Still Remembering My Daddy's Voice

For as long as I can remember, I've been fascinated with Scriptures about the voice of God.  I like the notion that God speaks to His own.

In Genesis He merely spoke and the world began. Psalm 29 tells of a voice full of majesty; it breaks, divides and shakes creation. It causes the deer to give birth.  And yet, in John 10, there is detail of a voice so intimate that sheep hear, listen, and follow. 

In my tender years I realized my need for the Savior. My parents and extended family introduced the Scriptures to me. They taught me to pray. They were gentle channels of God’s grace.  Believing and trusting in the Savior came easy because of their faithfulness. They taught me that God wants a relationship with all people. He want us for His own. They taught that God speaks to us and He wants us to listen. He wants to be heard.  

Of course, my tender years have long flown. Yet my need for the Savior increases. I’m still fascinated with the voice of God. And, I still like the notion that God speaks to His own.

So when reading scriptures like John 16:33, I imagine sitting among the disciples when Jesus tells them why it’s important to listen to His words. It's for our own good. We are a troubled people, living among other troubled people, in a very troubled world. So I think He speaks to us for the sake of our peace and for the peace of those among us. 

Many years ago, my daddy took sick. The phone call with the dreaded medical report came to my house. I remained by the wall mounted land line telephone and asked God who I should call to help us pray. Our family knew many who believed in the power of prayer. Many who loved us dearly.  But while no face or phone number lighted on my brain, a gentle call me came swiftly to mind. With the phone still in my hand, I chuckled.  The timely thought was not my own. It brought great peace.

Daddy died two years later. Our family celebrated his life as one that honored God.  We believed we would see him again in heaven. Even still, life without my daddy was sad. I felt so vulnerable in those early months after his death.    

One night during that troubled time, I awoke suddenly to an audible, but gentle and familiar voice saying my name.  

“Ah . . . that was Daddy!”  I laughed then settled right back into slumber. Awaking once more in the dawn's light, I remembered the voice. I still remember it even though I’ve yet to hear it again.

Some might question if I really heard my daddy’s voice. It was a bit out of the ordinary.  However, when I search and ponder the Scriptures, I find a sovereign God whose voice is however He deems and chooses. I’m so glad and grateful He allowed me to hear my daddy’s voice. I sure did need it.   

My Daddy and Me in 1983. 

A few years ago, my husband and I suddenly learned of a sensitive matter that disturbed the peace of our family like nothing we've ever known.  And so, once more, in the wee hours of yet another troubled time, I emerged from under the covers for a trip to the kitchen and bathroom.  Returning to bed, a thought not of my own quickened me.  I will keep you in perfect peace. Keep your mind on me. 

I nestled back under the covers to bask in the sweetness of knowing a God who sees my pain and cares enough to whisper such a thought to me. I sure did need it.  Later I searched for the origin of the thought.  I found it in Isaiah 26:3.

And so, as my need for the Savior increases, my fascination with the voice of God continues. I hear it through out the Scriptures. I hear it in thoughts that aren't my own. I even once heard it sound just like my daddy.

I'm learning that when God speaks, He speaks with a voice all His own.  And, His own hear Him.

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A similar piece entitled My Daddy's Voice, first appeared in the April 2017 edition of  Refresh Magazine, a publication of Lighthouse Bible Studies, LLC.  Today's post is in memory of my daddy. He died on July 28, 1999, and I'm still remembering his voice.