Visions, Voices and Vibes: Are We Okay with Weird?

Alright, before we dive into today’s message, I’ve got something a bit different for you. We’re going to do a little experiment. Don’t worry — no one’s coming up the front, no one’s getting interviewed, and you won’t need to pray out loud. You're all safe. All you have to do is watch this video. It’s short. It’s simple. But it’s going to mess with your head — just a little.

(Play the Colour Changing Card Trick video)

Raise your hand if you caught every change. Now put it down, because I know you're lying. You were all so focused on the cards — that you missed a whole wardrobe change, a set redesign, and probably the Second Coming. It’s hilarious… and a little unsettling, right? Because it shows how easy it is to miss something massive — not because it’s hidden, but because we’re too focused on the thing we think we’re supposed to be watching.

And here’s the weird spiritual truth bomb: we do this with God. We’re told to look for God in certain ways — in sermons, in songs, in quiet times and Bible plans. And don’t get me wrong, those are all good. But what about when God changes the background? What about when He moves in ways we weren’t looking for — shifts the scene, alters the environment, or speaks through something we never thought was spiritual?

What if someone told you they’d heard God’s voice from a shell on the beach? Felt a divine nudge while hanging out the washing? Saw a vision in their Weet-Bix? You’d probably smile politely, mumble something encouraging, and quietly back away… or ask how much cheese they’d had before bed. Because let’s face it — we’re not great at dealing with weird. Especially spiritual weird. We’re told what to expect of God. Where He fits. What’s appropriate. What counts as ‘holy’ or ‘normal’ or ‘biblical.’ And we become so laser-focused on the “main event” that we miss the colour change in the background — or the whisper in the wind.

Today, I want to talk about that. About visions, voices, and vibes. About the way God speaks — and the way we sometimes ignore it. Not because God is silent, but because we’ve been trained not to expect Him in the odd, the peculiar, and the unusual. So, let’s all get a little weird today.

One of the things I find most exciting — honestly, quite wonderful — is that the Bible is absolutely full of weird. I know! It’s brilliant. If you’re not sure how you feel about God showing up in dreams, awkward nudges, or Weet-Bix visions… just know: Scripture is packed with it.

Burning bushes. Talking donkeys. Staffs turning into snakes. Fish with coins in their mouths. Ghost hands writing on walls. Prophets lying on their sides for a year. If you’re after a tame, tidy God — you might need to choose a different book.

And it doesn’t stop in the Old Testament. Let’s talk about Paul. Super missionary. Church-planter extraordinaire. Writer of many long sentences. In Acts 16, Paul is heading one way — probably with a spreadsheet, a detailed itinerary and a packed lunch — when suddenly, in the middle of the night, BOOM. A dream. A man from Macedonia shows up, waving him down like an ancient Uber driver: “Come help us.” And Paul’s response? He gets up and goes. Just like that. No committee. No ten-point discernment plan. No, “Let’s wait until Synod next spring.” Just a strange spiritual moment… and action.

That one weird dream kickstarted the gospel spreading into Europe.

Now imagine that today. “Hey everyone, I had a dream last night about a guy in Albania asking for help, so I’m catching a flight tomorrow.” You’d get: “Have you talked to your priest?” “Have you spent time in prayer and reflection on it?” “Do you have the right training for that?” Because we’ve learned to spiritualize caution — but not courage.

Then there’s John 14:26, where Jesus says: “The Holy Spirit… will teach you all things and remind you of everything I have said to you.”

Remind you. Teach you. That’s not a one-time message from heaven. That’s a relationship. It’s dynamic. Present-tense. Jesus knew we’d need more than ancient manuscripts. He sent a guide — the Spirit — to keep showing up in real time. Through Scripture, yes. Through tradition, yes. But also… maybe through strange dreams, your cousin’s offhand comment, or that unsettling sense you got while listening to a love song in the car.

The Spirit speaks. We just don’t always hear it.

Let’s be honest — we’re not short on strange spiritual moments. We’re just short on permission to take them seriously.

Take the young person. Full of fire. Passionate. “I think God’s calling me to start something. I had a dream I was planting a tree and it grew into a church with swings and pancakes.” And we go: “Aw, sweet. Maybe when you’re older. Maybe when you’re… less dream-y.”

Or the layperson. No degree. No title. Just a nudge. “I feel like I need to go pray for the guy sitting outside the dairy.” And we say: “Just be careful. Don’t do anything weird.”

And then there’s my favourite: when someone hears God in the words of a film or a song. We hear them say, “Wow, that one line hit me like lightning — I felt like God was saying, ‘That’s for you.’” And we get all squirmy: “Well, that’s not a worship song though…”

Look, God once used a donkey. You think He’s scared of using Ed Sheeran?

I want to tell you a story. It’s not polished. It doesn’t come with a theological footnote or a tidy moral. But it’s one of the weirdest, most wonderful moments of my life — and it changed everything.

It started, of all places, after a late night playing cards and having a few drinks with friends. Nothing particularly holy about it. It was 3 or 4am. A good mate offered to walk me home — didn’t want the girls walking alone. On the way, I started unloading. Uni stress. Family health stuff. That heavy, anxious, “I can’t do this anymore” feeling. I was hoping for life advice. A quote from Aristotle. Instead, he said: “Can I pray for you?” Honestly, I was like: “Really? That’s it?”

We all knew he’d gotten a bit religious lately. Talked about God during card games. We tolerated it like you tolerate someone who insists on bringing their acoustic guitar to parties. But I was desperate. So I said yes.

We sat on the grass in a park. He prayed. Asked Jesus to help me. Asked God to show up in my life. I thanked him, felt a bit awkward, and carried on home.

Now here’s where it got weird. I lay on my bed, staring at my massive space poster. I’ve always loved the stars. Astronomy was — still is — my calm place. But that night, the stars on the poster… started moving. I rubbed my eyes. Blamed exhaustion. Maybe the vodka. But it wasn’t going away. And then I saw it — a face. Made of stars. Like a divine dot-to-dot, drawn just for me. I couldn’t look away. And then came the warmth. Not fear. Not confusion. But warmth — like sunlight on skin, but inside. This deep, rushing, overwhelming peace. I whispered, “If that’s really you… then please help me.” Then I fell asleep.

Next day, I did what any normal person would do — climbed on my bed and tried to find the star pattern again. But it wasn’t there. The poster hadn’t changed. I knew what I’d seen.

Then things started happening. Fast. Health breakthroughs. Postponed Exams. Funding approvals. Doors opening. One after another. I knew. I knew it wasn’t random. It was like God had leaned in and whispered, “Pay attention.” A week later I told my friend. His eyes lit up like Christmas. He invited me to church.

And let me tell you — that was a weird experience too. The standing up and sitting down. The group responses. The “body and blood of Jesus” stuff. I thought, “These people are way too happy… and also, how many books are we using for this service?” But even with all the awkwardness, something in me said: Stay. Pay attention. This is real.

That was the beginning of my walk with Jesus. Not with a hymn. Not with a sermon. But with a prayer at 3am and the face of God in a poster of stars.

So, let me ask you something gentle — but real: Have you muted God? Not out of rebellion. Not out of defiance. But just because...

The whisper felt too small

The dream felt too strange

The vibe felt too vague

And you didn’t want to seem like that kind of Christian

Maybe God’s been trying to speak. Through a lyric. A gut feeling. A bizarre dream you keep shrugging off. A memory that won’t let go. Maybe it’s not that God is silent. Maybe it’s that He’s weird… and we’ve stopped listening to weird.

(Hold up the radio) This old thing? You have to tune it. If you’re on the wrong frequency, all you get is static. But the signal is there. You just have to move the dial.

So this week? Move the dial. Make space for the strange. Pay attention to the nudges. Don’t write off that dream. Don’t dismiss the line in the song that made you cry in the car. Don’t silence the whisper you feel in your gut when you walk past someone. The Spirit is still speaking. You don’t need to be special. You don’t need to be spiritual. You just need to be open.

Because the weird thing? Might just be the holy thing.

Let us pray. God of the whisper and the whirlwind, of burning bushes and starlit ceilings — we confess we’ve grown too polite in our faith. Too safe. Too tidy. Too skeptical of the strange.

Forgive us when we ignore your voice because it doesn’t sound the way we expected. Forgive us when we dismiss your presence because it arrives disguised in dreams, in nudges, in songs, in things we can’t easily explain or control.

Today, soften our skepticism. Stretch our imaginations. Open our hearts. Tune our spirits to your frequency — to hear you in the quiet, to trust you in the weird, to follow you even when it makes us uncomfortable.

And when your Spirit stirs, when the dream is strange or the prompting feels peculiar — give us the courage to say yes. Yes to the wild. Yes to the whisper. Yes to you.

In the name of the one who sends the Spirit — Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.