Hearing the Voice You Can Trust

Every December, something almost mystical happens — even in the Bay Area.

People who haven’t thought about God in eleven months suddenly start playing songs about him in their Teslas.

At Target, you can hear “O Come Let Us Adore Him” playing right next to a plastic reindeer that lights up when you walk by.

Something happens in this season that tugs at our hearts.

It’s like, beneath all the lights and parties and Amazon deliveries, something ancient is whispering: “Come home.”

And maybe that’s why Christmas, more than any other time of year, has the power to awaken something spiritual in us.

It’s the season when — even for a few short weeks — the world slows down long enough to wonder if there’s more to life than work deadlines, and soccer schedules, and the next thing on our calendar.

The prophet Isaiah said it like this, 700 years before Jesus was born:

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given… and His name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6)

Four names that would reveal everything we would ever need to know about God — four truths that speak to the deepest longings of the human heart.

This Christmas, we’re going to spend the next several weeks exploring these names — because they’re not just poetic titles from an ancient prophet.

They’re promises.

Each one reveals something about the kind of Savior Jesus is — and the kind of hope he brings to people like you and me.

When life feels confusing — He’s a Wonderful Counselor.
When we feel powerless — He’s a Mighty God.
When we feel alone — He’s an Everlasting Father.
When the world feels chaotic — He’s the Prince of Peace.

Each week, we’ll unwrap one of these names and discover what it means to let that part of who Jesus is come alive in us this Christmas.

And maybe — just maybe — that quiet tug you feel this time of year is what Isaiah described long ago… the loving clasp of a tiny hand reaching out from a bed of straw, tugging you back to God.

So let’s start today with the first name — Wonderful Counselor

In ancient times, names weren’t random.

They were chosen to reflect a person’s character or destiny.

When Isaiah said the Messiah would be called Wonderful Counselor, he was saying, “This will be someone whose wisdom will astonish you — someone whose insight will be so deep and so divine that it will change how you live.”

And I think we all know what it’s like to need good counsel.

We live in a world overflowing with advice — podcasts, Instagram posts, YouTube gurus, and twelve-point plans for everything from decluttering your garage to finding your soulmate.

Yet somehow, despite all of the advice, we’ve never been more anxious, and confused, and exhausted.

Maybe what we need this Christmas isn’t more advice — maybe we need better counsel. Maybe we need a voice that cuts through the noise and helps us see clearly again.

Names can be confusing sometimes.

I met someone once who’s parents named her “Alexa.”

Can you imagine trying to have a normal dinner conversation?

Every time someone said her name, music started playing.

But in the ancient world, names weren’t clever or trendy — they were prophetic. They said something about who you would become.

So when Isaiah said the Messiah’s name would be Wonderful Counselor, he was declaring that God himself would come — not as a distant, silent deity, but as a wise and compassionate counselor who would speak into the deepest questions of our lives.

So here’s the question I want to ask you to reflect on as we enter this season:

Whose counsel are you following right now?

Because every one of us is building our life on someone’s advice —

Someone’s version of the truth.
Someone’s definition of success.
Someone’s sense of what matters most.

And this Christmas, I believe Jesus wants to whisper to you and me that there is a better way.

I believe he wants to become for you and for me what he promised to be — a Wonderful Counselor.

When Isaiah said he would be called Wonderful Counselor, the Hebrew word he used for wonderful meant “beyond comprehension.”

It’s not just “really good at giving advice.”

It literally means extraordinary, or miraculous, or astonishing.

And the word counselor was used for someone who guided kings — a trusted strategist, an advisor who could see what others couldn’t.

So together, those words mean “a counselor whose wisdom is beyond human understanding.”

Isaiah was saying that when Jesus came, he would bring wisdom from another realm — divine perspective for people who can’t find their way.

You’ve probably noticed: we live in the most “informed” generation in history — and also, maybe, the most confused.

We have access to more knowledge than any civilization before us.

If you need to fix your finances — there are 10 million videos for that.
If you want to know what diet to follow — there are 10 million more… all contradicting each other.
Ask ChatGPT a question — and it’ll give you an answer that sounds confident, even if it’s wrong.

We’ve got data, advice, research, algorithms, and experts — and yet anxiety, division, and burnout are at all-time highs.

So it’s no wonder that when Isaiah said, “His name shall be called Wonderful Counselor,” the ancient world sighed with relief.

Finally — a voice you can trust.

Finally — someone whose wisdom doesn’t shift with the latest trend or political cycle or influencer post.

If you read the Gospels, one of the most fascinating things about Jesus is — he rarely answered people’s surface questions.

He went deeper.

A man asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” and Jesus says, “Go sell your possessions.”

A woman says, “Where should we worship?” and Jesus says, “Let’s talk about living water that will never run dry.”

The disciples argue about who’s the greatest, and Jesus pulls a child into his lap.

He doesn’t just give good advice; he gives transformational wisdom.

He sees beyond our present problems to what’s happening underneath them.

It’s like living here in the Bay Area — surrounded by some of the smartest people on the planet.

We have PhDs in physics, engineers designing technology that literally changes the world, and venture capitalists who can model the future.

But even with all that brilliance, how many of us still lie awake at night wondering:

Am I doing life right?
Am I building something that matters?
Am I actually happy?

You can have ten degrees and still not know how to forgive someone.
You can build AI that can out-think humanity — and still not know how to heal your marriage.

That’s why we need more than knowledge. We need wisdom.

And that’s what our Wonderful Counselor offers.

I read a study once that said the average person makes about 35,000 decisions every day.

And I thought, “That can’t be right — I can barely decide where to eat lunch after church.”

Maybe they’re counting how many times I open the fridge and say no.

But then it hit me — even small choices accumulate.

Every click, every conversation, every moment of distraction or discipline — they all steer the course of our lives.

And the truth is, most of us are winging it.

That’s why we need a counselor whose wisdom doesn’t depend on moods, or polls, or guesswork — a counselor who sees where every path leads before we take the first step.

Jesus said:

Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. (Matthew 7:24)

He’s not offering tips; he’s offering foundation.

He’s saying, “Build your life on my words — and when the storms come, you’ll stand.”

Because the truth is, every one of us is building on something:

Our emotions
Our intellect
Our instincts
Our friends’ opinions
The latest book we read

But there’s only one foundation that doesn’t crack under pressure — and it’s the wisdom of Jesus, our Wonderful Counselor.

So let me ask you again — where do you go for wisdom?

When you’re stuck in a decision, who do you listen to?

When life gets confusing, whose voice carries the most weight in your mind?

Because this Christmas, the invitation of Isaiah’s prophecy still stands:

Come to the Wonderful Counselor.
Sit at his feet.
Let his words reframe your life.

He’s not just wise — he is wisdom.
He doesn’t just point the way — he is the way.

And when you trust his counsel, you’ll find what no amount of data or hustle or self-help can ever give you — peace.

One thing that made Jesus so magnetic is that he could look right into a person’s soul —

He saw the truth about them, but he didn’t weaponize it.
He told people the truth — but he did it in a way that made them want to come closer, not run away.

That’s rare.

Most of us know people who are great at truth but not so great at tenderness.

And others who are great at tenderness but allergic to truth.

Jesus was both — perfectly balanced, wonderfully wise.

We’ve all met people who tell it like it is — and then use that as an excuse to be mean.

They say, “I’m just being honest,” and what they really mean is, “I haven’t learned how to be empathetic.”

Truth without tenderness isn’t love; it’s just noise.

And on the flip side, tenderness without truth isn’t love either — it’s sentimentality.

It feels good in the moment, but it doesn’t heal anything.

When Isaiah called Jesus our Wonderful Counselor, he was describing someone who embodies both:

He gives you wisdom that cuts through your self-deception, and he delivers it with such grace that you feel seen. You feel safe.

Think about the way Jesus talked with people.

To the woman caught in adultery, He said, “Neither do I condemn you” — tenderness — and then, “Go and sin no more” — truth.

To Peter, after he denied Him three times, Jesus didn’t lecture him. He just asked, “Do you love me?” three times. That’s not guilt; that’s restoration.

To the rich young ruler, he looked at him with love — and then told him the one thing he didn’t want to hear.

Every conversation Jesus had was perfectly calibrated for the human heart in front of him.

He never said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

That’s what makes him a Wonderful Counselor.

Have you ever gotten bad advice from someone who clearly meant well?

Like you’re stressed and they say, “Have you tried not being stressed?”

Or you’re heartbroken and they say, “Just move on.”

Or you tell a friend you’re struggling spiritually and they say, “You should pray more.”

And you’re like, “Wow, thank you, I never thought of that!”

Sometimes people give counsel that’s technically true — but emotionally tone-deaf.

Jesus never did that.

When he spoke, his words weren’t just right; they were right for you.

When Isaiah called him Wonderful Counselor, that wasn’t a title for a God who sits behind a mahogany desk in heaven handing out advice slips.

It was a picture of a Savior who enters our mess.

He’s the Counselor who sits beside you in the car when you don’t know where life is headed.

He’s the one who shows up in the silence after the fight, in the sleepless night, in the ache of regret — and instead of condemning you, he whispers wisdom and grace.

He’s not the kind of counselor who just tells you what you should do; he’s the kind who helps you become who you were created to be.

Maybe you’ve had people in your life who gave you one but not the other — people who told you the truth but made you feel small, or people who comforted you but never challenged you to grow.

But when you come to Jesus, you get both.

He’ll tell you what you need to hear, and he’ll say it in a way that reminds you you’re deeply loved.

He’ll never coddle you, but he’ll never crush you either.

That’s the kind of counselor our world is starving for.

So maybe this Christmas, before we rush through the season, you could slow down long enough to ask, “Jesus, what truth do you want to speak into my life right now?”

And then listen.

Because if you let him, he’ll speak in ways that cut through the noise — and you’ll discover that his counsel is more than words of advice.

It’s an invitation to healing.

You know, one of the most concerning things about living in this generation is that we’ve confused information with transformation.

We think if we know more, we’ll become more.

But we all know that’s not how it works.

Just because you have a gym membership doesn’t mean you’re in shape.
Just because you downloaded the budgeting app doesn’t mean you have a budget.
Just because you read the Bible app doesn’t mean it’s shaping how you live.

Information alone doesn’t change people.

But the right voice, the right counselor, can.

You know, there’s a big difference between advise and counsel.

Advice says, “Here’s what you should do.”
Counsel says, “Here’s who you can become.”

Advice gives you steps.
Counsel gives you strength.

Advice focuses on behavior.
Counsel focuses on the heart.

That’s why Jesus isn’t just a good advice-giver. That’s why he’s the Wonderful Counselor.

He doesn’t just give you a new to-do list. He gives you a new life.

If you trace through the Gospels, every time Jesus spoke, something changed.

He told a blind man, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” — and he came back seeing.
He told a paralyzed man, “Get up and walk” — and he did.
He told a storm, “Be still” — and the wind obeyed.
He told a grieving family, “She’s not dead but asleep” — and a little girl opened her eyes.
He told sinners, “Your sins are forgiven” — and their souls were washed clean.

That’s not advice. That’s transformation.

When the Wonderful Counselor speaks, creation responds.

Things that are broken begin to heal.
Things that are dead begin to live again.

It’s wild, because we live in a culture that believes we can transform ourselves if we just have the right life hack.

You can’t scroll Instagram for five minutes without someone telling you the “three secrets to inner peace” or “five morning habits that’ll change your life.”

And look, I’m not against habits. I love habits. I have more apps tracking my habits than I want to admit.

But here’s the truth: if all it took was good habits to heal the human soul, we wouldn’t need Christmas.

We wouldn’t need a Savior — just a better calendar app.

We don’t just need more structure; we need salvation.
We don’t just need new information; we need transformation.

And that’s exactly what Jesus came to bring.

One of the most beautiful things about the way Jesus works is that he starts on the inside and works his way out.

He changes hearts before habits.
He restores motives before behaviors.
He deals with roots, not just fruit.

You can tell someone to forgive until you’re blue in the face — but until Jesus heals the bitterness in their heart, forgiveness is impossible.

You can tell someone to stop worrying — but until Jesus shows them who’s really in control, they’ll stay anxious.

You can tell someone to love better — but until they’ve been loved perfectly, their love will always be limited.

The Wonderful Counselor changes us at the deepest level of who we are.

He doesn’t just adjust your behavior; he rewires your being.

I recently met a man who had been coming to Blue Oaks for months — he was quiet, polite, never really opened up.

Then one Sunday, after a message about forgiveness, he came up to me with tears in his eyes.

He said, “Matt, I’ve hated my father for 20 years. I’ve tried everything — therapy, books, prayer — nothing worked. But today, for the first time, I think I actually want to forgive him.”

That’s not just a decision. That’s the transformational work of Jesus in his life.

That’s the Wonderful Counselor doing what no human counselor can do — changing the “want to” inside of us.

We live in a culture obsessed with self-improvement… but allergic to surrender.

Everyone wants to “be their best self,” but no one wants to give up control.

We love the idea of growth, as long as we get to stay in charge of it.

But the kind of change Jesus brings only comes when we let him sit in the counselor’s chair.

It’s when we stop editing his advice, stop arguing with his direction, and finally say,
“Okay, Jesus — you lead. I’ll follow.”

You ever notice how sometimes we go to God for advice and then do the exact opposite?

We’re like, “God, what should I do about this relationship?”

And God’s like, “Walk away.”

And we’re like, “Cool, I think I’ll move in instead.”

Or we ask, “God, how can I have peace?”

And he says, “Forgive.”

And we’re like, “Okay, what’s option B?”

We don’t actually want a counselor — we want a consultant. Someone who will confirm what we already decided.

But Jesus doesn’t play that game.

He loves you too much to just agree with you. He wants to transform you.

Sometimes that transformation is painful — because it requires honesty.

Every great counselor knows you can’t heal what you won’t face.

So when Jesus speaks truth, it may sting at first — but it’s the kind of sting that leads to freedom.

The writer of Hebrews put it like this:

The Word of God is alive and active… it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. (Hebrews 4:12)

That’s what Jesus does.

He lays bare what’s hidden, not to shame you, but to heal you.

He doesn’t expose the truth to embarrass you; he exposes it to restore you.

So here’s a question for you:

Where do you need transformation right now?

Not just change — but transformation.

Not “how can I do better,” but “who is Jesus calling me to become?”

Maybe it’s a relationship that’s stuck.
Maybe it’s a habit that’s eating away at your peace.
Maybe it’s a wound that you’ve been carrying for years.

The Wonderful Counselor is not intimidated by any of it.

He knows exactly what to say, exactly what to do, and exactly how to lead you toward wholeness.

I’ve sat with people over the years who’ve said, “Matt, I don’t even know where to start.”

And honestly, that’s usually the best place to start.

Because when you reach the end of your own answers, that’s when you finally start to listen to his. That’s when transformation begins.

You see, Jesus doesn’t just want to make you a little better. He wants to make you brand new.

Isaiah said his name will be called Wonderful Counselor — and when you let that Counselor lead, he doesn’t just improve your life — he reshapes it.

He turns information into transformation.
He turns brokenness into beauty.
He turns confusion into clarity.

But one of the hardest things about having a Wonderful Counselor is — we rarely sit still long enough to listen to him.

It’s not that Jesus isn’t speaking — it’s that we’re not quiet.

We’re surrounded by constant noise — notifications, podcasts, news alerts, Slack messages, Siri chiming in with her uninvited opinion.

If Isaiah were writing his prophecy today, he might have said, “Unto us a child is born, and his name shall be called… Noise-Cancelling Savior.”

There was a fascinating study from Harvard that found the average person spends nearly 47% of their waking life thinking about something other than what they’re doing.

For almost half of our lives, our minds are somewhere else.

We’re a distracted people.
We’re listening to everything — except the One voice that can actually lead us to peace.

And it’s not just the noise around us — it’s the noise within us.

The internal chatter that won’t turn off:

What if I fail?
What if they don’t like me?
What if I’m not enough?
What if I make the wrong decision?

We keep scrolling, talking, and multitasking — hoping that constant motion will drown out the uncertainty inside.

But all that noise only keeps us from hearing the Wonderful Counselor who’s been trying to speak all along.

In 1 Kings 19, the prophet Elijah is running for his life — burned out, afraid, done.

And God tells him to stand on the mountain, because he’s about to pass by.

Then a wind tears through the mountains — but God isn’t in the wind.
Then an earthquake shakes the ground — but God isn’t in the earthquake.
Then a fire blazes across the hillside — but God isn’t in the fire.

And then the text says, “After the fire came a gentle whisper.”

And that’s where Elijah encountered God.

You know what that tells us?

If you want to hear the Wonderful Counselor, you have to create space for the whisper.

He doesn’t compete with your calendar.
He doesn’t shout over your Spotify playlist.

He speaks softly — because he wants you to to chose to listen.

Have you ever tried to pray and realized your brain is like a browser with 47 tabs open?

You start with, “Dear God,” and immediately think, “Did I reply to that email? I should order dog food. Why am I thinking about seventh grade right now?”

It’s like spiritual ADHD.

We expect to hear God clearly in a 10-second window between texts.

But relationships don’t work that way — and neither does our relationship with God.

Listening takes time… and quiet… and patience.

So how do we actually listen to the Wonderful Counselor?

1. Create margin for stillness.

God said in Psalm 46:

Be still, and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)

Stillness isn’t laziness; it’s attentiveness.

It’s intentionally stepping out of the noise so you can hear what your soul has been trying to say.

For some of you, the most spiritual thing you could do this week is turn off the car radio on your commute and sit in silence for ten minutes.

Just let your heart catch up with your body.

2. Let Scripture shape your inner dialogue.

Jesus said:

My sheep listen to my voice. (John 10:27)

The best way to recognize his voice is to know what it sounds like.

And you learn that by immersing yourself in his Word — not as a chore, but as a conversation.

Every page of Scripture trains your ears to discern the Counselor’s tone —

The way he comforts.
The way he convicts.
The way he calls.

So that when he whispers to you in everyday life, you’ll know it’s him.

3. Invite community into your listening.

God rarely speaks in isolation.

He often uses wise, Spirit-filled people around you to confirm what he’s already been whispering.

Sometimes, the Wonderful Counselor speaks through a friend who loves you enough to tell you the truth.
Or a small group conversation that hits you right between the eyes.
Or a song lyric that says what your heart couldn’t find words for.

Listening to Jesus isn’t just something we do in quiet lonely places. It’s a shared experience.

Now, I know — we live in a place that glorifies busyness.

In the Bay Area, exhaustion is almost a badge of honor.

If you’re not tired, people assume you’re not doing enough.

But here’s the truth:

Busyness is the enemy of intimacy.

You can’t multitask your way into spiritual depth.

Jesus said:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)

But we often read that verse like, “Come to me, all you who are weary — after you finish your emails.”

No. He’s saying, “Come now.”

Rest isn’t a reward for productivity; it’s the posture that lets you hear God’s voice.

There was a season in my life when I was running on fumes — too many decisions, too many responsibilities, too little rest.

I remember one night sitting in my car outside the house, the engine off, lights off, just quiet.

And for the first time in who knows how many days, I didn’t pray, didn’t plan, didn’t perform — I just sat.

And in that silence, I sensed something I hadn’t felt in a long time — peace.

Not because anything had changed externally, but because I was finally still enough to hear the Counselor’s voice say, “You’re not alone. I’ve got this.”

That moment didn’t fix my circumstances, but it restored my soul.

And sometimes, that’s the miracle — not that God changes your situation, but that he changes you in the middle of it.

You see, the same voice that spoke galaxies into existence still whispers today.
The same voice that calmed the sea can calm your anxious heart.
The same voice that called Lazarus out of the tomb can call you out of your confusion, or guilt, or chaos — if you’ll make space to listen.

He’s not silent. He’s just waiting for you to be quiet.

Maybe this week, when you find yourself asking Siri for directions, let that be a reminder that Jesus is waiting for you to ask him for direction for your life.

Because unlike Siri, he actually knows where your life is supposed to go.

So let me ask you — what would it look like for you to create just a little space for the Wonderful Counselor this week?

Maybe it’s five minutes of silence in the morning.
Maybe it’s a walk without AirPods.
Maybe it’s journaling instead of scrolling.

Whatever it is, the Wonderful Counselor is speaking.

He’s not distant. He’s near.

He’s been waiting for you to pause long enough to hear him whisper your name.

The prophet Isaiah said, “His name shall be called Wonderful Counselor.”

That’s who he is — not just then, not just for someone else, but for you.

He’s wise enough to guide your path.
He’s gentle enough to heal your wounds.
He’s powerful enough to transform your life.
And he’s close enough to whisper your name.

You know, every Christmas I’m reminded that the story of Jesus didn’t begin in a manger — it began in the heart of a God who couldn’t bear to stay silent any longer.

A God who said, “They’ve lost their way. They’re listening to everyone but me.”

So He came.

Not as a thunderclap.
Not as a king on a horse.
But as a whisper in a baby’s cry.

The Wonderful Counselor entered the world wrapped in vulnerability — because that’s how love always comes.

Soft.
Gentle.
Near.

Isaiah said, “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given…”

That means this isn’t just a story from 2,000 years ago.

It’s personal.

Unto us.
Unto you.

And maybe this year, that’s what you need to hear most — that the same God who guided prophets and kings still speaks to ordinary people like you and me.

He still counsels the confused.
He still comforts the broken.
He still whispers wisdom into weary hearts.

So before we rush off into the busyness of December — the shopping, the lights, the family gatherings, the travel — would you just take a breath and ask yourself:

Where do I need the Wonderful Counselor right now?
Where am I pretending to have it together when I’m really not okay?
Where do I need to hear his voice more than any other?

Maybe it’s in a relationship that’s fraying.
Maybe it’s a decision that’s paralyzing you.
Maybe it’s a season of uncertainty, and you’ve been trying to hold it all together on your own.

Whatever it is — he already knows. And he’s already knocking.

You know what — if Jesus were here in the Bay Area right now, I don’t think he’d be wearing a robe and sandals.

He’d probably be sitting with you over coffee, asking, “So how’s your soul? Really, how is it?”

And before you could give your polished answer, you’d see that look in his eyes —
the one that says, I already know… and I’m not going anywhere.

That’s the look of the Wonderful Counselor.

Truthful and tender.
Patient and kind.
Still knocking on doors that only you can open.

In Revelation 3:20, Jesus said:

Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with them, and they with me. (Revelation 3:20)

Maybe this Christmas season, that’s your invitation — to open the door again.

Maybe for the first time, or maybe for the first time in a long time.

You don’t have to have all the answers.
You don’t have to clean everything up first.
You just have to open the door.

Because the Counselor won’t force his way in. He waits to be invited.

Would you bow your heads and pray with me as the worship team comes to lead us in a closing song?