Listen

We hear this word a lot. We don’t heed its call much, but we sure hear it— probably because we do it so poorly. I think we’re bad at listening because we live in a culture where a standard news or talk show format features four people talking over each other from a list of scripted points and calling that dialogue. The fact that these panels are made up of people with diverse opinions is supposed to give us the richness of learning from the other, but learning can’t happen when our mouths are open. Learning comes from listening. And frequently from hearing things that do no corroborate our own points of view.

The other day I was reading my newsfeed on Twitter. This Twitter stuff is all new to me and I’m just beginning to enjoy the gift of having access to the daily thoughts of some really great thinkers. Rick Warren, for example. I’ve never read his books but have read enough about him and the great work he’s done out of Saddleback Church to be a fan. The other day he had two tweets about listening.

“Novice pastors overvalue speaking skills. Veteran pastors know listening skills are just as vital to the growth of souls.” and “Great leaders are great listeners,refraining from assumptions & snap judgments.They also listen for what’s NOT being said.”

When we talk about listening, we’re not talking about times when someone’s telling a great story, or explaining something that’s of interest: we’re all fairly attentive listeners then. Even in the case of suffering, most of us are able to lend an ear to someone who needs to share their burden—- as long as they’re not saying we’re the cause of it, and as long as they get over it in what we deem a reasonable amount of time. No, the challenge in listening comes when the stakes are high, when the subject is not easy, when the outcome of the conversation is unclear. Or when our head is so full of our own needs, tasks and challenges— and when isn’t it?— that we can’t imagine making room for someone else’s. This is where we’re tested and most often fail. I think it’s because real listening requires us to put ourselves on hold. Just that. To take ourselves right out of the equation while we allow for the thoughts of another person, which may contradict— or even threaten— our own. Good listening means endeavoring to control the synapses in our brains so that we don’t process information in a kneejerk way, but hear the words in the way the speaker intends them, even if that person is not a good communicator. Maybe hardest of all, thoughtful listening means not interrupting, even when you have a really good point to make that you’ll likely forget if you don’t say it right this very minute. In terms of exertion, listening might well qualify as an Olympic sport.

I’m working on being a better listener. As with most things, the more you work at it, the more you’re aware of your own shortcomings. Another tweeter wrote this week that to talk more than you listen is to reveal your own insecurities. I think that may be true. But it’s tricky when what you do for a living— when what you feel called to do in life— is to use words and ideas, both printed and spoken, to communicate a message. In person, at least, I’m trying to use fewer. I have two great role models for this, both of them dead. But their words live on, ideas expressed in ways that were clear and succinct enough to transcend the ages and could easily feel at home in the Twittersphere:

“Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words,” St. Francis of Assisi said. It feels like a paraphrase of what the Gospel-writer John said a thousand years before. “I must decrease so that He can increase” (John 3:30).

Listen.