What happens when your spirit responds to God before your mind can explain it? This is a journey of learning to listen, discern, and trust beyond understanding.
Have you ever felt something deeply before you could explain it?
This past Good Friday, I experienced something that changed the way I understand my relationship with God. It wasn’t something I figured out with my mind… it was something my spirit recognized first.
In the days leading up to it, I had been in a season of fasting. Not out of strict rules, but through a real, ongoing conversation with the Holy Spirit. It wasn’t distant or formal… it felt personal.
Each day followed a pattern: I would spend time in service, prayer, and seeking God first. Only after that would I even consider eating… and even then, I would ask.
On Maundy Thursday, after consistent prayer and service, I asked:
“Holy Spirit, may I eat an ice cream sandwich?”
He responded,
“Alright, but tomorrow for Good Friday, you must abstain from food except water.”
After I finished my time with Him, I ate. But afterward, I felt a sense of guilt. It made me pause.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
And He replied,
“Do not worry. You have my permission.”
That moment stayed with me. His voice wasn’t condemning… it was gentle and reassuring.
Normally, whenever I eat something cold… especially something like ice cream on an empty stomach… my stomach would hurt. That’s why I usually try to avoid it. But in this moment, it was different. I didn’t want a full meal. I only wanted a little… just an ice cream sandwich.
Surprisingly, my stomach didn’t hurt at all. There was no discomfort like I would normally expect. Instead, my stomach simply continued to grumble for days, even after eating it. But it wasn’t painful… it was just a reminder that something deeper was happening.
It felt less like physical hunger and more like my body was adjusting, while my spirit remained steady and sustained.
The next day, Good Friday, I again spent time in prayer and service first. After that, I sat down for Bible reading and prayer. But this time, something shifted. The atmosphere felt different. I wasn’t just reading… I was fully aware of His presence.
Before I could even begin reading Moses’ message, something unexpected happened.
A wave of warmth rushed through my body. Then chills. Then a sensation like electricity. It was overwhelming.
And suddenly, I started crying.
Not slowly… instantly.
Deep, heavy tears. And I didn’t even understand why.
So I asked,
“Holy Spirit, what is happening? Why am I crying?”
He responded,
“I am grieving. Let the tears flow.”
Then He said,
“The time you will understand once you read Moses’ message.”
“Your spirit is seeing the truth before your mind does.”
He did not explain it to me directly, but His words revealed something deeper… that there is a connection between my spirit and the Holy Spirit, and that the Spirit of God dwells within His followers.
So I began to read.
As I started reading Moses’ message to the people, the tears became even heavier. I could barely see the words clearly. My vision was blurred, and I couldn’t fully process what I was reading… but something deep inside me was reacting.
It was as if my spirit already understood what my mind could not yet grasp.
As I continued, I began to sense the weight of it… the way Moses, as God’s servant, gave everything to lead the people of Israel.
The burden, the obedience, the responsibility.
Then I reached another part of his message… about God’s effort to save His people, bringing them out of Egypt and leading them toward the promised land.
And I cried even more.
It wasn’t just emotion… it felt like I was experiencing the depth of it before I could explain it.
The sacrifice, the patience, the love, and even the grief.
Only later did my mind begin to catch up.
But in that moment, it was clear: my spirit had already seen the truth before I could understand it.
Then came Holy Saturday.
Once again, I spent time in prayer and seeking God first. By now, the fasting felt deeper than physical… it felt spiritual.
After that time, I asked:
“Holy Spirit, should I eat right now?”
After a pause. Then I said,
“I’ll wait until You release me.”
And He responded,
“Thank you, my child.”
Even though my body felt hunger, my spirit felt something stronger… a quiet pull to continue.
It felt like two voices:
- One from my body saying, eat.
- Another from my spirit saying, stay with me.
And I chose to follow the Spirit.
What Happens When You Begin to Hear God Personally?
I want to share something honestly.
I have come to recognize that I can hear the voice of God. It has been more than a year now, and throughout that time, The Holy Spirit has been guiding me and teaching me how to discern every spirit I hear, along with recognizing true conviction.
It hasn’t always been easy. Sometimes it challenges my pride. Sometimes it corrects me in ways that are uncomfortable. But with that correction always comes comfort and transformation… if I choose not to let my emotions take control.
I’ve learned that not every emotion should lead decisions. Instead, I’ve had to learn how to pause, discern, and listen more carefully.
Part of this journey is connected to how I grew up. Looking back, as a child, I hear noises and the many voices around me (it’s like two voices of good and evil you see in cartoons) made me shut down my emotions to cope…. almost like I was smiling on the outside, but empty on the inside.
I became very observant, not because I wanted to be, but because it felt necessary for survival, in an environment where condemnation and judging by appearances felt normal.
Now, I can see how even that shaped me for this season.
Where I once suppressed emotions, I am now learning how to discern them.
Where I once felt empty, I am now learning how to be filled… with truth, and peace.
And through it all, God is teaching me the difference between emotion, the patterns of this world (flesh), conviction, and His voice.
Who this will resonate with… and who it may not
For those who are spiritually sensitive, especially within the believers of God, this may resonate deeply. For others, maybe it simply creates curiosity. And for some, it may be hard to believe at all.
And that’s okay.
Belief is a personal choice.
No one can force someone else to understand or accept this kind of experience. Each person has their own journey, their own timing, and their own openness to God.
Because this kind of relationship with God is not limited. If you seek Him sincerely, if you learn to be still and listen, you can begin to recognize His voice too.
Even recently, I found myself asking for something simple:
“God, I want it to rain hard tomorrow.”
The next day, it did. The rain came down heavier than I expected.
It wasn’t just about the rain… it was a reminder. That He listens. That He responds. Not always in the way we expect, and not always on our timing, but in ways that draw us closer to trust Him more.
There was another moment that stayed with me.
One time, it was raining hard, and my mom and I didn’t have an umbrella. We needed to get into an auditorium, and the rain was pouring heavily.
So I humbly asked,
“Lord, can you please stop the rain.”
And it did.
The rain suddenly stopped just long enough for us to walk inside.
My mom looked at me and said,
“The Lord made it stop.”
And as soon as we got into the auditorium, the rain started pouring down again.
There was another case.
On Sunday morning, as soon as I woke up, I heard a whisper:
“Inform Rowena, ‘watch out for anomalies’.”
Although the individual lives in another country, I informed them of the message. The following day, a major earthquake struck the region after a storm. Then another storm followed … one disaster after another. I later learned about these events through my colleagues.
At the time, I did not take the message seriously. However, the nudge I felt seemed urgent, and I believed there was no time to test or discern it beforehand. Later, through prayer and discernment, I came to believe that the message had come from the Holy Spirit. For me, the significance of the experience did not depend on whether others believed it.
God is present in every moment
A reminder that God is not only present in big, life-changing moments, but also in the small, everyday situations we might overlook.
Sometimes, it’s in those simple moments that you begin to recognize… He is listening, He is talking.
Since that Good Friday, I was no longer relying only on my mind, logic, or understanding to experience God.
Now, when I feel that warmth…
When tears come without explanation…
I don’t rush to analyze it.
Instead, I lean in, listen and be still.
Because I’ve learned this truth: my mind may take time to understand, but my spirit often already knows when God is near.
And maybe you’ve felt something like that too.
A moment you couldn’t explain.
A feeling that didn’t make sense at first.
A sudden peace… or sensation that feels powerful.
What if that wasn’t confusion?
What if that was your spirit recognizing truth before your mind could?
“Our flesh sees what surrounds us,
but our spirit sees beyond.”
REFLECTION
If there is one thing this journey has taught me, it is this:
God is not distant. He is present, speaking, guiding, and revealing… often in ways we don’t immediately understand.
Sometimes our spirit will recognize Him before our mind does.
Sometimes the tears will come before the meaning.
Sometimes the obedience will come before the explanation.
But if you are willing to stay, to listen, and to discern… you will begin to see.
Not all at once, but over time.
Our obedience to Him means abiding in His will, even when it leads us away from our comfort... that is surrender.
Even when we feel uncertain about our future, and even when we find ourselves questioning His commands, we are still called to trust Him.
It is a form of intimacy with God through Christ, be led by the Holy Spirit. There is peace that comes after surrender… a permanent peace.
If we allow ourselves to surrender, transformation begins.
And when you do, you may realize that He was speaking all along… you were just learning how to hear.
Note: The transformation that follows surrendering to Christ is a consistent, lifelong process of sanctification rather than an immediate, static change.