I told my dad that I was sick of hearing my own voice. He said he understood and would write something for me this week……so he wrote about listening. I’ve always been a better talker than listener, so this one’s for me, but I hope you enjoy it too.
LISTENING
There was an old owl who sat in an oak,
The more he saw, the less he spoke.
The less he spoke, the more he heard,
Why can’t we be more like that old bird?
The only citation I can give to the above piece of doggerel is that it was displayed on a plaque in one of the examining rooms of the late Dr. Garrett Kinley, our family physician of many years ago. I found myself there occasionally, waiting quietly and alone, knowing that I was in for a story, a shot or maybe even a scolding. (“You better get some of that weight off!”) Three good things came of those visits: We developed a wonderful friendship, he kept me from dying of whatever the current complaint was, and the message on the wall made a lasting impression.
Listening does not come naturally for many us because of our perceived personal mental acuity. Oh me! If only other people could know what I know, have the common sense that I have or the impeccable wisdom that has come from my experiences. To their loss, most people just can’t compete with all the smart stuff I have to share. If only they would just let me talk, listen and take my advice. My! How much better the world would be!?! Something irks me really bad. If I am suffering from a severe bout with lumbago, the gout or just a runny nose, I can’t even complain without being rudely interrupted with that stale line, “I know just how you feel.” No, they don’t know just how I feel because they stopped listening and started talking. It reminds me of another piece of great poetry that I can properly cite. It came from the pin and mouth of Dr. Robert Scott, a former general church administrator and retreat speaker:
She catalogued her allergies, she told me all her ills,
Exactly what the Doctor said…the shots she took…..the pills.
I made the fatal error, I should have said “Hello”.
Instead, I asked “How are you?” and the lady let me know.
Well, its confession time. I (yes I do mean me; myself) have been guilty of turning off my listening apparatus and, too quickly engaging my natural megaphone. What another is saying seems to cause a short-circuit between what I should be hearing and what I need to interrupt and say. My tongue engages quickly as if there is a direct impulse that does not circuit through my mind and my manners. As I sit her pondering my plight, I feel so all alone knowing that I am the only person who has this problem. Poor me! L
Hopefully, by now, that L has changed into a J for both of us and you see a bit of facetiousness and irony as I am trying to gently rope you, gentle reader, into my dilemma without being to presumptuous or unkind. If you see a bit of yourself in my personal confession then my intent has been accomplished. I think that many of us are better talkers than we are listeners.
In my years of pastoral ministry, I have sat behind my desk listening to all kinds of personal “organ concerts.” Some were so shallow and trivial that I could easily see the symptoms of a life that is so “crisis oriented” the day could hardly be lived unless there is the proverbial “tempest in the tea pot.” It puzzles me how some seem to need to constantly live on that edge, i.e., a manufactured or imagined crisis. On one occasion, and in my impatience, I asked a lady if dealing with her crisis could be put off until tomorrow. When she questioned “Why?” my cynical response was, “Because you will have a brand new crisis tomorrow.” I don’t recommend that kind of counseling to anyone and looking back, I’m not too proud of my lack of patience and professionalism.
But, on the other hand, there were the profound hurts, the questions, the confusion, the hopelessness and loneliness that needed an attentive, loving and confidential hearing. Many are the times I have uttered to my cognitive self, “Shut up and listen!” Two simple tenets of emotional healing are honesty and transparency . Too often the therapy can be thwarted by trying to solve the perceived problem by a verbal solution when attentive listening would be the best therapy of all.
Now…..here is the irony of ironies…. I have the floor so listen up! I have a few things I’d like for you to hear:
1) Listening is learned skill. If it doesn’t come naturally, one can become more skilled
by recognizing its importance and exercising the necessary discipline It’s amazing
what we can hear if we could be “like that old bird.” And please be aware –
sometimes body language sends the message more clearly than verbal language.
2) One does not have to be a lettered and licensed counselor to employ this healing
therapy. Silence can’t be misquoted and utters no bad advice. At the same time, a
forum for non-threatening ventilation by an understanding and empathetic friend
might just be the dose of medicine another needs.
3) The Spirit and the Word speak more clearly in our silence. And when the Counselor
speaks it is with authority that is difficult to challenge or refuse. When we do refuse
and disobey we have only ourselves to blame for the consequential mess.
St. John, the beloved apostle and conveyor of the REVELATION records our Lord’s messages to the seven churches of Asia in chapters 2 &3. In each of these letters the concluding admonition is “He who has ears, let him hear what the Spirit says……” This is a pretty good lesson in listening from an authoritative teacher.
Indulge me one more foray into faux egotism and humor. With my vast expertise in all things political, social, philosophical, theological, behavioral, financial, mechanical, sports (WPS), whatever, shouldn’t I speak up on every issue and give the final word in every conversation? NO! NO! and NO! I need a few friends, especially as the time draws nearer to find some volunteers to serve as my pall bearers.
Have a quiet Lord’s Day,
Bryan Jones
