I don’t always listen very well, and yet, I’m hearing all the time. The drone of everyday life can be measured in decibels.
In the morning, it begins. The normal din of noise begins to reach my ears. My wife’s blow dryer chimes in at 80 decibels. The cars leaving my cul de sac take off to work at 70 decibels as their automatic garage doors close at 50 decibels behind them. Just beneath my Starbucks order, the conversations take place between sips of lattes and 60 decibel conversations between friends and acquaintances.
I’m hearing right now. A storm moves through our area with a pretty heavy downpour splashing our roof at 60 decibels. Beneath that, our air conditioner chimes in at 40 decibels, and my wife and daughter catch an episode of Barefoot Contessa. Ina’s got a tasty recipe for oatmeal cookies with 1 cup of cranberries. 75 scrumptious decibels. And the clicking of my keyboard as I type my article? 35 decibels.
Hearing is automatic. I don’t even have to work hard. I’m naturally pretty good at it.
Listening? Physically it’s all the same, but, in spite of my ability to hear without much effort, listening is a struggle, in part, because I’m hearing all the time. Listening requires the same ears to catch the vibrations in the air, channel it into my ear canal, cross my ear drum, trigger the movement of tiny bones, stimulate the cochlea (which is too complicated for a right brainer like me to explain), and somehow register in the brain. I hear the clothes dryer, the running water from the faucet, the feet of my daughter climbing the latter to her loft bed. But I listen to a sweet, grooving bass line. I listen to my daughter’s whispers. I listen when someone answers my question.
And I think the difference is focus or intention. I’m hearing all the time, but I listen when I really want to listen. Granted, some things demand my attention; thunderclaps, a siren in the distance, my wife’s protest: “Are you listening to me?” So listening demands my attention and to listen, sometimes I have to pull away from other things that I’m hearing.
Jesus frequently withdrew from the disciples to spend time with the Father in prayer, and in Mark 9, He took Peter, James, and John, leading them up to a high mountain, where He was transfigured before them; awash in the fullness of His immeasurable glory. Elijah and Moses suddenly appear, speaking with Him. And Peter, James, and John experienced the full glory of Jesus in a limited moment in time.
Consider Peter’s response.
“Rabbi, it is good that we are here. Let us make three tents, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” Mark 9.4–5
Have you ever NOT known what to say? Peter speaks for the others and offers to build shelters for Elijah and Moses. “Guys, you’ve obviously had quite a trip. You might need a place to rest, a place for us to hear what you have to say to us.” Why did Peter say that? Verse 6 is kind of telling.
For he did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Mark 9.6
Sometimes we talk when the moment calls for something else. Sometimes we need to shut our mouths and open our ears. Heaven just touched Earth to the point of sensory overload and Peter tries to compensate for his fear with something clever sounding. But talking wasn’t appropriate. Listening was.
AND God’s voice thundered in an overshadowing cloud “This is my beloved Son; Listen to him.” Mark 9.7
Listen to Him! It’s that 2nd person command. “Give your attention to Him! Take it in! Take it seriously! Obey!” God’s love for the Son compels us fix our attention upon Jesus and listen to what He is saying. When a thousand other things can be heard, don’t merely hear the voice of the beloved Son. Listen to Him! Listen to the One loved by God, sent by God, and speaking for God!
For he whom God has sent utters the words of God, for he gives the Spirit without measure. John 3.34
How do you listen and not simply hear? We hear ambient, droning noise all the time, but listening to the beloved Son requires…
Captive Attention. Moments with Jesus are usually arresting and require other things to be put on hold. I’ve found that I reveal the value I place on my time in Jesus’ presence by my attention span. Does Jesus merit pieces of me or does He garner all of me in those moments when He speaks.
Closer Proximity. A still, small voice requires me to move in closer. I need to shut out other voices and quiet my heart from the droning of everything else. I hear the voice of the Son when I press in closer. Do I need to plan a fast? How can I protect my quiet time in private devotions?
How will you listen and not simply hear the Son of God?
Jared Anderson and Desperation Band really capture this well in Coming Your Way on their Everyone Overcome album.