A consistent struggle of mine is listening. I mean really listening. My mind always seems to run a hundred miles an hour, jumping from one thought to the next. I’ll focus on someone talking to me for a bit and even take in what they’re saying—but soon enough, I’m also thinking about what tasks I have ahead, what’s next on my schedule, an idea for a new column, a family member or friend, a podcast segment, or my next meal! So, truth be told, I’m often only half-listening.
My friends might not say I’m a bad listener, but my colleagues can tell when my mind has wandered. And my family? They’d probably say my listening skills need work (mine are abysmal compared to my wife’s!). Maybe I’ve improved a little over the years, but slowing my mind down enough to give full attention is still something I have to work at.
In her recent book The Extinction of Experience: Being Human in a Disembodied World, Christine Rosen explores how challenging it has become in our digital age to give ourselves over to the beauty of poetry, music, and art. Distraction reigns, and we rarely slow down to fully engage with what’s in front of us. She shares a well-known quote: “Most works of art yield their secrets slowly.”
If that’s true of art, how much more so of Scripture? The Bible isn’t an easy book. Saying it’s not easy doesn’t mean we can’t grasp its main message—Scripture clearly reveals salvation. But the Bible makes demands of us. It calls for thought, patience, and devotion. The path to truly internalizing and digesting Scripture is rugged, intentionally so, for this is how the Spirit does his work in our lives.
Why is it so hard for us to really hear God’s Word in our time? I could point to our phones and devices, our busy schedules, or the endless stream of information—the overload, the barrage, the constant influx of news and opinions competing for our attention. But what if some of our distraction comes from a different source? What if part of the difficulty comes from religious routines that relegate God’s Word to background chatter, like a radio playing in a dentist’s office?
What if our religious activity, even our church involvement, sometimes keeps us from truly hearing? To the point that when God does speak to us through his Word, we don’t even know how to respond? So we jump to planning, preparing, even talking over him. Do we use our busyness in ministry to evade that Voice?
Consider Peter on the Mount of Transfiguration. There he was, beholding Jesus in radiant glory, flanked by Elijah and Moses. And what was his first reaction? Talking. Planning. Suggesting. Strategizing. Rushing to do something—until the Father’s voice interrupted: “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him!”
The command isn’t to start doing anything, much less to say anything. Not in that moment, no. It’s to listen. When you encounter God’s transcendent glory in the face of Jesus Christ, religiosity is stripped away. Good intentions melt. Spiritual disciplines shrink. Our task is to listen.
Listening here means a lot more than casually tuning in for a moment or two before we switch off again. It means real listening, intense listening, listening which hurts. It means attentive straining after what is said, giving ourselves wholly to the task of attention to Jesus. Why? Because he is God’s Word, he is what God says to us. In him and as him God makes himself known to us as the light of the world. Listen to him. (96)
Real listening. Intense listening. Listening that hurts. Burrowing deep into the Scriptures, with patience and determination, trusting the Spirit to unveil riches and depths we couldn’t see before.
We live in a world where many voices seek attention, where influencers everywhere hawk their wares. In a world teeming with voices and influencers, how tragic if the church becomes just another place of constant noise, with God’s Word relegated to background chatter. How tragic if we develop the capacity to attune to everything but our Creator’s Word.
Perhaps the most radical, countercultural practice we could cultivate today is an intensity in listening to the Scriptures—a steadfast attention that refuses to allow anything to wrest our focus from the Bible. To listen until it hurts, as Jacob wrestled with God, refusing to let go until he was blessed.
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