just as the sound of that deer’s footfalls suddenly made their appearance and grew louder and clearer until I felt I could reach out and touch Him.

I still make too much noise. I walk too loudly and scrape through the bushes of life, announcing where I am. The stones I kick still rattle down the incline of life as I struggle to climb up. But I stop more now than I ever have, and I listen more. I find my voice is also still too loud while my whispering thoughts must sound like a prairie freight train rolling past God’s ears. So, he waits. He waits until I stop talking, stop walking with my purpose, stop stumbling around in my life so certain I know the path He has for me. That is when I can hear God give me the direction I so desperately need.

So He said, “Go forth and stand on the mountain before the Lord.” And behold, the Lord was passing by! And a great and strong wind was rending the mountains and breaking in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. 
After the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of a gentle Blowing.                                                          1 Kings 19:11-12 (NASB)

Just as Elijah found that God is not in the windstorm, the earthquake, or the fire, but He was in the quiet whisper meant for Elijah’s ears, so too, I have found myself back on that hillside from so long ago, wrapped in the silent white of God’s presence, listening to His voice as He draws ever closer to me. When I stop to listen, and when I write, I hear, and I realize I am the windstorm, the earthquake, and the fire.

Wally Pohlmann pastors a small-town church in northern British Columbia. He enjoys hunting, golf, motorcycles, and always has time to share a coffee.

Where Am I? - Marnie Pohlmann

Spot the deer

My husband was an active hunter when I married him, so I learned new things. I learned how to

-          safely handle and shoot a rifle, shotgun, and pistol without injuring myself.

-          hit the target I was aiming for even if it was moving.

-          know I was shooting at an animal that was legal to take at that time and in that place.

-          gut and skin a deer, though honestly, Wally always did that messy work for me

-          take care of the meat until it could be processed.

-          cook and eat what I shot.

Probably the two most important things I learned were how to

-          drive a standard gearshift truck, and

-          find my way back out of the bush we traveled.

I enjoy riding along with Wally as we explore the wild bush, letting him concentrate on keeping the truck from hitting trees or getting stuck in mud while I enjoy the autumn warmth, the beauty of wildflowers, and scout for animals. One day early in our explorations Wally mentioned that if something happened and he was hurt, I would need to know how to get back to civilization for help. He instructed me to turn around and look back the way we had come so I would recognize the way things looked. Trees and paths look different going toward them than they do when returning from them.

Know how to return to God

Since that day, I have made it a habit to look over my shoulder to see how a fork in the road or a landmark looks after I have passed it, so I can hopefully recognize the way I had traveled. As you may know from my post “Directionally Challenged” I do easily get lost. Maybe not really lost, but I often turn the wrong way from where I intend to go, so knowing how to get back to where I came from is a valuable skill.

It is easy to imagine how Moses and the children of Israel wandered for 40 years before arriving at the Promised Land. Shifting landscapes in the desert would make it difficult to recognize what direction they had already traveled, even when they did look behind. They were not supposed to look back or lust after their former life in Egypt but were to follow the cloud and fire pillars of God’s leading.

So, are we, as Christians today, supposed to look back or not?

David writes in Psalms 143:10 “May your gracious Spirit lead me forward on a firm footing.” The apostle Paul in Philippians 3:13-14 wrote “…forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead… I press on to reach the end…” The events of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, recounted in Genesis 19, are a warning to not look back, as when Lot’s wife looked back, she was turned into a pillar of salt.

Yet many times in Scripture stones were also piled or an altar built so when others came by or the builders looked back, they could see where God had worked in their lives. Looking back gave faith to continue, knowing God was in control. Looking back to see how far we’ve come helps us not be discouraged when we see we still have a long way to go.

In the parable of the Prodigal Son told by Jesus in Luke 15, the younger son finally realizes he has wandered so far away he is worse off than when he was at home. He makes his way back to his father. There are times we may realize we have wandered far off the path on which God was leading us. Looking back to the last time we were walking with God can help us see where and maybe when we turned in the wrong direction or off the path, so we can return to our Saviour’s side.

Adventures are not easy

Joshua reminded the children of Israel to obey everything Moses wrote, not turning to the left or the right. Isaiah confirmed that when we choose to follow God, we will hear his voice telling us the way we should go. When we are at a crossroads and are wondering what to do or which way to go, we can look back in our lives to the last time God gave us direction, and we can know with confidence that if he has not told us to turn in another direction we must continue on in the way he last directed us to go.

The answer to the question then,

-          no, believers should not look back, and

-          yes, believers may need to look back.

The only way we will know which we are to do at any given time is to familiarize ourselves God’s voice and pay attention to our surroundings. When we are aware of God's presence and his work going on around us, we can be confident God is leading as we journey into uncharted territory.

Our Christian lives are not likely to be safe and certainly should not be stagnant. Walking each day with God is an adventure, and adventures are best when unexpected, unknown paths present themselves before us to be explored. Yes, even the scary paths that lead through dark forests and valleys.

Taking words to uncharted territory

 Writers, I encourage you to not remain in the comfort of your past successes, but to step into new areas. Perhaps try writing in a new genre, or maybe take the leap from writing for yourself to sharing your writing with others, or perhaps it is time to speak, to share your message in person. Then the adventure of seeing God use your words will come alive!

I know there are things I still need to learn for an adventure that includes writing. I may be able to shoot, and I may be able to identify what to shoot towards, yet I still need to learn how to navigate the path God is leading me on so I don’t get side-tracked or take a wrong turn. Or if I do find myself lost, I need to be willing to repent, to return to where God last directed me.

In my writing and in my life in general, I am on an adventure with God that often leads me into uncharted territory.

Where are you?

*photos CCO license courtesy of Pixabay.com

Marnie Pohlmann journeys with God in Northern British Columbia. She knows God holds her hand, directs her steps, and smooths the way as she joins Him in adventures through uncharted territories in writing and life.

Read more about her adventures each month on this blog, and on her own blog, Phosphorescent.