I enter the gym and immediately, I am met by the most uninspiring of environments—a ginormous room filled with the echoes of clanging weights and whirring cardio machines, the smell of mingling sweat and disinfectant, and my reflection as I pass by a wall of mirrors. I look tired, but I’m here.

I put my things away in the locker room, fill up my water bottle, and head toward my machine of choice—it’s the elliptical today. I can tell my body is craving some cardio. So, I get everything set, put in my headphones {which are still attached to my phone with an old fashioned wire, by the way}, and I get moving.

As I begin, I look up and notice my heart rate beginning to climb—because I’m exercising, yes—but also because what I see in front of me feels like a lot. It always does. Vying for my attention is a long line of TVs, each featuring an option for what I can give my attention to for the next 30 minutes or so. Multiple cable news networks, a couple local channels, home decorating shows, cooking shows, talk shows, sporting events, a Hollywood entertainment channel, a weather report, Court TV, and a never ending infomercial for what they claim is the vacuum of my dreams, with the most powerful suction capabilities in all the land. It’s literally playing every time I’m in there—and they’ve almost convinced me.

If I so choose, I can connect my head phones and tune in to any of these options. But I usually forego the screens and choose something on my phone—a podcast or a playlist, depending on the day. And yet, even then, as I am trying to listen to and focus on what I’m hearing in my headphones, those TVs keep drawing me in.  It can all be a bit overwhelming, distracting, disorienting. Overstimulating, for sure. Pulled in countless directions, I feel slightly bombarded, my attention unable to fully land anywhere.

It’s a frequent experience for me at the gym, and recently, I’ve found it to also be a helpful image for a very real and frequent struggle we face in our actual lives. Here’s what I mean.

Each day, it seems we are bombarded by a variety of “screens” or voices, numerous options of what or who to give our attention to. The loudest most blatant ones draw us in and, if you’re like me, they can distract us from what is true, leading us further away from our deepest identity—our belovedness.

Author and spiritual director Jan Johnson calls this collection of voices “the committee that lives in our head.” Of course, these are not audible voices; instead, they are more like the promptings, messaging, narratives, and identities we hold within. And they are always competing for our attention. Always beckoning us to tune into what they have to say.

These committees might include members like The Critic, The Worrier, The Achiever, The Victim, The Defender, The Manager, The Doubter or the Entertainer, just to name a few. They call out to us and stand in our way, drowning out the Voice we most long to hear. Sound familiar?

Now, please hear me say, it’s not wrong that these committees and voices exist—truly, it’s an unfortunate part of the human experience. So we don’t need to shame ourselves for having a committee in the first place. That, my friend, is most unhelpful. Shame is never a good place to begin.

But I’m learning that what we do need to become more aware of are the ways the committee in our minds often keep us from tuning into the most deep and true voice of our souls. Because the voices we listen to the most tend to shape the way we live our lives.

The good news is, we are not alone in this struggle—this struggle of longing to hear God’s voice over all the others. In fact, it’s a struggle that’s been around for quite some time. And scripture actually offers passages that invite us to tune in to what’s true.

I think of Philippians 4:8, which reads,

…whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Or Colossians 3:1-2 from The Message translation, reads this way:

So if you’re serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don’t shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that’s where the action is. See things from his perspective.

In each of these short passages, Paul is inviting the churches to whom he is writing to tune in to the mind of Christ, rather than a mind consumed by a committee. It isn’t an invitation to escape reality, nor to discount, dismiss, or belittle the experience of suffering. But it is an invitation to intentionally be reminded of hope, reminded of joy, reminded of compassion and justice and humility. It’s an invitation to notice the beauty and to experience what it’s like to be called by name and led by Love.

That’s the Voice we’re meant to know. And that’s the Voice we’re meant to follow.

In John 10:2-4, Jesus says,

The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice.

So what might it look like to tune in to that Voice?  Well, I don’t know that I can prescribe it. But I will offer that maybe it starts with a noticing, and continues as a slow cultivation over time, as we commit to train our ears and hearts and minds and lives to hear the Voice who calls us beloved.

Maybe it happens while sitting quietly on a porch.

Going for a run.

Cooking in the kitchen.

Reciting a scripture passage.

Talking with friends.

Singing a hymn.

Serving a neighbor.

No matter how we come to know that Voice, it is the voice that will sustain us as we navigate the wilderness of the world, reminding us who we are every step of the way.

As Jan Richardson writes in her poem, Beloved Is Where We Begin:

If you would enter into the wilderness,

do not begin without a blessing.

Do not leave

without hearing

who you are:

Beloved,

named by the One

who has traveled this path before you.

Do not go

without letting it echo

in your ears,

and if you find

it is hard

to let it into your heart,

do not despair.

That is what this journey is for.

I cannot promise

this blessing will free you from danger,

from fear,

from hunger

or thirst,

from the scorching

of sun

or the fall

of the night.

But I can tell you that on this path

there will be help.

I can tell you

that on this way there will be rest.

I can tell you

that you will know

the strange graces

that come to our aid only on a road

such as this,

that fly to meet us bearing comfort

and strength,

that come alongside us for no other cause

than to lean themselves toward our ear

and with their

curious insistence whisper our name:

Beloved. Beloved. Beloved.

Today, remember to tune in. To listen for the Voice who calls us by name and leads us in love. May we learn to discern and hear that Voice clearly every step of the way, as we continue to become the people God calls and invites us to be.