Things My Children Are Teaching Me: Listening Skills

"I want to be a good listener!"

Bottom planted on the last step, she stomps her feet. Thuds reverberate across our old wooden floor.

When that doesn't get my attention she flops over like a rag doll beating her fists, shouting it again.

It has become her go-to phrase. Code for "I don't want to be in time-out." But there we are again, sitting on the stairs.

"Why didn't you listen to me?"

She glares at me. I glare back.

"I forgot," she says, innocence washing over her face.

"You forgot."

"I want to be a good listener now."

"If I had a nickel..." I contemplate whether to keep arguing or walk away so she can stew for a minute.

I want to scream. At her, at the wall, I just want to scream.

"Why can't you just obey?" I wonder, forcing my lips shut. "Why can't you just follow the simplest instructions?"

Behind eyes that plead for mercy, and despair in her tiny voice, I see anger and contempt. Her words feign compliance, but we've been through this dog and pony show before. She wants to do her thing.

Right there, in the middle of our showdown, it happens again.

It always happens right in the middle of things.

I'm not sure what to call it yet... an awareness... a lightbulb moment... though it's far more than a strange feeling or a new thought.

It's a flash of conversation, between God and I. He, showing me, what a fool I am. The error of my ways.

"You do the same thing," he points out.

"No I don't." I list off a good many ways I've been obedient, even faithful.

"Only when you want to be," he says.

I pause.

"You obey me in the big things, but you're slacking off in the small things. Things you decide are not such a big deal. Things that don't appeal to you. You busy yourself. You're not listening."

Ughhh.

I finish up with my child, who has a face so much like mine, and send her on her way.

I sit there for a minute. My turn on the stairs.

"Will you show me what I need to be working on? I think I forgot."

"Sure," he says.

"Will you help me see when I have my blinders on?"

"Of course," he says.

"Stay with me?" I ask.

"Yep," he says.

Simple. Ordinary. Every day. Beautiful.

I’m drawn to the concept that we participate with all of creation in proclaiming God’s glory, and that we are the caretakers of the earth. Theologians call this Creation Care.

I sipped the rest of my coffee as I thumbed through my textbook. The wind flickered over my pages, but I was just grateful to be outside before the weather turned. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of yellow and heard a thump behind me. There it lay on the cold cement. It strained to move, but could hardly roll over. 

My heart lurched and without thinking I went to it. I can't just let it lay there.

I held it close to my chest, shielding it from the wind. What now? I thought. I gingerly stroked it's head, and reassured it that everything was fine. I suppose I talked to it the way you might talk to a puppy. I hoped the sound of my voice, and the warmth in my fingers might help. 

It was incredibly stunned, but eventually came to and started looking around. 

I pushed away feelings that I was doing something totally weird, and in that moment became keenly aware that God was present. Right there, with me and the bird.

I’m not sure how else to describe it. I was full of love and inexplicable joy.

There we sat, and I marveled.

The bird and I were both created to glorify God, and God was sustaining the bird and I in every way. 

I couldn’t help but think that the tiny helpless bird in my hand was also a picture of me in the hand of God.  

I thought of the psalmist who asked of God, Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings. (Psalm 17:8)

I reflected on the beautiful old hymn penned by Fanny Crosby, 

He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock

That shadows a dry, thirsty land

He hideth my life in the depths of his love

And covers me there with his hand

But mostly I just sat there with the bird, keenly aware that the bird and I were doing what we were made to do. The bird was glorifying God by its very existence. It lives and breathes and learns to fly. It builds a nest and seeks out its food. Everything it does is an act of worship. A beautiful song of praise to the One who created it. It is magnificent. 

The same goes for me and you. 

Simple. Ordinary. Every day. Beautiful.

We get to join the birds, and the flowers, and the rain, and the oxygen, and live a life of proclamation. 

God is good, and he has created great things. He is truly magnificent.

I eventually held my hand up, no longer in a shielded position but trying to encourage the bird to take flight. 

And off he flew.

Servant of Who?

Jon walked in the door after a week-long conference and handed me a little devotional on Romans. It had been a long week alone with the girls, and I was grateful for a chance to refresh and refocus.

I tumbled in, but didn't get far. Chapter 1, verse 1 stopped me.

Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God.

I read it a few time. 

Paul, a servant.

I thought about the word, and what it means to be one. 

I pictured someone in a king's castle, waiting quietly beside a throne for directions. Or busy working on the day's tasks. I let my mind wander a bit. 

Mostly though, I pictured someone waiting for direction.  

I thought about my life, and if daily activities reflected the role.  

We call him King Jesus. We believe God sits on a throne. In our prayers we say "Lord," and we ask him to order our days. 

But the question stood. Am I servant-like?

My pausing left me reflecting on my own habits. 

What a Servant Really Looks Like

What would if look like if I consistently lived out this role of servant? I sat with the question for a while.

I've always viewed "servanthood" as willing to help out when needed. But honestly, does a servant show up when needed?  Or does a servant show up and wait for directions?  

I think it's the latter.

I think we've got some messed up, backwards theology.  

What I mean is this: We have this impression that God is for us. And this is about us. We've twisted things around, making God the servant - expecting him to be waiting to help us in every need. 

We expect God to love us, and meet all our needs, and hear our cries, and help us get through life. 

And yeah, he basically does all those things.  I mean, kinda. (There is more to this idea, but that will have to be a discussion for a different day.)

I'm not saying we shouldn't expect those things from God. That's not the point.

The point is that those things are not the point.  

They are not the purpose.  

Our faith shouldn't be about what God is doing for us, and sometimes we make it about us. 

We get it backwards.  

We're supposed to be the servants.  Waiting on God.  Listening for his instruction.  Hanging out as he shows us his plans.  

*Raise your hand if you forgot that today.*

I love the end of the book of John, where Peter has denied Jesus three times, and Jesus comes back to confront him about it. Essentially, Peter had a moment where he decided to ditch his allegiance to Jesus, and worry about himself.  

Raise your hand, because #dailystruggle. 

Jesus asked Peter what he was going to choose. To decide where his allegiance lay - whether he was going to follow, or go his own way.  

You can hear the awkwardness in their exchange. Remember, they were the closest of friends, and Peter had bailed.


Catch what they say in John 21:15-19.

Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” (He was talking about his vocation/career/personal fulfillment.)

“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.”

Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.”

The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?”

Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.”

Jesus said, “Feed my sheep. ...Then he said to him, “Follow me!”

Jesus wanted to know if Peter was going to show up and wait for directions. Jesus had a big job for Peter, but he needed Peter to understand that he didn't come to meet Peters needs and give him a better life. He needed Peter to get to work.

What Does It Look Like To Be A Servant?

Let's be careful about how we organize our days.  Just like Jesus was asking for Peter's allegiance, and obedience, Jesus asks for ours.

Allegiance and obedience looks a lot like being a servant.  Waiting for direction.  Staying close, for whatever need might arise.

Before we throw up a quick prayer that God will help us get through our day, or help us find our keys (so guilty, every day), and then run off to tackle our day, let's stay close.

Let's stay listening.

Let's stay waiting. 

Let's stay asking what God needs from us.  

I can tell you from experience, this takes practice. Sometimes we don't hear right away, or it doesn't seem like God is listening to our request, or answering our prayer.  Most likely, it's because we just need to practice waiting and listening.  

Practice it while you're brushing your teeth.  Lord Jesus, I am your servant.  How can I serve you today? 

Practice it while you're filling the dishwasher.  Precious Father, what do you need from me today? 

Practice it while you're riding the elevator or sitting at a light.  God Almighty, what do you want to change in my thoughts and habits, so I can be a better reflection of you? 

Practice it while you're screaming at your children to be quiet.  Sweet Holy Spirit, help me not to kill them today... wait, that was just a joke!  But seriously, I can always take parenting advice from the Holy Spirit, if I take the time to listen. 

I encourage you to spend a few moments every day for the next week, waiting on the direction of the Lord. See what he unfolds for you. I'd love to hear how this goes for you, as we seek God together.

You are loved!

What a Trip to the ER Taught Me about Emotional Wounds

It had been a lazy morning, and after coffee, and playtime, and making a list of all we planned to accomplish for the day, I was finally getting dressed, when my phone rang.

"You need to take me to the ER."

"What happened?" I wondered, as I rushed downstairs.

When I got outside Jon grinned sheepishly at me, covered in dirt and sweat, with blood running down his leg and splattered all over the grass.

Tearing out an old ramp on our property, he had stepped down on a piece of jagged wood, slicing open a quarter-sized piece of skin on his calf.  Eww, I know. 

This wasn't what we had planned for our Memorial Day holiday, but, leaving a blood-soaked shoe in the grass, we headed for the ER.

The worst part was cleaning the wound. Dipping a sponge in solution, the nurses carefully disinfected around the wound, and the wound itself. He was grimacing something fierce, eyes shut tight, clenching his whole body in pain.  My mama bear instincts kicked in, and I found myself furiously kneading his shoulder, which was no help at all, except to make me feel a little better!

Stitched and bandaged, we headed home. I thought about wounds as we drove in silence.  On our bodies, and in our hearts.

If we hadn't gone to the ER, or cleaned out that big gash in his leg, it probably would have gotten infected, which would have led to other problems.  Despite all the pain he went through, choosing not to clean out that wound would have been a terrible decision.

We're so careful to attend to wounds on our bodies. Even through the pain, we clean them and bandage them, applying healing salve, or stitches, or sometimes just a tiny bandaid with a princess on it. Science and life experience have taught us that we have to act quickly, and we have to push through the pain, or we will have a bigger problem on our hands.

We know what we need to, and we do it whether we want to or not.

Unlike our physical wounds, we usually don't respond with the same sense of urgency to the wounds of our heart.

We nurse our aching hearts, letting our wounds fester, poisoning our thoughts and leaking into our attitudes and actions. Instead of attending to the hurts that plague us, we sit with our pain and brood over how hurt we are. Or we tell ourselves we're not that hurt, and shove our feelings away.

Can we shine a light on our hearts for just a minute?

Sitting in our pain, brooding over our hurt does us no good at the end of the day.  It is actually harmful. Like my daughters who beg me not to clean their ouchies, we spend wasted energy in fear of our own pain, and would rather leave our wounded heart gaping open than go through the painful process of cleaning out the ickies (yes, that is a technical term) inside us.

But it is just as dangerous to tell ourselves that we shouldn't be hurt by something, and try to ignore the hurt without processing through our grief or pain, as it is to acknowledge our pain without dealing with it.

It is important to know when to let something go, and when to recognize that we've been hurt.

If we don't, at some point, everything will boil over, causing more pain and grief.

Whether our pain comes from life's unexpected twists and turns, from the hand of another, or from our own inner voice, dealing with it always brings healing. Healing allows us to walk in freedom - strong, capable, and at ease.

Thankfully, we don't have to clean out our wounded hearts by ourselves.  Thank goodness we have a Comforter, the precious and gentle Holy Spirit, who reveals just how badly we are scraped up on the inside, and then gently helps us to clean out all that has caused our pain, binding us up again so that we can walk upright in healing and wholeness.

So what do you say, dear child of God? Will you join me in the brave and bold steps toward a cleaned-out, mended heart?  The first step is to say, "Lord, show me my heart. Help me to see what needs to be healed." And then let him lead from there.

You are loved!

P.S. I would love to pray for you! If you need someone to pray with you, please don't hesitate to ask!

When God Calls

I took a break from writing. I felt the nudge to step away for a while and do some listening.

For the girl who has always had something to say, I have found myself with nothing to say.

Heart quiet.  Mind still.

It's not so much that there is nothing to say... no, it's not that at all.

The choice to stop talking and start listening allowed me to move into a closeness with God that has been feeding my soul in new ways.

Last summer, over coffee, I told a close friend I was getting the sense that God was inviting me into a new stage.  The simplest way I could describe it was to compare my journey to a level on a video game - I had gone as far as I could in the level I was on, and it was time to go further.

I had this picture that stuck with me - I was walking by a wall that went on as far as I could see in either direction, too high for me to see over.  It was covered with ivy and overgrown bushes, and behind the weeds and branches I found a door.  I sensed it was time to go through the door, only I wasn't sure how to open it, or what would be on the other side.

On this break from writing I took steps to reevaluate my habits and refocus my thoughts. I am learning to quiet my heart, and to wait on the promptings of God.  To shift the focus of my prayers from me to Him.  I also read a lot, seeking the wisdom of others much wiser than myself. The book Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster was instrumental in renewing my desire to spend time with the Lord, and the book You Are What You Love by James K. A. Smith changed my perspective on my daily habits tremendously.

Out of this, a really cool thing has happened. Prayers asking for God to change me and guide the direction of my life faded, as I started praying to God about who He was. Don't get me wrong, those old prayers were good, and helpful. Still, God was calling me deeper, and it was time for new prayers.  He faithfully guided me in this new direction.

The longer I spend focusing on God, the more I want to know Him.  The more I know him, the more in awe of Him I became.  Even my Bible reading has become more enriching as He speaks to me through His Word.

The foretelling of Jesus in the book of Isaiah struck me deeply.  To picture Jesus, with nothing attractive in his outward appearance, and yet, for 2,000 years people have been so drawn to Him.  My prayer became a desire for people to be attracted to me because they sense the love of Jesus resonating from me, rather than because of any outward attraction that I might hold.

The story of the Israelites in a 40 year journey through a desert, following a cloud, impressed on my heart the need to stay directly under the instruction of the Lord, and how much He cares about the provisions we need along the journey. We know the stories of how the Lord delivered the people out of slavery, and provided food and water, ultimately leading them to their own land of freedom. It never occurred to me that they literally stayed under the pillar of cloud and fire, and only moved when it moved. I think about how different their story would have been if they decided they were done following the cloud, and set off on their own. Part of me wouldn't have blamed them - a year seems like a long time to sit under a cloud! But God provided and protected under that cloud. I have a richer understanding of guidance and obedience because of this story, and it makes me re-evaluate my own desires and plans. Am I following the direction of the Lord? Am I asking where it is He is leading me?

It was even good to be reminded He created each star in our vast universe. Nothing is lost to Him.

I am humbled and satisfied by this newfound presence, as I am more keenly aware of His constant nearness.

I find myself praising Him for the billowing clouds that roll overhead, and the tiny blades of grass that never cease to sprout up in the perfect shade of green.  I praise Him for the bees, marveling in His perfect plan to pollinate our plants all over this green earth through these tiny creatures.

I thank Him for His provisions, as He always seems to go before us, anticipating our every need.

My prayers used to revolve around me.  My fears, my needs, my wants, and my emotions.  But after shifting my focus off of me and on to Him, I have found my fears have faded, my needs and wants are an afterthought, and my emotions steady.  I am simply in awe of who He is.

I think this is called peace.

We seem to be hardwired to seek satisfaction, and we run after it our whole lives - both in healthy and unhealthy ways.  The longer I sit in the lap of the Father, the more I marvel that the truest satisfaction is found in Him.