For a long time, I didn’t trust my intuition.
Not because I didn’t have one—but because I was taught not to.
I grew up in Christianity with a deep reverence for Scripture, structure, and authority. I was taught that God speaks through the Bible, and that anything outside of that framework should be approached with suspicion, if not outright fear. Intuition, feelings, inner knowing—those were unreliable at best and dangerous at worst.
And yet, paradoxically, I was also taught to listen.
To read Scripture prayerfully.
To expect God to highlight something.
To notice what “stood out.”
To respond to what I sensed God was saying in the moment.
At the time, I didn’t realize it, but I was already using intuition. I just didn’t call it that.
This post is about how I slowly learned to trust that inner knowing again—and how oracle decks became one of the tools that helped me do it.
Not as a replacement for God.
Not as a source of authority.
But as a mirror.
Intuition Wasn’t the Problem… Fear Was
Looking back, my issue was never intuition itself. It was the framework I had around it.
In many religious environments, intuition is treated as suspect unless it’s tightly supervised. If your inner sense aligns with doctrine, it’s affirmed. If it doesn’t, it’s labeled deception, rebellion, or spiritual danger.
The message is subtle but clear: you can listen—but only in approved ways.
Over time, that creates a disconnect. You stop trusting yourself. You learn to outsource discernment. You wait for external confirmation before honoring what you already sense internally.
Eventually, you either numb your intuition or you live in constant second-guessing.
Neither leads to peace.
How I Was Taught to “Hear God”
Ironically, some of the healthiest spiritual practices I learned as a Christian were deeply intuitive, even if they weren’t named that way.
I was taught to read Scripture without chasing specific verses like magical solutions. Just read. Let something stand out. Sit with it. Reflect. Respond.
One method I used and taught was the H.E.A.R. journaling method:
- Highlight what stands out
- Explain the text in context
- Apply it to your life
- Respond personally
Later, I expanded that practice by adding meditation—thinking about the passage throughout the day and letting it move from information into lived experience.
What’s interesting is this: the entire process depends on intuition.
Two people can read the same passage and highlight different verses. The text doesn’t change—but what resonates does.
And that resonance was always understood to be God speaking.
The Quiet Contradiction in Religious Dogma
Here’s where the tension started to surface for me.
On one hand, I was told that God only speaks through the Bible.
On the other hand, I regularly heard phrases like:
“I felt like God was saying…”
“If something stood out to you, that was God speaking.”
“Take what resonates and leave the rest.”
Sermons, counseling sessions, conversations, impressions—all of these were treated as valid ways God communicates.
But only within the approved container.
Once you step outside that container, the language changes. Suddenly it’s “divination,” “deception,” or “danger.”
At some point, I had to ask myself an honest question:
Is the issue really the tool—or is it control?
Discovering Oracle Decks as a Reflective Tool
I didn’t start using oracle decks with some grand spiritual agenda.
It happened quietly.
I already had a daily practice of movement and journaling. After working out, I’d sit at my desk and write. Over time, I added a small ritual: I’d look at the decks in front of me and notice which one I felt drawn to that morning.
No forcing.
No prediction.
No future-telling.
Just responsiveness.
I’d pull a card and sit with it before ever opening a guidebook. I’d look at the imagery, notice what stood out, and reflect on how it connected to what was happening in my life.
Only afterward would I read the description—often finding surprising alignment with what I’d already sensed.
Not always identical. But resonant.
And that resonance was the point.
What Oracle Cards Actually Do (For Me)
Oracle cards don’t give me answers.
They give me something to respond to.
The card is not the authority. It’s the prompt.
It functions the same way a passage of Scripture does when read contemplatively. Or a line in a song. Or a conversation with a friend that lingers longer than expected.
The meaning isn’t in the object.
It’s in the interaction.
And that interaction happens internally.
Addressing the Fear Around “Divination”
This is where many people get uncomfortable—and I understand why.
There are ways people use cards that are rooted in fear, control, or prediction. I’m not interested in that.
I’m not asking cards to tell me the future.
I’m not seeking hidden knowledge.
I’m not surrendering authority.
I’m reflecting.
The same card can mean something entirely different to me today than it will next month—because I will be in a different place.
That’s not magic.
That’s awareness.
And it’s no different from reading the same passage of Scripture at different seasons of life and noticing new layers each time.
“Why Do You Need So Many Decks?”
At one point, my wife asked me this question. And in the moment, I didn’t answer it very gracefully.
My reflexive response was something like, “Why do you read your Bible? Why do you have more than one?”
Not my smoothest moment—but there was truth underneath it.
Different decks, like different translations or books, offer different language, imagery, and angles of reflection. They don’t replace one another. They add texture.
And again—the authority doesn’t live in the deck.
It lives in discernment.
God Was Never Confined to One Channel
Here’s the conclusion I’ve come to, slowly and honestly:
God is not fragile.
Truth does not need to be protected by fear.
And divine guidance is not limited to one medium.
If God can speak through Scripture, a sermon, a conversation, or a quiet moment in nature, then God can also speak through reflection, imagery, and intuition.
The question isn’t where the message comes from.
The question is what it produces.
Does it lead toward love?
Does it foster humility, clarity, and compassion?
Does it deepen connection rather than inflate ego?
If it does, then I trust it.
Learning to Trust Again
Using oracle decks didn’t pull me away from God.
It brought me back to listening.
It helped me unlearn fear-based spirituality and relearn trust—both in the divine and in myself. It reminded me that intuition isn’t something to conquer or suppress. It’s something to cultivate.
I don’t believe every tool is for every person. And I’m not here to convince anyone to adopt my practices.
I’m simply sharing what helped me reconnect with guidance in a way that feels grounded, honest, and life-giving.
Take what resonates.
Leave what doesn’t.
And trust that learning to listen again is not a betrayal of faith—but often a return to it.