Listening to My God Voice
The conversations about god are changing. I'm noticing that people are reconnecting with a genderless inside presence and calling them god.
People are searching for an antidote to the toxicity we face at the end of this capitalist, patriarchal era. We are no longer convinced by what the man in charge, the banks, conventional religion, and the media are saying and are looking for something that feels more hopeful and less exhausting.
I don’t think I’m the only one on a journey to find the most honest version of myself. It takes some gulps of loneliness and a squaring of shoulders, but the release that happens when I find vulnerability is worth it. And the more I examine the shadows, the more I understand the light. I’ve also become aware of an ongoing conversation I didn’t hear very well before because of all the noise. There have been names and explanations ranging from ‘higher self’ to ‘spidey sense’, but it could just as easily be called god.
God isn’t a new concept, but a god that is a part of us, not a separate entity, isn’t male, and with a lowercase ‘g’ is.
Elizabeth Gilbert suggests that the gentle, loving way we might speak to and care for our inner child is actually god speaking—nothing resembling the fire and brimstone, punishment and damnation from the god version of old. The relationship she has deepened with this inside source of love and care enables all sorts of peace and balance in her life. It also helps her relax while waiting for ‘the next right thing’ she is called to do.
I recently read a book called Holy Woman by Louise Omer, which examines the inherent patriarchy in religion. When her own faith failed her after dedicating her teens and early twenties to it, she sets off on a journey around the globe searching for explanations as to why this god concept should be male. She also looks for the goddess and the feminine she knows must be somewhere in this story of us. Her exploring takes her to some unexpected places, including meeting women who have been pivotal in changing the course of their religion they didn’t want to forgo in the name of feminism. Rather than a divergent decision, they tried to find the intersectionality of their faith and gender and then put a flag in the ground to mark their identity.
A young film producer I met at a pride event recently based his postgraduate project on his experience of making peace between his church-based faith and being gay. He didn’t want to give up god, so he found a version of god that didn’t give up on him. Open queerness has been weaving itself with religion for a while now. Still, it strikes me that the relationship must be soft to succeed, and I think it’s more likely with the self-loving voice on the inside, not a judgemental, punishing father on the outside.
Another aspect I am noticing is how highly personalised the conversation is, so much so that it feels like a clear, knowing part of myself speaking to a hurt, less clear part of myself. When I’m quiet enough, mostly when I meditate or do meditative activities, which could be called prayer or service in another language, is when this dialogue is most apparent.
I flirted with Christianity (I’m not sure why it needs an uppercase ‘c’) in my teens and then, for years afterwards, felt significant shame about that. That intensified when I divulged the secret to a lover a decade later, and they replied, “god, you must have been desperate.” It was probably the desperation I was most ashamed about, but also a little for trying to believe in a man in the sky. I think my family giggled behind my back about it, too…more shame…I clearly wasn’t communing with the right god. There is a distinct absence of shame in my spiritual life now, and if it is present, I know I have drifted away from my knowing; shame is a red flag, not a self-belief anymore.
Nadia Bolz-Weber is a Lutheran pastor and writes the Substack newsletter, The Corners. She has a podcast called The Confessional and has written New York Times bestsellers that, while I haven’t read them yet, seem intent on arriving you at your own forgiveness, which is the only type of forgiveness I truly believe in. Her work seems rooted in a more modern version of god, but she spells hers with an upper case ‘G’.
I write and speak about my personal failings, addiction, grace, faith, and really whatever the hell else I want to…I always sit in the corner with the other weirdoes…So here’s what I hope: that what is posted here is water, God willing, for those planted in the corners.
I had to look up what a Lutheran pastor was.
Their duties include preaching sermons to their congregation, organising charitable activities and church events and meeting with members of their congregation to help them strengthen their faith or overcome significant life changes.
Lutheranism is a major branch of Protestantism, identifying primarily with the theology of Martin Luther, the 16th-century German monk and reformer whose efforts to reform the theology and practices of the Catholic Church launched the Protestant Reformation.
Bolz-Weber is part of an essential movement helping return us to our spiritual selves and a relationship with a god of our own understanding. She is doing it with a modern twist that has nothing to do with spa retreats and everything to do with self-compassion, honesty, vulnerability and community.
I have a Catholic godson, but I am not Catholic, and I take great delight in this because I feel like I’ve infiltrated a rule-bound place and broken the rules, which I’ve made a career out of. His mother is one of my best friends, and I love how much she loves Catholicism. When I could finally let go of my judgement and observe the serenity she derives from the communion, it helped me realise that god appears to each of us in a uniquely personalised way.
She also loves the rituals, and I am becoming aware of the importance of these in spiritual practices of all forms. There is something about them that helps fast-track us back to the conversation with god pretty much precisely where we left off. They shake the monkey off the mind so we can access the now and the nothingness1 quickly (mostly). My rituals include writing pages, tea, wordle, spelling bee, meditation, stretching and yoga every morning. For her, it’s knowing that wherever she attends a catholic service, it will be the same one being delivered the world over. Something I didn’t know until recently, and it fascinates me. She also walks and does yoga religiously…ritualistically.
Two-way prayer is one of Liz Gilbert’s morning rituals, a two-way conversation with her god, which isn’t about throwing her voice into a canyon where it echoes lonely. It is about asking questions and receiving answers, and she often accesses this through writing because the reply and guidance seem less encumbered by the pen than by her mind. She admits that she “…wakes up mentally ill every morning,” and her rituals bring her back to her sanity.
A few days ago, I heard a very clear voice that said, “Pick up your bag.” I was drinking coffee in a cafe courtyard, and a woman with strange energy had just sat beside me; she had nothing with her and hadn’t ordered anything. There was no one else around. The voice came from inside, and I could call it my wiser self or my intuition, or I could call it god.
I have found it easier to hear this voice since spending much time alone and in solitude. Elizabeth Gilbert believes solitude is essential for deepening your relationship with this higher self and recommends that everyone make space for it during their lives. In my experience, it also fortifies you against the judgements of others because you discover how much aloneness isn’t something to fear, and therefore, rejection loses its power.
What we probably do agree on is that the world is a tricky place to navigate these days. We seem to be in endless cycles of war, poverty, destruction, disempowerment, disembodiment, and malaise. The relationship I am developing with my inner knowing, my inside god, is lifting me out of the desperation of these things - this is all the evidence I need.
Nothingness, for me, is being present to the moment that exists right now and is akin to the Buddhist concept of emptiness. It is free from the monkey mind and frivolous thought.
I had to give up my grandmother's God to define God for myself.