Sometimes the Quiet Voice is a little too noisy - this writer does get carried away trying to explore avenues that are difficult to talk about. But every now and then, things become simple and clear. Such it was with an unexpected conversation on the phone last night that lasted until nearly 1:30 AM.
I have known this guy all my life, and at first we talked about local events, people we both knew and so on, but eventually - as always with me and long conversations - we got down to the supernatural. It was then that he told me a story that I had never heard.
When he was in his early teens, he got the impulse to become an altar boy at the local church. I had never thought much about it, except that it seemed odd for someone of his exuberant character to do so. But it was while in this capacity that he had the most startling experience. Walking into church before mass to help set up, he saw a blinding light over the altar, and then felt it as it filled him with a feeling of overwhelming love and peace. It was such a powerful experience that he decided then and there to become a priest. Again, if one knew this guy, this would be nearly impossible to conceive, for he had a special affinity for the opposite sex. But so one is often called - St Francis had been a pampered daddy's boy and lady's man; Father Loyola had been a professional soldier of considerable wrath, St Paul had persecuted Christians - and the list goes on. His calling would really have not been that unusual.
Two weeks later, however, he saw the "burning bush" again, again hovering over he altar, and this time it shocked and frightened him. From it emanated a sense of anger, and finally the unspoken words: "No! You are NOT meant to be a priest. Your use will be in other things."
Confused, he talked to the priest after mass about it. Surprisingly, the priest took it in a matter-of-fact, business as usual way: yes, he said, people often are visited by God; and yes, they often think that this is to tell them of their calling to the priesthood. But more often than not, it is not - that is a special calling in itself. Listen, he said, to what the voice says and follow its advise. And that was the end of it - no calls to the Pope, no special meetings about his vision. No, he found, this was usual and normal. His experience came as no surprise to the man who was in the business to know.
I came away with two general bits of information from this conversation. One - that the experience of God, or a god-like force is nothing unusual. I once read that slightly over 40% of Americans claim to have personally experienced this god-force, but the impact is greater when one hears a testimonial personally from someone who is well-know and is not a fanatic.
The other bit is this: that as trite as it might seem, many of us - maybe most or all of us - are on earth for a purpose, a purpose that is usually known only to this divine force. To this day, this friend does not know what his divine "use" is supposed to be. Perhaps he never will. But it is good to keep in mind that he, and most likely we, DO have a genuine, divinely- crafted purpose. I suppose the only way we can attempt to follow this is to act at our best - to do what our conscience tells us - and to listen for whatever might be there, waiting to guide us. I myself do not know what my purpose might be, and I suspect that I never will. But I am intent in trying to listen. A burning bush or two might help my resolve, but real-life stories such as this might just be enough. FK
I have known this guy all my life, and at first we talked about local events, people we both knew and so on, but eventually - as always with me and long conversations - we got down to the supernatural. It was then that he told me a story that I had never heard.
When he was in his early teens, he got the impulse to become an altar boy at the local church. I had never thought much about it, except that it seemed odd for someone of his exuberant character to do so. But it was while in this capacity that he had the most startling experience. Walking into church before mass to help set up, he saw a blinding light over the altar, and then felt it as it filled him with a feeling of overwhelming love and peace. It was such a powerful experience that he decided then and there to become a priest. Again, if one knew this guy, this would be nearly impossible to conceive, for he had a special affinity for the opposite sex. But so one is often called - St Francis had been a pampered daddy's boy and lady's man; Father Loyola had been a professional soldier of considerable wrath, St Paul had persecuted Christians - and the list goes on. His calling would really have not been that unusual.
Two weeks later, however, he saw the "burning bush" again, again hovering over he altar, and this time it shocked and frightened him. From it emanated a sense of anger, and finally the unspoken words: "No! You are NOT meant to be a priest. Your use will be in other things."
Confused, he talked to the priest after mass about it. Surprisingly, the priest took it in a matter-of-fact, business as usual way: yes, he said, people often are visited by God; and yes, they often think that this is to tell them of their calling to the priesthood. But more often than not, it is not - that is a special calling in itself. Listen, he said, to what the voice says and follow its advise. And that was the end of it - no calls to the Pope, no special meetings about his vision. No, he found, this was usual and normal. His experience came as no surprise to the man who was in the business to know.
I came away with two general bits of information from this conversation. One - that the experience of God, or a god-like force is nothing unusual. I once read that slightly over 40% of Americans claim to have personally experienced this god-force, but the impact is greater when one hears a testimonial personally from someone who is well-know and is not a fanatic.
The other bit is this: that as trite as it might seem, many of us - maybe most or all of us - are on earth for a purpose, a purpose that is usually known only to this divine force. To this day, this friend does not know what his divine "use" is supposed to be. Perhaps he never will. But it is good to keep in mind that he, and most likely we, DO have a genuine, divinely- crafted purpose. I suppose the only way we can attempt to follow this is to act at our best - to do what our conscience tells us - and to listen for whatever might be there, waiting to guide us. I myself do not know what my purpose might be, and I suspect that I never will. But I am intent in trying to listen. A burning bush or two might help my resolve, but real-life stories such as this might just be enough. FK
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