In the winter of 2002, my coworker Deryck Livingston and I stood in front of a discipleship class at Bethel College in Indiana and tried something that made us both nervous. Deryck asked the room, "Who here has never really heard the Lord in a clear way?"

A number of hands went up.

He asked if anyone would come forward so we could pray and ask God to speak to them, right there, in front of everyone. A big young man named Ernest walked up and sat down. Deryck put a hand on his shoulder and prayed a simple prayer, asking God to reveal Himself to Ernest as he sought Him with all his heart.

Then we waited. We had put our faith on the line in a classroom full of college students, and the room was silent.

After a while, Deryck quietly asked, "Ernest, have you heard anything?"

Ernest nodded. "He wants me to know how much He loves me."

Then the rest came out. He'd been working so hard to do well in school, make the right choices, and please God. But God had told him that all that other stuff didn't matter that much. In a minute of silence, a burden Ernest had carried for years came off his shoulders. Afterward he told the class that he was sitting in a Christian college, taking a class on discipleship, and was only now learning the difference between talking about listening to God and actually listening.

That was twenty-four years ago. I've thought about Ernest a lot this fall.

They're Coming to Talk to God

This is the third post in a series. Two weeks ago I wrote that Gen Z is the generation most likely to believe revival is coming. Last week I wrote that they're filling church seats and that someone needs to stay with them long enough to form them.

New research from Barna and Gloo tells us what they're hoping to find when they come. One in three young adults say they're going to church more often than they were a year ago. When Barna asked them why, prayer came out on top. Nearly half named it, ahead of worship, friendships, and every other reason on the list. Young men were more likely than young women to say they come to confess their sins. Gloo's Brianne Shaw put it simply: young people are "showing up to talk to God, next to their people."

Lifeway found the other side of this. Prayer is one of the places where Gen Z churchgoers struggle most.

So they walk in hungry to pray, and many of them walk out unsure how to do it.

We Taught Them to Talk

I'm not surprised, and I don't think the problem started with them. In 2005, when I wrote The Art of Listening Prayer, I said an entire generation of disciplers was failing to teach the most basic spiritual skill there is: how to have a real conversation with God. Most of us were taught prayer as a monologue. We read down a list, say amen, and get on with our day, without ever expecting an answer.

Now think about who's walking in the door. This generation has been graded, ranked, and scored their whole lives, from school to social media feeds to job applications. Many of them come to God the way Ernest did, ready to perform one more time. If all we hand them is a prayer list, we've given them one more assignment to complete.

What freed Ernest wasn't a lesson on prayer. It was hearing God's voice tell him he was loved. I know what that's like. In 1991, at a time when I badly needed it, God spoke to me in a way that was personal and unmistakable, and what He said was that He loved me. I'd never doubted that in my head. Hearing it from Him directly changed my life, and I couldn't go back.

"My sheep listen to my voice," Jesus said to his disciples. He meant that literally, and He still does.

Listening Runs Both Ways

Josh Packard and his team at Future of Faith recently released what they believe is the first national study of how listening affects faith formation. Eight in ten teenagers said being listened to mattered in the moments that shaped their faith most.

So, we who are older have two jobs. The first is to listen to the young person in front of you, really listen, without planning your next point. The second is to teach them to listen to God. Most churches skip that second job.

When I wrote the book, I insisted that nobody should try listening prayer alone. Everyone needs a coach, someone a rung or two further along who can help test what they're hearing against Scripture. I wrote then that pooled ignorance shouldn't be mistaken for wisdom. A young person trying to hear God for the first time needs someone who has done it for years and knows how to sort out God's voice from their own anxieties.

The method is simple, and you can try it this week with a son, a granddaughter, or the young man in your small group. Bring a Bible, a journal, and two pens in different colors. Read a short passage together. Ask God a plain question, like "Is there anything You want to say to me today?", and then wait. Write your own words in black and anything you sense God saying in blue. Afterward, compare notes and check what you wrote against Scripture.

The silence will feel awkward at first. Let it. When Deryck sat with Ernest, he said the room seemed to fall away, and he felt like he was overhearing a private conversation between a father and his son. That's exactly the experience we want to give this generation.

Someone to Pray With

Gloo ended its report with a question for church leaders: how easy is it for someone new to find someone to pray with? I'd ask the same thing of every parent and grandparent reading this. A young person who wanders into your church this fall is looking for God, and also for someone to sit beside them while they look.

Ernest found both in that classroom. He walked in trying to earn God's love and walked out knowing he already had it. He told us he finally saw that God might just want to spend time with him.

This week, pray with a young person, not only for them. And after you ask God your question, leave enough silence for Him to answer.