“Do you hear what I hear?”
It is a little early for Christmas music, but that old Christmas song has been running through my mind this morning.
I am sitting in my new little 4-by-6-foot office, practicing my pastor emeritus skills. Apparently one of those skills is sitting still long enough to notice what is going on around you. After years of meetings, sermons, phone calls, hospital visits, committee reports, and somebody always needing to know where the extension cord is, sitting quietly feels almost suspicious.
But this morning, I am listening.
Right now, the church building is silent. That will change soon.
Today is the first day of school for our preschool children. We have 104 children enrolled, which means that in a little while this silence is going to disappear. I expect to hear laughter, crying, little feet running down hallways, teachers giving instructions, parents saying goodbye, and perhaps one child announcing loudly that he absolutely does not intend to participate in whatever has been planned for him.
In other words, I expect to hear life.
And I cannot wait.
While I sit here listening for those sounds, another question occurs to me:
What are we listening for? And who are we listening to?
Jesus talked a surprising amount about listening.
Again and again he said, “Let anyone with ears listen.” He told his disciples to pay attention to what they heard. And in John’s Gospel Jesus described his relationship with us this way: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.”
Apparently discipleship involves more than talking.
That includes prayer.
We usually think of prayer as talking to God, and certainly it is. We bring God our worries, hopes, fears, families, decisions, illnesses, disappointments, and dreams. We pray because we believe God listens and responds because God loves us.
But here is the harder question:
After we finish talking, do we listen?
Sometimes my prayers resemble leaving a voicemail for God.
“Lord, here are the problems. Here is what I need. Here is what I think you ought to do. Thank you very much. Amen.”
Click.
And then I am off to the next thing.
Maybe prayer occasionally needs a little silence at the end.
“Speak, Lord. I’m listening.”
Perhaps God’s answer will come through Scripture. Perhaps through another person. Perhaps through an unexpected thought, a nudging of conscience, a door opening—or closing. And sometimes God may simply give us the quiet assurance that we are loved and that we do not walk alone.
Soon the hallway will be filled with 104 little reminders that silence does not last forever.
But for this moment, it is quiet.
So I am listening.
Listening for children.
Listening for life.
Listening for God.
There is great joy in discovering that amid all the noise of this world, the Shepherd is still speaking.
The question is not only, “Do you hear what I hear?”
The better question may be:
Are we listening?
