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Does God still speak? I grew up hearing testimonies about it, but until October 2005, I couldn't say it had ever happened to me.

I'm a middle-aged professor of theology at a well-known Christian university. I've written award-winning books. My name is on Christianity Today's masthead. For years I've taught that God still speaks, but I couldn't testify to it personally. I can only do so now anonymously, for reasons I hope will be clear.

A year after hearing God's voice, I still can't talk or even think about my conversation with God without being overcome with emotion. That's one reason I know it was real; I'm not a person who shows emotion easily. Plus, I'm a skeptic about things supernatural. Not that I don't believe they can happen; I just doubt most miracle stories except the ones in the Bible. I've even been known to criticize publicly what I consider to be overly experiential forms of Christianity. I suppose that makes this story especially ironic.

About five years ago, my wife and I visited an elderly and very sick man who had once been our pastor. We discovered that he and his wife lived not far from us, and we renewed our old acquaintance. During one of our first visits, the man's grandsons—14-year-old twins—came for a visit. The moment I met them, an inner voice told me that some day I would play a role in one of their lives. I brushed it off as a "brain hiccup" and thought little more of it.

During the next five years, we drew closer to that family and got to know the twins well. Gradually, one of them shared with us his call to the ministry of music.

When the twins were 17, they and their parents visited us and toured the campus where I teach. The one called to music ministry was immediately struck with the impression he was to attend this particular university and none other. Over the next year, it became clearer to us that he was very serious. As far as I could tell, it had nothing to do with the fact that I teach there; he was following an inner tug of divine guidance.

But my university is expensive, and his family is of modest means. During his senior year of high school, he applied for scholarships, but the results were not encouraging. Still, his enthusiasm for studying for ministry at this university didn't flag.

I felt a strong burden to help him, but contrary to popular perception, Christian university professors are not prosperous. And my book royalties had never added up to any large amounts.

One bright and beautiful morning in October 2005, I went out alone, walking and praying. I began to cry out to God for my young friend. "Oh, God, please use me to make it possible for him to go to this university!" I don't know what I expected to happen, but I committed to letting God use me however he wanted to on this young man's behalf.

The next week, I was at the same spot in my morning exercise when something amazing happened. Out of the blue, a book title came to me. It was so clever I knew two things instantly: It wasn't mine, and it would sell.

Then, in almost the same instant, the entire outline of the book was there in my mind. Every chapter and its title. No discursive thought preceded it. I immediately went home and began writing. As I wrote, I had the distinct feeling that this was not me. I had never written like this before. The words poured out. Two weeks later, a 200-page manuscript sat on my desk. I knew it was good.

But what to do with it? I had never before written a book without a contract. As I sat and looked at the printed pages, the name of a well-known Christian book publisher suddenly came to mind. I had never dealt with the company before, but I had met the chief editor at professional society meetings. I felt directed to contact him, even though I knew the publisher's procedure for considering book proposals and manuscripts was quite different and more complicated.

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March 2007, Vol. 51, No. 3