Remember to Listen

“A voice from the cloud said, ‘This is my dearly loved Son, who brings me great joy. Listen to him.’”  (Matt.17:5 NLT)

Many of us have a tradition of choosing a word for each year that will guide us as we venture into the uncharted territory of another circle around the sun.

The word I chose—or the word that chose me—for 2020 was “listen.” I felt God encouraging me to hear others better. I knew our country faced division over multiple issues, and I knew my siblings in Christ felt differently than I did about some of these issues. I wanted to hear stories. I needed to pay attention first, before declaring my own beliefs and defending my own positions. So, I thought, I would choose to listen first and better in 2020.

It seems so cute now, my January naïveté.

I had no idea.

I had no idea I’d listen to story after story that resembled my own of graduations missed, grandparents unhugged, dreamed and saved-for trips canceled. I didn’t know the helplessness of listening to tales of lost loved ones, unable to even touch the hand of the speaker to confirm I was, indeed, hearing her words.

I had no idea I’d listen to the fears of congregation members who worried for their health, their parents, their jobs, their kids’ schooling. I’d never prepared for pandemics in seminary counseling class. No one taught me how to help an entire church filled with anxious people who were exhausted from existing. Listening itself became exhausting, but necessary, especially when presence has been impossible.

I had no clue that one hallmark of 2020 would be erupting racial tension, which would require listening to stories I’d rather not hear and feelings I previously hadn’t—in my privileged bubble—understood. I didn’t know those feelings sat beneath the surface of every black life in America, but I would need to listen and take in this truth if I was going to be like Jesus. Listening to people of color became incredibly important in 2020, as it should have been well before that. For my failure, I had to repent and listen harder.

I didn’t know I’d be listening to children fearful for their futures, seeing things they’d worked hard for crumble under forces they couldn’t control.

“Listen” hasn’t been the exercise in quiet understanding I assumed it would be. It’s been, in fact, what God meant for listening to be all along. Active work.

Shema, the Hebrew word for “listen,” appears in the Old Testament 1,050 times. It’s almost as if God knows we’re not very good at it. But Shema doesn’t mean what we mean when we say we “hear” something. Sure, it does include sound waves coming into our ears. Hebrew verbs, though, are active. They don’t usually end with a passive non-action. For example:

“Hear, O Isreal: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. . . . Hear the decrees and laws I am about the teach you.” (Deut. 6:4, 4:1 NLT)

To listen or hear meant to pay attention to and even to obey what was heard. Another translation might be “an effective hearing.” What does effect mean but action in reaction to some cause? No one expected that hearing these commands simply meant knowing they existed. The audience knew it meant doing something about them.

The scriptural meaning of listen is so much more than simply hearing. Biblical listening requires us to turn around, focus on what we’re hearing, pay attention, and then act on what we’ve heard. Obedience follows hearing, or we didn’t really listen. James says the same: “But don’t just listen to God’s word. You must do what it says. Otherwise, you are only fooling yourselves.” (James 1:22 NLT)

Fooling ourselves makes us useless in the kingdom of God, as those who can’t or won’t see can’t lead others toward truth and light.

Though I didn’t expect my little word, “listen” to mean so many heavy things this year, perhaps I should have. I should have known that when I embarked on a path of listening, God would ensure that action followed. If we’re intent on listening, we should expect to hear things we don’t like. Harsh, dissonant, and painful words are all around us. Listening well means we need to seek them out and act to relieve them if we’re really ready to hear.

Listening also means we strive to take in the good words, as that is equally important. In 2020, I often heard God telling me to be still. I heard the quietness of life without rush. We had no places to go or people to see, and that made for listening of a different kind.

We collectively paused, and in that silence, God tried to get our attention. Listen, remember, also means to pay attention or focus. If I’m making noise, in my head or heart or spirit, I’m not listening. My word taught me the art of stillness, and in that stillness, I learned the most important thing.

I learned that if I do not listen to God in the stillness, I cannot obey God in the noise.

More than ever, that word still matters. In 2021, it will continue to matter, as factions continue to hear only themselves. Listening to one another is the only way we will begin to put together what’s been torn to pieces into a new, better fabric.

As we begin, we hope, to return to a life of “normal,” we’ll be tempted to turn back to all the things that validated us before. Busyness, activity, and noise will call to us with their siren songs of self-worth, and we’ll have to remember what we heard in the silence.

I don’t know what word will choose me in the new year. I do know, though, that listen is going to stick around for the long haul. I need to remember to listen.

Jill Richardson is a writer, speaker, pastor, mom of three, and author of five books. She likes to travel, grow flowers, read Tolkien, and research her next project. She believes in Jesus, grace, restoration, kindness, justice, and dark chocolate. Her passion is partnering with the next generation of faith. Jill blogs at jillmrichardson.com.

Photograph © Mary Taylor, used with permission