Am I the only woman in America who isn’t either crushing on Blake Shelton or addicted to The Voice?
What if there was a bigger voice, one that can’t be heard by human ears, only the human spirit?
I asked my critique buddies if they’d ever heard God’s voice. Had God ever talked to them? One friend said she’d once heard an angel’s voice, warning her to run away from a scary situation. The others agreed they hadn’t heard God audibly.
I know I’ve heard God speak to me, and sometimes it sounds like my own voice. Other times it’s words in my mind, but I know that I know it isn’t me, especially when it’s telling me something I don’t want to hear.
Jane, you need to stop watching that show. Jane, you should apologize to that person for what you said.
Jane, stop gossiping and trashing that person’s reputation.
That’s the Voice (capital V). Sometimes The Voice brings a word of encouragement. Last week, it said this: Your son Bobby isn’t dead. He’s alive, and he’s with Me.
I think I kind of like that Voice.