By Terry Lees
WE live in one of the noisiest periods in human history.
From our waking moment, our lives are filled with competing voices—news, social media, demands on our time, the constant hum of activity.
Our moments of rest are often filled with sound.
Yet each year Lent arrives with a quiet, insistent question: Are you truly listening?
Not merely hearing words or reciting prayers, but listening — deeply, attentively, with an open heart—for the voice of God who still speaks amid our busy lives.
Lent has always been associated with the desert.
In Scripture, the desert is not just a place of hardship, but a place of encounter.
It is where God speaks to the heart when distractions fall away.
Moses encountered God in the wilderness.
Elijah discovered that God was not in the storm or the fire, but in the “still, small voice.” Jesus himself withdrew into the desert to pray and listen before beginning his public ministry.
Lent invites us into that same interior space.
It calls us to step back from the noise — both around us and within us — to become attentive once more to God’s gentle presence.
God does not force God’s way into our lives, nor shout over the noise.
God waits patiently for us to become still enough to hear.
Too often, however, our prayer becomes one-sided.
We speak to God, ask for things, explain ourselves — yet do we allow space for God to speak to us?
True prayer is a relationship.
And every relationship depends upon listening.
There is an important difference between hearing and listening. Hearing is passive. Listening requires intention, openness and humility.
We can hear Scripture proclaimed at Mass and yet remain unchanged.
We can pray familiar prayers while our minds wander.
We can speak to God endlessly without ever pausing to listen for a response.
True listening involves the heart.
It requires a willingness to be shaped, challenged, and sometimes unsettled by what God is saying.
When Jesus says, “Whoever has ears ought to hear,” God is calling people not simply to listen to God’s words, but to allow those words to transform their lives.
Prayer, at its deepest level, is not about filling the silence with our words, but about allowing God space to speak.
Many people assume that God speaks only through dramatic moments or extraordinary experiences.
God most often speaks quietly and persistently through ordinary means.
God speaks through Scripture when we read it prayerfully.
God speaks through the liturgy and the rhythms of the Church year.
God speaks through our conscience, through the wisdom of others, and through the events of daily life.
Often, God speaks through silence itself.
Silence is not empty; it is attentive.
It is the posture of someone who trusts that God has something worth hearing.
Lent encourages us to create that space — by fasting not only from food, but from noise; by simplifying our lives; by slowing down enough to notice God’s presence where we might otherwise overlook it.
Silence can be uncomfortable.
In silence, distractions fade and deeper questions emerge.
We become aware of our fears, our restlessness, our desire to remain in control. Yet it is precisely there that God waits for us.
Silence is not emptiness; it is availability.
It is the posture of someone who trusts that God has something worth hearing.
Even a few minutes of intentional silence each day can reshape our prayer and sharpen our spiritual awareness.
Lent does not require us to withdraw from the world, but it does ask us to engage the world differently — to live less reactively and more reflectively, less noisily and more attentively.
Authentic listening to God never leaves us unchanged.
When we truly hear God’s voice, it draws us toward compassion, forgiveness, and love. It shapes how we treat others, how we make decisions, and how we live our faith in practical ways.
A Church that listens deeply to God becomes a Church that listens attentively to the world— especially to the poor, the wounded and the forgotten.
Lent prepares our hearts not only for Easter joy, but for renewed mission.
This Lent, let us resist the temptation to simply do more and instead choose to listen more.
To carve out small, sacred spaces of silence in our days—turning off the noise, slowing our pace, and opening our hearts with humility and trust.
Ask each day, “Lord, what are You saying to me—right here, right now?” And then wait. Listen. Trust.
God’s voice is not distant.
It is not reserved for the spiritually elite.
It is spoken gently, persistently, lovingly to all who are willing to hear. Lent reminds us that when we truly listen, we are changed.
And in that change, God prepares our hearts for resurrection life.
Have a golden day and treasure life.
