When I was a child I had a fear of something that I don't think is so common. It wasn't monsters under my bed or something scary lurking in my closet after all the lights went out. The thing that struck terror in my six year old heart was when my mother would say, "We are going to a parade." Most kids would have leapt for joy at the thought of going to a parade to collect all the candy they could get their hands on. Not me. I would have rather gone to the doctor or the dentist than to sit and endure a parade. My older brother was in the middle school marching band and would often be called upon to be in parades on the weekends. My parents, especially my mother, loved going and hearing the music.

One particular incident had left me scarred. While attending a parade, a siren began to blare and men dressed in devil costumes jumped from a float and ran into the crowd and began to grab unsuspecting women. They had black faces with red suits and hoods. They would run up to women, smear black soot all over their faces and then go on to do this to someone else. I watched as one woman was chased right into her house as she screamed. I remember feeling so scared as I watched one woman try to escape, but three of these men held her against her will as she was struggling. This whole experience had a huge impact on my young mind. That same week, I was out playing in the backyard, and I heard a fire truck siren. I raced into my parents' home, fearful that those men were about to pull up in our driveway and get me. When it came time to go to another parade, I was not having anything to do with it. While my brother played in the parade, I sat in the car and refused to budge with every door locked and every window rolled up.

That same summer, my family was invited to a friend's home for a party and a small town celebration. Of course, the celebration was going to include a parade, and I was already experiencing anxiety. My mom assured me that I would not have to go as someone from our family would stay back and take care of me. Just before the parade began, my mom came to me and said that the daughter of the family we were visiting was willing to stay with me while everyone else attended the parade. Relieved, I agreed to that. The person whom my mother left me with paid no attention to me at all. She talked the whole time on the phone to her friends while I sat outside looking up the street where I had watched my mom, dad and siblings depart. That is when the lonely feeling began to descend upon me. After about a half hour, the young girl who was in charge of me, came outside and declared that she was going to the parade with her friends and asked if I wanted to go. I was a bit confused by this because my mom had made it perfectly clear that I was frightened of parades. I stated that I did not want to go, and she abruptly turned on her heel, said goodbye to me and left. Now, the churning in my stomach began. I was all alone.

I tried to make myself feel better by talking to the neighbor's dog, but he soon tired of me and went and laid on the stoop to nap. The whole street was quiet as if no one had stayed back from the parade but me. Suddenly, I had a very good idea. I decided that if I walked the way that I saw my parents go, I would find them. I began walking as the July sun beat down on me. As I walked, I began to rethink this plan as things were beginning to look unfamiliar and there were crowds and crowds of people milling about. I decided that I had better go back just to be safe. When I turned to go back, I found myself lost. I had no idea which way I had come or which way to go back. I decided to forge ahead and attempt to find my family.

Panic overtook me and I began to run. My six year old body could not take the heat and the exhaustion that surfaced from running. As I rested, I felt a tingling feeling on the tops of my feet. My open toed sandals were not equipped for sprinting, and I had scraped my toes to the point of bleeding. I recall walking through a congested area where there were so many people, that I could not even see. Everyone towered over me, and the sounds of the parade and the people were overwhelming. I was bleeding, sweating and lost. A police officer looked right at me and moved on. I was too scared to say anything, so I kept fighting my way through the people. I just wanted to find my family.

Why I turned down a particular street, I do not know. I began to run again. It was out of sheer fear that I ran because I had no idea where I was going. The parade had begun, and the noise was deafening. I was dirty from head to toe and tears streamed down my face as I saw the happy faces of other children eating ice cream, playing with balloons and sitting in the laps of their loved ones. The streets were lined with the entire population of that small town. Then, I heard it. I thought I heard it. My name. Chris. I stopped, and I heard it again. Chris. I looked to the back of me. I looked to the front and sides. I stood so still breathing so fast. Something caught my eye, and I glanced upward. In front of me there was a giant hill where people had spread their blankets out to get a good view of the parade. I saw someone waving their arms frantically back and forth. It was my dad! He was calling my name. He cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled it again. It was really him. With everything in me, I ran up that hill without stopping. Within minutes, I was drinking root beer and being asked one question after another by my mother who was not too pleased with the person she had left in charge. Always the nurse carrying her first aid kit, she had all my toes disinfected and bandaged in minutes.

My dad and I still wonder how I heard him call my name as I ran by. And, we are amazed at the fact that he happened to see me running through a crowd of countless people. He told me that he saw only my head, and he knew it was me. Something made him jump up and shout my name. Over the years as I have seen faces of children on the backs of milk cartons, I have wondered what would have become of me if I would have not heard him. I didn't fully understand the danger of my situation until I was a little older. I could have been snatched away without my family ever seeing me again. I believe God intervened that day and perked my ears to the sound of my dad's voice.

Just as hearing my dad's voice above that noise to find safety, it is imperative that Christians hear the voice of the Lord to help them. So, what stops us from hearing the voice of God? One reason may be that we, as adults, are so inhibited by what others will think about us, especially if we were to let them know that we follow the voice of God. We think that our friends, families or neighbors will turn us in at the local mental institution for admitting publicly that we hear the voice of God. I have found that this is not the case with young children. I teach music to preschoolers in daycare centers, and I have found that many of them are more tuned into God and what He has to say. At the beginning of each of my classes, I always sing a welcome song which includes the children touching their ears. On one occasion, I asked a room full of two year olds what they use their ears for. A very quiet, mild mannered little boy responded, "To hear what God is saying." There were a few snickers from the adult teachers, and I immediately saw a look of embarrassment come across his face. I leaned in close to him, smiled, and said, "Don't ever stop listening to what He has to say."

You see, we set ourselves up for all kinds of ridicule when we take that step of faith and actually say that we are being guided or led by the voice of the Lord. As a young Christian, I was so afraid to admit that to anyone. Yet, there was this persistent leading in me that would help me when I had to make a difficult decision. Or, when I prayed, I would have words of comfort run through my mind that I knew were not of me. However, to broadcast that I was hearing God speak, left me somewhat fearful and timid. Yet, if we are to be His, He will lead us and speak to us in a way that is similar to hearing a very distinct voice. The Bible is full of examples of men and women who heard the voice of the Lord and followed His instructions to the letter. If Noah hadn't listened, would the Ark have been waterproof? Would Moses have been able to lead the people through the wilderness? How would Mary have survived the virgin birth without the voice of God to assure her He was with her? If you read carefully, they were all subject to the general public and its ridicule, yet, somehow they accomplished great things for the Lord by hearing His voice and obeying no matter what.

God spoke to His people then, and He is speaking to His people now. In John 10:27, Jesus said this to help us understand: "My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow Me" (NLT).

Simply stated, we are to be like sheep that instantly respond to the call of their shepherd so that we are kept in safety and are taken care of.

Another example from the Bible regarding a person's ability to hear His voice is found in 1 Samuel chapter 3 where young Samuel has his first encounter with God. He is a bit confused by the voice and thinks that his master Eli is summoning him. He goes to Eli who in turn, sends him back to bed. After the third time of God calling Samuel's name, he is told by Eli to go lie down and say, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." When he does this, the Lord reveals things to him as he listens. Thus, he began his walk with God and hearing His voice.

For some time, I was like a lost little girl running through the streets in desperate search of My Heavenly Father. I did not feel Him near to me like I knew I could. One day, I resolved to take a walk and I began to speak to Him as I walked along. For days, even months, I heard nothing. If some trouble came my way, I always seemed to get an answer, but on a day to day basis, I did not feel as if I heard Him in all things. Part of the problem was that I was not listening enough. So, to show Him I meant business, I got up each day an hour earlier than I had been and began walking the dog and asking Him to talk to me. I recall the day so clearly when I began to hear Him speak to me. He used things around me to explain principles and the working of things I had not even considered before. One day in particular, I found myself under a beautiful tree ablaze with autumn colors of gold and red. I just stood there and in my mind the words resounded, "This tree is dying, but death can be beautiful." I had never thought of that before. I was facing a lot of changes in my life that felt like death. But, with His reassuring voice, I could face those things and know it would all work out for His Glory. He didn't make the problem go away, but hearing His voice brought me great peace.

In Proverbs 4:20-22 it reads:

My child, pay attention to what I say.
Listen carefully to my words.
Don't lose sight of them.
Let them penetrate deep into your heart,
for they bring life to those who find them,
and healing to the whole body.

Many voices are speaking to us. The TV calls to us, the computer commands our attention, and our bank account says all sorts of things. As we turn off all those other distractions, we tune into Him as the verse says above. And, when we do, a fulfilled life is promised. The Lord is speaking. Are you listening for your Father's voice?

Copyright © by Christine Prueher Share