
If you hear voices in your head, you are not alone.
In her poem, “The Voices Within,” Emily Dickinson described her internal dialogue like this:
The voices that live in my head,
Whispering secrets, softly they tread.
They murmur and sigh, never at rest,
Filling my mind with their constant quest.
Most of us, if not all of us, are perpetually engaged in a conversation with the collaborative and competitive voices within. Perhaps there are voices that taunt you or haunt you, and those contenders need to be disciplined, silenced, or converted. But there can also be voices that help you to find direction, make decisions, and affirm your sacred worth.
Learning to dialogue with these voices is one of our most important life skills.
Regardless of the wisdom around the table, a successful board meeting is rarely unanimous. Whether in a corporation, a church, or a city council, thoughtful decisions usually emerge after vigorous discussion. Different perspectives are expressed. Risks are identified. Opportunities are explored. Questions are asked. Ideally, the participants do not seek perfect unanimity but sufficient consensus to move confidently toward a common goal.
Perhaps our inner lives function in much the same way. We often speak of “following our heart” or “listening to our inner voice,” or even being attentive to the “still small voice,” but I suspect we do not possess a single inner voice. Rather, each of us hosts an internal committee, composed of voices shaped by our experiences, emotions, memories, hopes, fears, convictions, and faith. Every significant decision becomes something of an internal board meeting.
Years ago, while serving in Kentucky, my dear friend, Bob Lockhart, who was a wise and beloved, yet crotchety, retired pastor, told me that from his perspective, each of us has multiple constituents within who are arguing their case, and that those constituent voices lobby until a majority comes to an agreement, and that is when we make a decision.
That explanation helped me understand that we do not have an inner voice, but a cacophony of inner voices. When we make decisions, the goal is for those inner voices to reach a consensus, which leads to action, although the voices are seldom, if ever, unanimous.
Some members of that internal committee are extraordinarily helpful. One voice urges caution. Another inspires courage. One reminds us of our responsibilities. Another dreams of new possibilities. One values stability. Another longs for adventure.
These voices are not our enemies. In fact, they often protect us from impulsive decisions. Problems arise, however, when one of the haunting or taunting voices dominates the conversation while silencing all the others.
For example, when anxiety takes control, it convenes an emergency meeting where every agenda item becomes a potential disaster.
When anger chairs the meeting, every discussion becomes a debate about fairness.
When guilt presides, every decision is filtered through past failures.
When pride occupies the chair, every proposal must somehow enhance our reputation.
None of these voices should be allowed to dominate our decision-making process. The Apostle Paul understood this internal struggle. “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Romans 7:15). Paul recognized that the Christian life involves an ongoing conversation between competing desires. Spiritual maturity is learning which voices deserve influence and which must yield to Christ.
The psychologist Viktor Frankl observed, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.” Wisdom grows in that space. Rather than reacting to the loudest emotion of the moment, we learn to pause, reflect, pray, and discern.
I am convinced that although the voice of faith, which could also be called the voice of the Spirit, is not the only voice we hear, it should be designated as the voice that presides over all the other voices.
Nehemiah modeled this beautifully. When King Artaxerxes noticed his sadness and asked what troubled him, Nehemiah tells us, “I prayed to the God of heaven, and I answered the king” (Nehemiah 2:4–5). It was only a brief prayer, but it reveals a disciplined heart. Before speaking outwardly, Nehemiah listened inwardly for God’s direction. He allowed the voice of faith to moderate the voices of fear, uncertainty, and opportunity.
Decision-making improves when we refuse to let the most emotional voice cast the deciding vote. Instead, we invite every perspective to be heard while making sure to keep faith at the head of the table to preside over the meeting.
Dallas Willard wisely wrote, “The first and most basic thing we can and must do is to keep God before our minds.” When Christ occupies the chairperson’s seat, fear becomes prudence instead of panic. Ambition becomes stewardship instead of self-promotion. Grief becomes love remembering. Anger becomes righteous conviction rather than destructive resentment.
The goal is not to eliminate the many voices within us. God has given us emotions, memories, imagination, reason, and intuition as valuable gifts. The challenge is to bring them into proper relationship under the lordship of Christ.
Healthy decision-making is less about achieving unanimity among our internal constituents than it is about building enough consensus to move forward faithfully. There will almost always be lingering questions, unresolved tensions, and minority opinions. That is part of being human.
But when Scripture informs our minds, the Holy Spirit shapes our thinking, and prayer quiets our souls, the internal conversation becomes healthier. The competing voices gradually become contributing voices, and what once sounded like confusion begins to resemble harmony.
The next time you face an important decision, imagine convening a meeting of your internal constituents. Let fear speak but not dominate. Let wisdom ask its questions. Let experience offer its counsel. Let hope imagine possibilities.
Then, before the vote is taken, invite faith to present the closing argument.
The internal voices will not go away. So, learn to hear and discern those voices wisely.
Emily Dickinson concluded her poem with these words:
So, I listen, I ponder, I try to make sense,
Of the myriad voices, their presence immense.
They shape my thoughts, they shape my art,
The voices within, an inseparable part.








