Did You Say Something?
by KIM PECKHAM
H ave you ever been lending an ear to a friend— nodding your head with interest and maintaining sincere eye contact—and realised that you were, in fact, not listening? It’s as if your brain takes a 20-second holiday to the Gold Coast and makes it back to the office just in time to hear the other person say, “. . . so be sure to avoid eating any of that until they trace the killer bacteria.” This happens to me quite often. It happens even while I am listening to my wife—which, let me tell you, does nothing to enhance the sweet bonds of marriage.
Maybe it’s a side effect of ageing, like rheumatism. Or maybe it’s because there’s a lot of talking in the world, and it’s hard to take it all in.
For instance, consider those automated phone-answering systems. The voice might be the most pleasant in the world, but the subject matter lacks drama. So after the first 30 seconds of hearing which buttons to push, my mind has run off to join the circus.
And what about those safety instructions they give you on planes, describing which end of the metal buckle should be firmly grasped? If you can listen all the way through that spiel with rapt attention, your Ritalin dosage is too high.
Sermons are a good way to test a person’s attentiveness. Especially someone else’s. I take great pleasure in reminding my friend Larry about the time I saw him doze off during a sermon on the subject of—and get this—the evils of sloth.
I think God in His mercy protects pastors from discovering how far the minds of the congregation wander during sermons. While the minister or priest is preaching sanctification, people in the pews might be pondering subjects of lessthan- eternal significance, such as Who arranged the flowers today? They’re beautiful or Who’s that new person? . . . I’ve seen them be . . .
I know it would put a lot of pressure on clergy, but what if we could measure the attentiveness of the congregation in the same way that TV programs measure their audience? At the end of the service the pastor would get a report of the percentage of people who tuned in: sermon, 71 per cent; children’s story, 84 per cent; potluck announcement, 99 per cent! n If I may say so, the whole problem with lecturing is that it’s so one sided. In any other verbal encounter that lasts for more than five minutes, most of us expect an opportunity to mention our back pain and the accomplishments of at least two or three grandchildren. If there’s going to be talking, we like to take turns.
Like this:
Person A: “I’ve got a bit of a headache.”
Person B: “Yeah, well, I’ve got this mole that looks a little like Ayers Rock.”
Person A: “Oh, really? Well, in the summer of ’87, I canned about 20 boxes of peaches.”
Person B: “That reminds me—do you know that little Buster can play the Star Wars theme on the piano?”
Person A: “Great! Say, does this sweater make me look fat?” n Apparently, even if you have give-andtake in a conversation, it doesn’t mean anyone is listening. And listening is a good thing. We all know that. We expect God to listen to our prayers all the time, and we take for granted that His attention doesn’t wander.
But we will have a richer relationship with Him if we add Bible study to our prayer life. In that way we’re listening to what God has to say—even if our attention does wander from time to time.
Adapted, with permission, from Women of Spirit.
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