Learning to Listen
“If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame.” —Proverbs 18:13
This last week, I was so grateful for good doctors, midwives actually, who listen. Every time I go to my prenatal appointment, they sit, patiently and attentively, and listen. They ask questions, take notes, and make every effort to understand. Only then do they dispense diagnoses, prescriptions, or advice. Then at the end of each appointment, they always ask, “Do you have any questions at all? Is there anything else you wanted to talk about today?” I always leave feeling heard, understood, and cared for. I’m so grateful!
The Proverb above is one of the most oft-repeated in our home. Since Dutch was little, it’s been a go-to reminder that an over-eagerness to respond, answer, jump to conclusions, or advise, without listening first is a folly and shame.
Recently I was on my way to meet with someone, and on the way there I was considering what to pray for. It struck me afresh, what I really needed was understanding. “Lord, help me to really listen and really understand.” What I need, always, is the ability to actually understand where someone is coming from. Indeed, isn’t it the most frustrating feeling to have someone jump in, cut you off, finish your sentences (off-base), or brush off your words, thinking they already understand what you mean or feel?
Maybe it’s just me, but it can be a frustrating feeling. And I know I do it. I remember years ago reading a great book on how the importance of leaders learning to be good listeners. They nailed it when the authors explained that the goal is not to “be a good listener,” the goal is to understand others.
While it might seem like splitting hairs, one goal is self-focused, it’s centered on self, and as long as we’re centered on self, we’ll never learn to truly understand, empathize, and wisely counsel others. But if we can forget about our blessed selves, and not care whether or not we are a “good listener” but instead get busy putting all our effort into seeking understanding, we are well on our way to being a good spouse, counselor, confidant, and friend.
Recently, I had the privilege of listening in while several of Jeff’s friends affirmed him. He has some pretty amazing friends, so it was quite an experience, and I found myself wanting to say, “Yeah! What they said! I think that too I just can’t articulate it that well!” But the essence of what they were saying, which is remarkably high praise, was that Jeff actually listens and cares. He wants things for you, not just from you. He doesn’t dispense life-advice, assuming he knows what you need, he takes the time to hear, and, whenever possible, understand. I can attest—he does indeed do this well.
And I want to grow in it too. Just as it would be preposterous for you to walk into a doctor’s office, and before you said a word the doctor was already writing out a prescription, so it is equally inappropriate when we assume we know what other people need, or feel, without taking the time to truly hear them. To listen, and, Lord willing, to understand. Of course, to understand isn’t to agree; this practice certainly doesn’t mean we affirm every thought, habit, feeling, or behavior, but how much more effective is exhortation (and correction) when it has come slowly, only after thorough listening, caring, hearing.
The same principle can be applied to current events, politics, news, how we view the world. How often we jump to conclusions on some issue based on a headline, a Facebook post, a tweet. What if we were slower to take a hard stance, until we really did our due diligence to listen to the matter, to take the stance of a humble learner, rather than an already-expert.
Of course that’s just it, right? Listening takes humility. It takes humility to suspend judgment, to hear, to learn, to seek to understand. It’s so much quicker and easier to assume! But how blessed would be our marriages, friendships, churches, communities, if we all heeded this one simple Proverb: “If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame.”
{Endeavoring to grow in this, with you. Thanks for reading.}
F O R T Y
I remember, so clearly, being about 8 years old, and attending the 40th birthday party of our friend and pastor, Paul Hunter. All the balloons were black with “Over the Hill” printed on them. It was a great party, but I remember asking my mom, “What does ‘over the hill’ mean?” She explained, something about being done with the first half of your life, and my little mind filled in the rest. That means…
…the rest is downhill?
Yes, I was a sensitive child, but this distinctly bothered me. My own dad was several years older than Paul. Did this mean he was already on a steep descent? How could this be?
My, how things have changed. At least, in my perspective. Forty is young! True, I never dreamed that we’d celebrate Jeff’s 40th birthday today by anticipating the imminent birth of our baby (!), but I dare say there is nothing downhill about this man. He’s a climber, a fighter, a victor. No matter what physical strength comes and goes, his spirit is full of vim and vigor.
I have been struck this past year by this simple realization:
What the world values will decrease with age.
What God values can increase with age.
Charisma will wane. Stuff starts to sag. Jeff won’t always be the fastest guy in the race. I dare say my most beautiful days have long gone by.
But Jeff, my love, you are most definitely a more godly, wise, humble, courageous, selfless, faithful, and admirable man than you were 15 years ago when I pledged my life to be your wife.
But here’s the thing, and this is what makes me admire you the most:
This growth of godliness-with-age does not happen automatically.
Youthful foolishness, left unchecked, simply snowballs into aged foolishness.
It takes true strength not to become “set in one’s ways” but to grow in grace, humility, teachability, wisdom. It’s a trajectory of Christlikeness that will only increase with age.
Jeff, I see this trajectory in you.
Here you are: As I type these words I am sick in bed, sad and frustrated that I’m too sick to do much to celebrate your birthday. Most of our weekend plans have fallen through. I’m enormously pregnant, with a list of ailments as long as my leg and wishing I was a more fun wife for you right now. Not only that, but you are still recovering from a concussion! But instead of looking inward, you have selflessly, joyfully, and tirelessly served me. As we speak you are outside scrubbing the patio furniture because you know it would bless me. You are BBQing your own birthday dinner because I’m curled up on the couch. You are offering to attend to the ginormous rat that Dutch and his friend caught, but goodness knows I want nothing to do with it. You are keeping the kids outside so it can be quiet in here. And you are periodically checking on me, to see if I’m ok.
What man does that?
You. Because that’s what Jesus could probably have done, and every day you are growing more and more into his likeness.
It’s bittersweet today, I know. It’s not only your 40th birthday, it’s Father’s Day.
And it’s your first Father’s Day without your father.
And you are preaching and leading a church and a family today and recognizing milestones and preparing for a new baby and grieving the loss of your beloved dad. And just like that Little House episode we watched this week…we honor those we have lost by living in such a way that they would be proud.
I dare say you are doing just that. Your dad was always proud of you, and you continue to live in a way that would make him prouder than ever:
A wise son makes a glad father (Prov. 15:20).
He’d be gladder than ever to see you today.
And so, my love: Happy 40th birthday.
{May we all grow in wisdom, and make our Heavenly Father glad. Thanks for reading.}
When you feel like growling at God…
We were caught off guard the first time it happened. Our sweet, happy, laid back, never-barked-before dog lunged forward and growled at the little girl slowly approaching. Say what?!
She must have just been caught off guard, we thought. Give it time.
But it got worse. For the first week she was here, she was an angel. Happy to see everyone. Never barked. Absolutely fell in love with Heidi and adoringly followed her everywhere she went. I was so thrilled for her. After 18-mos of hoping and praying for a dog, Heidi had a newfound confidence, happily trotting off into the woods on her own, exploring, adventuring, happily sitting on the deck for hours, reading a book curled up next to her new furry best friend. Everything seemed perfect.
Then the growling increased. Not at us. Never at us. But at strangers. A couple days later she was downright snarling at any little unsuspecting visitors. But then when it was just our family she was her docile, sweet self, rolling on her back gleefully while Heidi snuggled up beside her. I figured it would get better, but then … a dear friend came by and in a split second, before we knew what was happening, she bit their poor little girl.
We were horrified. My friend was so gracious, but needless to say we were all upset, the poor little girl was terrified, and as soon as they left Heidi and I started sobbing. I knew what this meant—her new best friend could not stay. Our home has to be safe for visitors of all ages. Her answer to prayer was unraveling right before our eyes.
Now, I get that sometimes our emotional response seems extreme. But just the day before Jeff had been hit by a truck while riding his bike, so we were already dealing with a concussion, recovery, and some emotional upheaval, I’ve had insomnia so I hadn’t slept well in weeks, and I’m 8-mos pregnant (hello hormones!) … it was just the perfect storm. Heidi and I curled up together on the couch and cried.
And silently, I started growling at God.
I mean growling. See, my girl is something precious to me. She’s got faith like nobody’s business and she prays like she believes because she does. As long as she’s been able to clasp her hands together that girl has prayed for healing for her grandma.
And it hasn’t happened. Day after day, year after year she has prayed. And more times than I can count she has cried to me, late at night, “Why doesn’t God answer?!”
Oh sweet girl, I don’t know.
She prayed fervently for a little sibling, then was devastated by both miscarriages. (Thank you, Father for Justice! We believe he is coming!)
She prayed fervently for a pet, and in the meantime lost 3 cats, and now has adopted (and adored) two different dogs only to lose them both.
I know in the grand scheme these are small things, but it just felt like too much for her poor little heart. Especially considering we’ve also had four family deaths in the last two years. It just felt like every time we turned around someone or something was lost. It’s easier to not have something than to have it and lose it, again and again and again.
“Why?! God, why are you set on crushing her heart?! It feels like you are dead-set on destroying all trace of faith she has! Why are you doing this to her?! First my mom. Then the babies. Then the cats. Now the dogs. Why are you breaking her heart?!”
Silently, I growled.
I clutched my girl in my arms, wiping her tears. Hers slowly subsided but mine only increased. I couldn’t stop it, I was just overwhelmed with loyalty to her, wanting her happy, wanting an answer to prayer for her, so desperately wanting her to have something she prayed for.
I wrapped my arms around her, instinctively, protectively, guarding her…
Guarding her?
From what?
From … God?
I’d say guarding her from disappointment, from pain, from sorrow, from loss.
But could I be over-guarding her? So much so that I was actually growling at and guarding her from God?
A good friend texted, suggesting that I research the breed of dog and see if aggression was common.
Turns out, they are super happy, kid-friendly dogs…but over time, when they have a beloved owner they can become so loyal they’re over-protective, to the point of extreme aggression toward any perceived threat.
Loyal and over-protective? Extreme aggression toward any perceived threat?
Was I reading about Australian Shepherds or … me?
I had just been reading a book about raising daughters, and grappling with the reality of allowing God full access to my girl, even if it meant pain.
What’s interesting is: these dogs only act fierce “when they perceive themselves as ‘top dog’—that is, when they think it is their responsibility to guard and protect their owner.”
Do I think of myself as “top dog” around here? Do I really think it is up to me to guard my daughter from all perceived threats? Do I think I’m that important? That capable?
Do I think I’m God?
I opened my Bible. Psalm 33:20-21 was underlined from this morning’s reading,
“Our soul waits for the LORD; for He is our help and our shield. For our heart is glad in Him, because we trust in His holy name.”
Do I believe HE is our shield? Do I trust His holy name? Or do I think I am the help? That I am the shield?
I turned the page:
“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:18).
I want to guard my daughter from many things, but not from nearness to God. I do not wish broken-heartedness on her, on anyone, but I know that He loves her more than I can comprehend, and is working all things for her good, better than I could ever hope to. I have to believe this. He is top dog, and He will do the guarding. That is not my job. I am to pray, to guide, to counsel, and then … to trust.
To believe what I say, right here in this book, about disappointment. That God works it all, in the end, for glorious fulfillment.
I never, ever, ever, want to guard her from that.
{On the twisty, windy journey of faith with you. Thanks for reading.}
*BTW: We are all fine. Heidi’s furry buddy went back to his previous owners, and she handled it like a champ. I cried more than her! She actually wrote me a bday card saying, “We are all sorry to see Grizzly leave, but I’m sure she’ll be happy wherever she is…thank you for all the love and support you’ve given me. God has a plan!” And last night she told me, “Now remember, Mommy, no more tears!” Haha, 9-years-old and she’s basically discipling me these days. 😉 Jeff is recovering well, we have much to be grateful for.
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*LAST day (Sun) to get Sacred Mundane ebook for $1.99. Paper copies available here: https://squareup.com/store/sacred-mundane
3 ways to maximize summer learning
“Note to self: By mid-May you are just so done.”
This is a memo I left to myself, last year around this time, when I was army-crawling across the finish-line of school, joylessly trudging through the final obligatory lessons.
See, when the sun comes out and the natural world awakes, there are a thousand outdoor adventures to be had, and quite frankly no one wants to stay inside to study. Most of all me.
So while I respect the year-round homeschooling mentality, I’ve found for our family, we need summer. And this year, by a little better planning ahead, we were able to indeed finish our formal lessons by mid-May, and can I just tell you: It has been glorious!
But a summer break doesn’t mean we do nothing for three months.
Remember, a change is as good as a rest. Summer is one of the best times for learning, but not in the traditional sit-down-and-study sort of way. I’m finding that the best way for us to maximize summer learning isn’t by trudging through or quitting altogether, it’s through taking advantage of the unique opportunities summer affords and capitalizing on those. There are lots of ways, but here are three of my favorites: {Read the rest over at Simple Homeschool–thanks!} And remember Sacred Mundane ebook is only $1.99 through Sunday! And I have discounted paper copies available here: https://squareup.com/store/sacred-mundane
