THE FIRST TIME I HEARD GOD ’ S VOICE
Greg Pruett
The first time God spoke to me , I was sitting inside a dark storage cabinet . Hear me out on this ; don ’ t judge me .
I found it nearly impossible to get alone back at Texas A & M University in 1987 . Twenty-four hours a day , my roommate played records by the drug culture band the Moody Blues . He also slept with a throwing knife in his hand , which kept me on edge . So to pray , I would slip over to the All Faiths Chapel , a church-like , glass structure that most students rigorously avoided . The decision to seek God in that quiet place of prayer changed everything for me .
One day while on my knees in the chapel trying to connect with God , even in the stillness of that austere place of worship , something about praying with a few people walking around felt a bit too public for me to concentrate . I attended InterVarsity Christian Fellowship at the time , which had a cabinet in the back of the chapel used for storing Bibles , hymnals , and boxes of the Gospel of John suitable for mass distribution . The cabinet stood just a foot and a half off the ground , built into a wall . Back then , people talked about going into your “ prayer closet .” So one day , feeling the intense need to get alone with God , I climbed up into that cabinet , sat down on a box , and deftly pulled the door closed without smashing my fingers .
Delicious darkness swallowed me . I remember the smooth , dusty feel of cardboard boxes all around and the reassuringly religious smell of musty hymnals . I reveled in the quiet hour I spent there , the supreme silence you find only in an isolated closet inside a ghostlystill chapel . I knew right away I had found my prayer place . I often passed a blissful hour pouring out my soul before God ’ s throne , right there in the dark of that cabinet .
It felt heavenly . . . except on those rare
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