2012 was a most argumentative year.
By May, my bouquet had wilted. The tire dust clouding the long road relocating us from New Jersey to Tennessee settled back into the asphalt. We were both foreigners in the land now. But our political and religious views were anything but harmonious our first year of marriage.
His words were soft, but unrelenting. My arms crossed over my chest. My forehead scrunched together, and my voice blurted counterclaims I’d heard from the pulpit and the pundits.
But he wasn’t a talking head. He was my family. Still, I stood my ground and shielded my ears. I lobbed defense grenades at him trying to prove my side. It was the only side. Because it was God’s side. Right?
Whether it was or it wasn’t, God didn’t need a guard dog. But my husband needed to be heard.
Sometimes his words cheek-slapped my faith. Or blamed my politics for all kinds of oppression. Sometimes his words were layered with facts. Other words surprised me with emotion arising like an opera from his soul.
And the moment I stopped fielding every attack with a comeback, I could hear the song of his heart.
Finally his political views made sense. And his religion became less threatening. His “back home” stories became a delight. And we found we had way more in common than we didn’t.
So in order to hear anything, I had to stop taking everything so personal. We were both right and wrong in certain ways, but in order to hear him I had to relax my finger-curled-fists and let him explain.
Surprisingly, dropping our defenses didn’t kill us.
You will lose your faith, they say.
You will be suppressed.
Those people have an agenda, don’t you know?
The truth is, listening will make you vulnerable and open to change.
And I did change. But not in ways I feared. My faith grew stronger because I saw God hanging around outside of my Christian circles. I saw His blueprint on the lives and hearts of people who hadn’t yet felt the hug of Jesus. I heard His wisdom in the mouth of a woman I recently began calling “Mom.” I witnessed a hunger for a heavenly home in a people whose liturgy looked nothing like my own.
And like the grouchy ole green Grinch, my heart grew 10 sizes that year. Still, it continues to grow.
Loving to Listen
Listening with our guards down is uncomfortable. But it gives others room to breathe. They are allowed to inhale and exhale unabbreviated thoughts and ideas. And it gives us room think, evaluate and love instead of reacting and self preserving.
Listening to others is simply loving them. I abandon the ammunition of my opinion, surrender protective layers of body language, tone and snappy comebacks. And for the moment, I welcome the idea that I may be wrong about what I believe or understand about someone or something.
Instagram Challenge
This month on Instagram we initiated a Listening Challenge. Follow me there and take the challenge. It’s not too late.
Our first challenge was The God Challenge: pick a common, well worn verse and ask God to show you something fresh.
I chose James 1:19.
My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry,…
Fresh interpretation:
Don’t take it personal.
Even when emotions run high on both sides. Shut down your comebacks and offenses. Just hear him or her out until the end.
Truly listening is an act of unconditional love. The highest kind of love.
Take the Instagram challenge with us and learn how to hear better from God, your family and even your enemies. I provided some tips and tricks to help us along.
In learning to listen well, you might just love what (and who) you hear.
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