Listening. It’s where life happens. It’s where the leaves’ rustle and songbird’s song and squirrel’s scurry combine into nature’s symphony. It’s where shovel into dirt and dump truck wheels on concrete sing a boyhood masterpiece. It’s where God’s still small voice becomes loud enough to hear because I’m still.
Life is in the listening.
Without the listening there’s too much of me talking. Talking that tries to control little boys who were made for moments of wild. Talking that stir up frustration inside because controlling is futile—though training is fruitful. Inner talking that sounds like self pity and says poor me when the day is full of serving and I just want to be served.
But to listen…to listen is to hear the Spirit’s whisper reminder that I’ve already been served the greatest gift by the Greatest Servant. To listen is to hear my Jesus tell me how he was all poured out for me, his child, and if I pour myself out for his children, too, then he’ll fill me back up. Service is not for the poor but for the rich, so I am rich in spirit when I serve.
But some times, lots of times, I don’t listen. I don’t hear those sweet, true, convicting, redeeming, life-giving words because I don’t stop to listen.
Stop. Receive the gift. Listen.
Yes, LIFE is in the listening.