The two voices of the spiritual life
Homily for the 4th Sunday of Easter
The Good Shepherd walks ahead, and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice. (Jn 10:1-10)
One of the most important—and most difficult—questions in the spiritual life is this: How do I recognize the voice of God?
In today’s Gospel, Jesus gives us both comfort and challenge. He says, “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” The comfort is obvious: we have a Shepherd who knows us intimately. The challenge is equally clear: hearing that voice in a world overflowing with noise.
We live in a culture that is anything but quiet. The internet is loud. The news is loud. Our schedules are loud. Our children are loud. Even our own thoughts can be loud. And yet God speaks—as Elijah learned—not in the earthquake, not in the wind, not in the fire, but in a “still small voice.” No wonder we miss so much.
Scripture often uses the image of sheep and shepherds. We are the sheep; Jesus is the Shepherd. And I sometimes wonder why God didn’t choose a more impressive animal—an eagle, a lion, a stallion. Instead, He chose sheep. Sheep are not strong, not fast, not clever. They’re anxious about everything and prone to wandering.
In our worst moments, we’re like the sheep. Lost, confused, anxious, overwhelmed.
But sheep have one remarkable strength: They know the shepherd’s voice. In a field full of competing sounds, they can distinguish one voice and follow it. And just as importantly, they refuse to follow a stranger.
In our best moments, we’re like those sheep. We hear the Shepherd’s voice and follow it. And when we do, we find comfort, clarity, and peace, even when the path is difficult. We find ourselves led rather than driven.
The Real Struggle: Competing Voices
Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice.” Not might hear. Not occasionally hear. Hear. So the problem isn’t that God isn’t speaking. The problem is that we’re surrounded by competing voices.
Those voices fall into two camps: the voice of the Good Shepherd and the voice of the thief. The voice of the Good Sheherd could also be the voice of our angels, the Holy Spirit, sanctifying grace. The voice of the thief is our sinful habits, our pride, the broken world around us, and the enemies of God.
The voice of the Good Shepherd leads us toward consolation. The voice of the thief leads us toward desolation. It disturbs, confuses, accuses, and isolates.
The Shepherd’s voice sounds like an invitation: Come. Trust me. Take one step. You are enough because I am with you. It creates freedom, peace, and a sense of being known.
The thief’s voice often sounds like pressure: You have to. You’re not enough. Hurry up. Do more. Prove yourself. It creates anxiety and fear.
One voice shrinks the heart. The other expands it.
In spiritual direction, I often ask people a simple question: “Whose voice is that?” Because God’s voice is always consistent with His character—and His character is revealed in Jesus, the Good Shepherd. He does not drive the sheep with fear; He leads them with love.
A Story of Discernment
About a year ago, I was invited to teach at Divine Mercy University. At first, everything felt right. There was peace, clarity, even excitement. It felt like an invitation from God—what Ignatius would call consolation, a movement toward faith, hope, and love.
Then came the second class. New curriculum. New lead teacher. New expectations. Suddenly everything felt different. I felt unqualified, overwhelmed, technologically inept. I compared myself to others and came up short.
The voice in my head grew louder: You don’t belong here. You’re not good enough. You’ve taken on too much. Quit while you can. My wife even asked, “Are you sure this is what God wants you to do?”
But after some silence and prayer, something became clear: That harsh, accusing voice wasn’t coming from God.
God may challenge us—but He never demeans us. And beneath all the noise, another voice waited—quieter, steadier: You are enough. I have called you. Stay with me. Don’t be afraid. That sounded like the Good Shepherd.
Ignatius teaches that the enemy often attacks after a good decision has been made, trying to unravel it through discouragement. So the presence of struggle doesn’t mean we chose wrongly. Sometimes it means we chose exactly right.
Learning to Recognize God’s Voice
So how do we learn to recognize the Shepherd’s voice?
First, we slow down.
God’s voice rarely speaks in panic or urgency. The Shepherd doesn’t shout over the noise; He waits for us to quiet down.
Second, we look at the fruit.
Does this voice lead me toward trust, love, and peace—even if the path is hard? Or does it lead me into anxiety, shame, and isolation? If I follow this voice, what will be the fruit?
Third, we stay close to Jesus.
Sheep learn the shepherd’s voice by being with him—day after day, step after step. You don’t have to figure everything out at once. The Shepherd doesn’t stand far away shouting directions. He walks right in front of you saying, “Follow me.”
There is one more quality of sheep that we can practice: trust. The sheep trust the shepherd. The more you listen, the more you’ll recognize His voice. The more you recognize the voice, the more you learn to trust it.

