
“Let every person be quick to hear…” – James 1:19
My kids had been assigned the dreaded chore: clean your rooms. And a cleaning did those rooms ever need.
So imagine my delight when I don’t see my daughter in her room, accomplishing the required task. Instead, I find her upstairs, where she appeared to be playing with her toys. Immediately, I jump into lecture, reminding her of what she should be doing and threatening, again, the consequence if neglected.
“But mom, I am cleaning. I’m putting away the toys that were in my room.”
Oh.
Quick to listen is a skill that is so inherently unnatural. Our bent is always to speak, to defend, to explain. But listening is so important to develop, so important for relationship. And it is so important to model.
We live amid constant opportunity to speak – endless platforms to voice our opinion, unlimited conversations to join in. The noise is deafening, but the intake is scarce. Everyone is speaking, but few are listening.
Whether it is a chore that seems to be ignored or an offensive worldwide broadcast, we live ready to attack. Ready to prove our case.
Yet what might it look like for the Church to step in, for the people of God to start prompting questions, to value understanding and humility, to put others above ourselves? What if we started in our own homes?
The point is never to condone sin or justify wrongdoing, but sometimes we’re so quick to point out faults, we lose the wisdom in our approach.
Consider the fall. God himself started with a question when Adam and Eve first disobeyed. “Where are you?” he asked [1]. Except we know that God knew. He saw everything.
Adam and Eve were entirely in the wrong. There was nothing they could say to give themselves leverage or lessen the weight of the upcoming consequence. But God prompted four questions before he put forth the curse he had warned.
When we approach relationships with questions, we have a chance to acquire information we might not know. We need that, for all practical purposes. But if being quick to listen was only about collecting information, God wouldn’t need to demonstrate it himself.
Yet he chooses to. Because he cares for us.
Jesus, the image of the invisible God, prefaces so many teaching opportunities with questions. And again, we know he isn’t asking to collect new information. He’s asking to challenge motives, to engage deeper, to expose the hearts of his people that maybe the people would see his. That they would fall into the embrace that he’s extending.
For on the cross, Jesus cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me [2]?” The Father turned his back on his son. He closed his ears to his cries, that he might keep them open for us.
Romans chapter five explains, “since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ” [3]. God not only hears our every cry, but he has already made us right with himself. We have nothing left to prove. Our need to speak, defend and explain ourselves also died the day of the cross, because we were welcomed in as sons. Heirs with Christ. We can go forth as listeners, as hearers, as ones who have capacity to love and sacrifice, because we have been justified. We have been filled.
I entirely misread the situation that day of the room cleaning. But I have also very rightly read the situation other times. I like to think the latter scenario is most common. Either way, as I learn to start with questions, learn to be quicker to listen, I learn to step back. To step out. It’s not perfect, but it’s a process, and as it is learned it is also taught. And as it is taught, it is learned.
[1] Genesis 3:9
[2] Mark 15:34
[3] Romans 5:1
[4] John 15:15
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