Perhaps it's Time to Listen

“You couldn’t handle it.” These are the sobering words my African American friend responded with when I asked if we could get together early on in the Black Lives Matter movement. There had been another shooting and anger was like a spewing volcano ready to blow. 

“I just want to hear your heart,” I replied. Again she answered, “you couldn’t handle it,” ending the conversation abruptly. Why did she perceive me that way? This question hasn't left me.

I can remember a time when I was pretty sure about what everybody should be doing, how they should do it, and what their opinion and attitude should be. You guessed it, the same as mine. I still have to battle this lie.

I’m slowly realizing how much I do not know. My little bubble in the world is tiny. It’s white. And, it’s privileged. I have no idea what it’s like to live one moment in the life of:

• A single mom on welfare
• A person of color
• One addicted to anything besides sugar (and that’s dang hard to beat!)
• One from any religion other than Christian
• One who has lived or grew up in the foster system or lost their kids to it
• One in the LGBTQI community 
• One who lives with chronic pain; or one without good medical care (or medical care at all)
• One born in poverty
• Anyone who lives anywhere that I have never lived; across the world, or across the tracks
• Being truly hungry 

I’m stopping at 10. I could go on and on. I have a running list in my journal. 

What am I saying? Are we not to speak the truth in love to these ‘others’? You have to answer what that means for you. But, for me, the answer is no and yes and maybe. 

The questions that dig at me are: 
How can I speak the truth in love to someone I don’t know? 
How do I speak truth to someone I don’t love? 
How can I love someone if I’ve never listened to their story? 
What bread can I possibly share if I’ve never tasted their pain? Or at least listened to them describe it?

I recently was given a you should statement by a well intentioned friend in regards to a parenting matter around our adopted, orphaned son. Let me just say it didn’t help, the advice was  about as useful as a burned out lightbulb silencing me quickly. But, hey now, I do the same thing! I want to move away from the hard, tender, vulnerable conversation and offer a pretty package that doesn’t make me uncomfortable (usually the package is black and white). I may even slap a Bible verse on it. I want to give the quick advice and move on. I’ve realized  I’m really good at being a burned out lightbulb. I think I miss the cue again and again when I’ve been invited into a vulnerable conversation where I simply need to shut up and listen, giving sacred space for the other to be heard and understood.   A lightbulb lights up a room and makes us feel safe to move around. A dark space paralyzes us.

Sometimes I look at Jesus in my minds eye and whisper, “how did I miss this?” Jesus came. JESUS came. Jesus CAME and made his home with us. He entered our space. He listened to our stories. Eugene Peterson put it this way, “He moved into the neighborhood.” He heard our truth and gave us grace. He was the truth and showed us love. He didn’t shout down from heaven telling us what we need to do to be saved. He visited us. He is Light and the hurting felt safe. He showed us how to save. His life showed us the gospel. And then, in case we missed it, He described it clearly in Matthew 25:

• Feed the hungry
• Visit the sick
• Take care of the poor
• Clothe the naked
• Visit the prisoner
• Welcome children
• Give water
• Embrace the stranger
• Love your enemies
• Bless those who hurt you

These are not easy words to live out, but this kingdom lifestyle proves we belong to Jesus. Not only that, when we refuse to live this way of loving others, we are refusing the Lord Himself. This is the way we follow Jesus as He invited us to. And, He promises this is the path of abundance and joy.

In 2007 my husband and I spent a year in the DRCongo, one of the most corrupt, war torn countries in the world. I went with a suitcase full of solutions and ideas. My ideas all failed. I was on a mission to fix what was wrong. Maybe I’ll write more about that in future posts, but I learned the lesson of my life in the middle of that lonely, confusing year. However you phrase it: God spoke to me, impressed upon me, or guided me in my thoughts; I clearly heard this message:

I didn’t bring you here to fix anyone. I brought you here to love.

What a relief. Sometimes Loving involves words, sometimes action, often both. But, it always begins with showing up.

For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him. John 3:16

Love never fails.

Two phrases I’m trying to intentionally incorporate into conversations with whomever I have the privilege of learning from (which is everyone!): 

“What else?” 

“Tell me more.”

And then breathe a prayer of gratitude for those mentoring moments, asking the Spirit to help me be quick to listen and slow to speak and overflowing with Love.

Thanks for listening. I'd love to hear your thoughts.