Reflection: Listening For The Voice Of God

Fr. Eseese 'Ace' Tui • July 31, 2026

Brief Background:

St. Ignatius of Loyola (1491–1556) was a Spanish soldier whose life changed after a cannonball shattered his leg in battle. During his long recovery, he read the lives of Christ and the saints, experienced a profound conversion, and dedicated his life entirely to God. He later founded the Society of Jesus (Jesuits), emphasizing discernment, education, missionary work, and finding God in all things. His Spiritual Exercises remain one of the most influential guides to prayer and discernment in the Catholic Church.


St. Ignatius is the patron saint of piritual retreats, spiritual discernment, soldiers, educators, the Jesuits, and the Basque Country. His feast day is July 31.


REFLECTION:


When I was in graduate seminary, I was walking back to my room from the library—yes, I actually went to the library! As I was heading back, another seminarian was walking toward the residence. I could tell immediately that something wasn't right. He looked frustrated. So I stopped him and asked, "What's wrong?"


He sighed and said, "I just came from my formation meeting, and I didn't get a good evaluation. They're telling me I have to work on this and that, and I don't want to. I told them I listen to God."


I thought about it for a moment and then said, "Well, if we really believe that God places people in our lives for a reason, and that He has entrusted our formation to those in authority, wouldn't it make sense that God would also work through them to help us grow?"


He didn't like my answer. He simply replied, "I'll go pray to God about that," and walked away. I've never forgotten that conversation. Sometimes we say we want to hear God's voice, but only if He says what we want to hear. That is exactly what happens in today's readings.


God sends Jeremiah with a message of repentance, but the priests and the people don't want correction. Instead of asking whether Jeremiah is speaking God's truth, they decide they want to silence him.


Then, in the Gospel, Jesus returns to His hometown. The people are amazed by His wisdom, but their amazement quickly turns into rejection. "Isn't this the carpenter's son?" they ask. They knew His family. They watched Him grow up. Their familiarity became an obstacle to faith.


Both readings remind us that God often speaks through people we least expect—or perhaps through the very people we would rather ignore.


One of the hardest spiritual lessons is realizing that God doesn't always speak directly into our hearts. More often than not, He speaks through parents, spouses, friends, teachers, pastors, supervisors, spiritual directors, and even those who lovingly challenge us.


That doesn't mean every criticism is inspired by God. People can be wrong. But humility asks a different question. Instead of immediately becoming defensive, humility asks, "Lord, are You trying to teach me something through this person?"


St. Ignatius of Loyola built his entire spirituality around that question. Through discernment, he taught us to look for God's action in everything—not just in moments of prayer, but in conversations, relationships, successes, failures, and even correction.


One of his most beautiful prayers says: "Take, Lord, receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will." Notice what Ignatius offers to God: not only his strengths, but even his own understanding. He knows that God's wisdom is greater than his own. Perhaps that's why one of the greatest signs of spiritual maturity is not simply hearing God in prayer, but recognizing His voice when it comes through another person.


Today, let us ask ourselves: am I open to correction? Do I dismiss people too quickly because I don't like what they are saying? Could God be speaking to me through someone I least expect?


May we have the humility of St. Ignatius, who learned that God's voice is not confined to extraordinary visions, but is often heard in the ordinary people God places in our lives.


Because sometimes the answer to our prayers comes not as a whisper from heaven, but as a conversation with someone walking beside us.