A week ago my sister and I rented a 2007 movie, “August Rush,” the story of a newborn whose mother has been told he died at birth. After being raised in an orphanage, the boy runs away at the age of 11, looking for his parents.

Young Evan hears music in everything: rustling trees, rippling streams, honking horns, subway trains. He lands in the center of New York City but has no fear, finding joy in the many new sounds.

Befriending a boy who plays guitar in the park for donations, Evan follows him “home” to an abandoned old theater. Many orphans live together there under the questionable leadership of a Robin Williams character, Wizard, who lives off the money his young musicians bring to him. He’s a harmful father figure who sometimes abuses his young charges, but when he learns of Evan’s musical talent, he sees his own financial success.

One day Wizard and Evan (now stage-named August Rush) have a serious talk about the music around them. Evan says, “And only some of us can hear it?”

The irresponsible Wizard has a burst of wisdom and says, “Only some of us are listening.”

During the movie my mind jumped immediately from listening for music to listening for God. Many people say they’ve never heard God’s “voice”, even in their heads. They pray about problems but say the answers don’t come. Could it be, as Wizard puts it, that they aren’t listening?

What does it take to effectively listen to God? In my experience, 90% of successfully hearing him is being confident he’s going to say something. Bringing a request without expecting a response is like questioning a friend, then walking away before she answers. If we think, “Surely God won’t talk to li’l ole me,” then maybe he won’t.

I can also read the Bible (his words), yet fail to be in touch with him because I’m not eager to hear his opinion. Maybe we’re afraid he’ll say what we don’t want to hear, so we’d rather not listen. We need to first figure out if he is really relational one-on-one and then decide if we want that relationship. If we do, we can be confident this God of love will share himself with us.

I remember Jill Briscoe describing a time of family turmoil when God was leading her husband to take a pastorate in the States. Jill and her three children were deeply rooted in Britain and hadn’t heard the same message, so she went to God directly.

“If you want me to leave England, please let me know.” God’s definitive answer came in John 21:15:

“Feed my lambs.”

Jill heard him say, “Focus on caring for your children. You can do that in the States just as well as in England.”

And they moved.

Young Evan connected with music as a powerful language. But hearing from God trumps music any day, unless, of course, he uses music to communicate.

For me, though, hearing from God has always been music to my ears.

[Jesus] called out, “Whoever has ears to hear, let them hear.” (Luke 8:8b)

Everybody has a bad night once in a while, and last night was my turn. Worries and what-if’s kept me awake, and we all know that daytime problems grow into monsters during the night.

Although I looked up at the night sky through my headboard windows, the stars twinkling there didn’t calm my fears as they usually do. I tried to quote Scripture but couldn’t think of anything appropriate. Praying only re-listed the problems and brought me back to square one: heart-pounding anxiety.

I knew a measure of optimism would arrive with the dawn, so I kept checking the sky for light. When it finally came, a new concern took over: how was I going to get through a busy day without having a night’s sleep?

My college president said, “Never doubt in the dark what God has shown you in the light.” That sounds pretty good, except that apprehension gobbles up resolve like Pac Man gobbles up dots, and middle-of-the-night fears easily overwhelm spiritual logic.

It isn’t that I was doubting God’s sovereignty or his ability to protect my loved ones, answer my prayers or solve my problems. It’s that the small troubles had grown larger than common sense. During the night when I was awake, common sense had gone to sleep.

Now, as I’m writing this, it’s dark again, and another bedtime approaches. Although most nights bring sweet sleep, tonight I’m uneasy because of last night. A worry-wart frame of mind doesn’t testify to God’s sufficiency, though, and besides that, it’s no fun.

So I decided to be proactive and run to God in the daytime as preparation for the next bad night. The saints of old must have had trouble with nighttime fears too, because what I found in stories about them wobbling in their confidence was that God reminded them again and again of how he’d come through in their past. For example, he mentioned Pharaoh chasing them but “the sea engulfing their enemies.”

I personalized that, remembering victories in my own life when circumstances were bleak and God came through. I also latched onto some of his pertinent promises: “I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine!”*

God told me he was abiding in and around me, and that he was watching over me because I was more important to him than the animals he created. He reminded me I was his adopted daughter and encouraged me to call him “Abba”, Daddy. And he said, “I love you, and perfect love casts out fear.” **

Tonight I’m ready. I’m going to bed with a weapon under my pillow: printed Scripture verses that speak to my specific worries. It’ll be almost like having my head in God’s lap.

” Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.” (John 14:27)

* Isaiah 43:1    ** 1 John 4:18