I finished How to Hear God recently. I’ve been sitting with it since.
It’s not what the title might suggest. It’s not a technique manual. Greig’s first move is to shift the question entirely: not “can I hear God clearly?” but “is God the kind of God who speaks?”
Once you’ve answered yes to that… things feel different.
You’re not trying to listen well enough to deserve an answer. You’re in a relationship with someone who is already trying to communicate.
As Greig puts it, “The question is not whether God is speaking, but whether we are listening.”
That reframe did something for me.
The Emmaus Road
The thread running through the book is the story of the Road to Emmaus.
Two people walking with Jesus… and not recognising him.
That’s the lens Greig uses for the whole question of hearing God. Not that God isn’t speaking… but that we often don’t recognise the voice, or the moment, or the way it’s happening.
It’s a slower story than I expected. Conversation. Confusion. Gradual recognition.
And then that line: “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road?”
Not certainty. Recognition, looking back.
I’ve felt that recently with house moves… first moving us to Pembrokeshire, and then where we are now. At the time, things just seemed to happen when they needed to. Looking back, it’s easier to see it as His timing.
That felt closer to reality than the idea of instant clarity.
The multi-channel idea
One of the best parts was the multi-channel framework.
Greig outlines the ways God speaks… through Scripture, through inner promptings, through prayer, through dreams and imagination, through other people, through circumstances.
And then the key move:
Discernment doesn’t sit in any one of those. It happens where they converge.
Not “did God say this?”
More “what is God saying across everything I’m seeing, sensing, and hearing?”
I’ve noticed that at times… waking up with a worship song in my head, then the daily reading landing on the same theme, and then something in a conversation later that day connecting to it. That kind of synchronicity.
Or as he puts it, “God’s guidance is more like a symphony than a solo.”
That feels more realistic. And slower. And a bit less controllable.
The Word and the pause
There’s a consistent return to Scripture running through it all.
Not as a separate channel… but as the grounding one. The place everything else gets tested against.
That connects into the ABC framework, which is probably the most practical part of the book:
- A — Aligned with Scripture
- B — Builds up, Christ-like in character
- C — Confirmed by others and circumstances
It’s simple enough to hold… but it forces a pause.
Feeling something strongly doesn’t make it final.
Or as Greig says, “Guidance that contradicts Scripture is never from God.”
Which isn’t always comfortable… but probably where the safety is.
Learning to listen
There’s also a thread about deliberate listening.
Creating space. Choosing quiet. Paying attention.
Not just waiting for something to happen… but actually making room for it.
That’s harder than it sounds.
Greig puts it simply: “We need to slow down in order to hear God.”
Anam cara
The section on anam cara, spiritual friendship, sat harder with me.
The idea that discernment isn’t meant to be done alone. That someone else is invited into that process. Not just to advise… but to help you see more clearly.
It’s compelling. And uncomfortable.
Part of it is not wanting to put that on someone else. But it’s also trust. There’s a real level of vulnerability in that kind of friendship.
Consistently opening that space to someone else is not something I naturally do.
But Greig doesn’t frame it as optional… and I think he’s right about that.
Silence
The closing section is about silence.
He makes a distinction I’ve been thinking about since: silence is not the same as absence.
Waiting isn’t just delay… it can be formative.
I’ve felt that recently stepping into a leadership role at the Bridge. I prayed and waited… and waited… and waited.
And then eventually, a dream… someone being impatient with me.
What else do you need?
Or as he puts it, “Silence is not God’s absence, but his invitation.”
The book doesn’t promise clarity. It invites trust.
Which sits in tension with everything before it… and is probably more honest for that.
What shifted
Reading it didn’t give me a method.
It shifted the direction a bit:
- From expecting certainty… to practising discernment
- From waiting for something dramatic… to learning to be attentive
- From treating this as a solo exercise… to understanding it as something shared
- From wanting immediate answers… to being in an ongoing relationship
I’m not sure I’ve fully moved on all of those.
But I know that’s the direction.