Finding Your Identity in Christ
The Voice Behind You: Learning to Listen When Life Gets Loud
By Ps Ron Kelly
“Your ears will hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’” — Isaiah 30:21
A Habit at 30,000 Feet
I travel a lot these days. That means I spend a lot of time sitting in airplanes.
I’ve developed a little habit. If the person next to me doesn’t have earbuds in or headphones on, I try to say something to them—just to see if God might be opening a door for a conversation. But if they don’t want to talk, I don’t push. I believe in Christ’s method alone. Jesus respected people’s right to not hear if they didn’t want to hear.
Last Sunday, just before we came here, my wife and I were on a tight schedule. We had flown into Charlotte, North Carolina, and needed to get home, then catch another flight to Australia just hours later. It was not a schedule I wanted—but it was the one I had.
And God often tests us in those moments.
The Hitchhiker at the Airport
As we sat on the plane, the two seats across from us filled. The gentleman across the aisle saw my wife reading her Bible. They exchanged a few words—nothing major. But we were about to have an encounter we didn’t see coming.
When we landed, I had four hours to drive 25 minutes home, 25 minutes back, and visit a church member who was afraid they might not be alive when I returned. Tight. Stressful.
As I was leaving the airport, I saw that same gentleman—the one from the plane—standing at the edge of the parking lot with his thumb out.
I don’t know if that’s the universal hitchhiking sign or not. But as I drove past him, I thought to myself: You need to stop.
I had no time. I would have gladly used my tight schedule as an excuse to ignore the Holy Spirit. But I stopped.
He jumped in. We started talking. It wasn’t far out of my way to drop him off. And in the course of the conversation, I discovered he was a very well-versed Jehovah’s Witness. He knew his Bible. He had strong views on the 144,000 and other things.
I listened. Then I asked him about the Sabbath.
He didn’t have a great response—theologically, we could have gone back and forth. But then he said something I’ll never forget:
“You know, when you help people in need… when you do things for others like you’re doing for me… that’s the real gospel ministry.”
He was right.
I dropped him off at a gas station in Buchanan, Michigan, and drove away knowing I had done what I was supposed to do.
Now, I’m not recommending that every encounter has to look like that. But I’d like to take us on a little journey tonight—into an elemental promise God wants us to claim.
A Promise for People Who Are Listening
Open your Bibles to Isaiah.
Isaiah chapter 30, verse 21:
“Your ears will hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it,’ whenever you turn to the right and whenever you turn to the left.”
When God was reconstituting His people after the flood, after Babel, after the chaos—He found an honest man named Abraham. Flawed. But God called him friend.
Why? Because Abraham was learning to listen.
I’ve pastored for a long time—large churches, small ones, camp meetings like this one. And I’ve learned something: the greatest education I’ve ever received isn’t from books or seminars.
It’s from life itself—if I’m paying attention.
The worst thing that could happen to us is to find ourselves inside an institution that claims to hold the truth, while our hearts grow calloused and hard—unable to hear the voice behind us saying, “This is the way. Walk in it.”
The Danger of Compartmentalizing God
I’ve always found it’s easier to compartmentalize my religion than to live it.
To separate my beliefs from my behavior. To ignore the Holy Spirit’s prompting, conviction, or restraint. And when we do that, something deforms in our witness for Christ.
In a large church, you see all kinds of people. Some are so full of the world that they have almost nothing left for God. Others are so intense—so dedicated in theory—that they’ve lost the joy of simply being a child of God.
Here’s what I’ve concluded: If Jesus isn’t Lord of all, He won’t end up being Lord of anything.
God chose Abraham because He knew Abraham would listen—and would reflect an accurate witness of God, at least most of the time.
So I have to ask myself—and I ask you:
How well are you listening? How well can you hear?
Elijah: The Prophet Who Ran the Wrong Way
Remember Elijah?
He stood on Mount Carmel. He prayed. Fire fell from heaven—pulverizing lightning and thunder that obliterated the sacrifice. Everybody knew who the real God was.
Then he ran 11 miles down the mountain, fell asleep at the city gate, and got woken up by a message from Jezebel: “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be dead.”
He ran another day or two into the wilderness. Then he laid down and said, “Lord, I’ve had enough. I want to die.”
God didn’t grant that prayer. He fed him. Twice. And with the energy of those two meals, Elijah walked 40 days in the wrong direction.
God empowered 40 days of going the wrong way.
When Elijah finally got to Mount Sinai, God came to him and said: “You’re in the wrong place. Come out to the mouth of the cave.”
There was wind. Fire. An earthquake. But none of those things arrested Elijah’s attention.
Then came the still small voice. And God asked him—twice—“What are you doing here, Elijah?”
The same question haunted him every day and every night on the way down.
Knowing Yourself So You Can Know God
Standing in my kitchen recently, I heard my daughter say something brilliant. I don’t know where she heard it, but whoever coined it did us all a favor:
“You can only know others as well as you know yourself.”
And the best way to know yourself is in a direct relationship with the God who created you—who knows every twist in the DNA of every cell in your body.
If you ignore that privilege—the pearl of great price, the living relationship with Jesus—you’re missing out on the only voice that can save you from yourself.
Here’s something I’ve learned the hard way: Everybody’s strength is a weakness when it’s unchecked.
Growing up, my mother was a “don’t mess around with me” kind of parent. “I’ll tell you once, I’ll tell you twice, but I’m not telling you again.” That meant we moved quickly from words to consequences. I learned to obey. That was valuable.
But when Jesus entered my heart, I suddenly had a higher authority. And fortunately, someone taught me to read my Bible and pray.
Those two things are the pillars of my life to this very day.
The Covenant Promise: “If My People…”
Let’s look at 2 Chronicles 7.
Solomon has just dedicated the temple. God appears to him and says:
“If I shut up the heavens so that there is no rain, or if I command locust to devour the land, or if I send pestilence among my people, and if My people who are called by My name will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, forgive their sin, and heal their land.”
We’re not a theocratic nation like Israel was. But this promise is written for us—individually and as a church.
Notice the word “if.”
God’s love for us is unconditional. But in a covenant relationship, He places conditions to protect the relationship.
If you’re too busy for that relationship, you’re missing out on the most glorious privilege in the universe.
So let me ask you plainly, at the beginning of this Sabbath:
How prioritized is your personal schedule to encounter the living God? What are the weeds choking it out? What competitors do you love more than Jesus?
Idols We Won’t Name
I once heard a pastor say: “I used to get the newspaper, and the first place I turned was the sports section. I realized it was an idol in my life.”
I have never—not once—had someone say to me, “You’re right, Pastor. That’s an idol.”
We protect our idols. We put them on pedestals. They’re usually expensive. We’re willing to pay the price. And when someone gets close to them—like Gideon toppling the idol in his town—people get ugly.
In the parable of the sower, the seed fell on all kinds of soil. But very little of it produced fruit.
The devil’s goal is simple: separate you from God. He’ll either sweep the seed away, let it fall on stony ground, or choke it out with something that seems good.
The Bad News (and the Good News)
Here’s the bad news: many of the discoveries we make about ourselves are not pleasant.
We don’t like what we see.
And one of the best ways we discover ourselves is in our relationships—especially the close ones. Your spouse. Your kids. Your church family.
If nobody can say anything to you—if the last person you listen to is your spouse—you’re in deep trouble.
About 20 years ago, I went through a painful experience with my job. I became bitter. One night, on vacation with my father-in-law, we got into a conversation that didn’t go well. I got up, walked out of the lodge, and my wife followed me.
We talked for a bit. Then she said something I’ll never forget:
“You sound bitter.”
The arrow shot by God—through her—went right into my heart and lodged where it needed to be.
I was on my knees the next morning praying, “Lord, take this bitterness from me.”
If we’re going to hear the voice behind us saying, “This is the way,” we need relationships—with God and with others—that can break through when we need wrong ideas broken up.
Most of our life should be affirmation, not critique. But honest critique from someone who is typically full of love and grace? That’s some of the most potent medicine for spiritual growth that exists.
Grace First. Always.
Do you understand what Jesus did?
He came full of grace and truth—not full of truth and grace.
The order matters. You cannot bear to hear the truth until you’ve experienced grace.
Humanity has an existential doubt problem. A fear problem. An insecurity problem. Jesus spoke grace first—so people could actually hear the truth.
Until you understand how much you’re loved, the truth just hurts too much.
Humility: Pride Doesn’t Die That Easy
There’s a wonderful allegory called Hinds’ Feet on High Places—about a character named Much Afraid who wants to escape her family, the Fearings, and reach the high places.
At one point, she’s cornered on a precipice by her relatives. One of them is named Pride. She calls out to the Good Shepherd. He comes, grabs Pride, and throws him off the cliff.
Much Afraid looks over the edge and asks, “Is he dead?”
The Good Shepherd says: “No. Pride doesn’t die that easy.”
If there’s one thing that will keep us out of the circle of blessing—both with God and with others—it’s the unwillingness to humble ourselves and say:
“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I have a problem.”
No one walks through the pearly gates who hasn’t had Peter’s experience—a repentance that deepens their whole life.
The Hardest Testing Truth
I’ve baptized a lot of people over the years. But do you know what the hardest testing truth is?
It’s not losing your job over the Sabbath. It’s not the state of the dead or the sanctuary or the Spirit of Prophecy.
The hardest testing truth is when God holds the mirror up in front of you and asks:
“Do you see what I see?”
But here’s the good news: He never shows you more than you can bear.
An Invitation to Renew the Covenant
God is seeking to renew the covenant with each one of us tonight.
Most of us are like Jacob—confused, wrestling with God. And God, in His goodness, doesn’t debilitate us. But toward the break of day, He touched Jacob’s hip so Jacob would know who he was wrestling with.
And Jacob said: “I’m not letting go until I know everything’s okay—whether I live or die.”
God has invited you into the greatest privilege of any living being in the history of the universe.
There will never be another great controversy. This is it. And God is inviting you into a living relationship where you can become the most beautiful, fragrant person on the planet—and where your church can become the most harmonious, missionally unified family imaginable.
But He won’t force you.
So tonight—at the beginning of this camp meeting—let’s renew our commitment.
Like Samuel, let’s say:
“Speak, Lord. Your servant is listening.”
A Final Word
I don’t know everything God wants me to do. After I lost my job last year, I was offered some high-profile positions. Everything inside me wanted to take them—to lift the scarlet letter off my name.
But God said: “No, Ron. That’s not what you’re called to do.”
So I’m walking through the valley of waiting—wondering, trusting. I’m not out of it yet. Neither are you.
Sometimes the valley is deeper and darker than you expect. But God doesn’t hold you in the refining fire forever. He takes the dross off. He leaves something beautiful.
So no matter what fears, stresses, or pains are in your past—enter into a posture of readiness.
You’ll hear a voice behind you, saying:
“This is the way. Walk in it.”
Or sometimes:
“This is not the way. What are you doing walking in it?”
Thank God for the friends—like my wife—who are brave enough to tell us the truth.
The most humble people in the world can also be the most courageous. Because it’s not about them. And they have peace in their hearts.
So let’s renew the covenant tonight. Let the refreshing of His love fall on your life. Let the truth fill you up.
And when God speaks—whether it’s complimentary or not—let’s listen.
Speak, Lord. Your servants are listening.
Amen.