Tag: listen

Sounds in the Stairwell

Chris De ManLeave a comment

I really like our house. It has truly been a home for the eight years we’ve been here. Granted, we did quite a bit of work reclaiming it from the realm of neglect so that it could serve our active family of seven. Now with everyone away at school or setting-up their own household, a quietness covers a trove of memories.

Not long ago, our children enlightened us to an interesting feature of our home. It’s a two-story house with a stairway in the middle that connects our main and upper floor. Over the years, it was not uncommon for my wife and I to have ‘parental’ conversations on the main floor in a corner of the kitchen. If you’re a parent you know these types of talks: mildly intense with moments of disagreement and bits of frustration. Thus, when the need arose for such conversations, a corner of the kitchen seemed a safe place for dialogue presuming the kids were out of ear shot, nestled in their bedrooms upstairs. We were wrong. Now adults, our children have reported that anything said in the kitchen, whispered or not, travelled nearly unabated up the stairway and into their eager ears. Oh, boy.

Overall, I’m not too disturbed that my kids got some inside scoop on our parenting. It’s probably healthy in the long run to glean some of the political and relational machinations involved in raising children. But the acoustical dynamics of our own home made me reflect a bit more on my present situation.

For some time I’ve been longing to hear clearly from God. I’ve desired clarity with my ideas, involvements, and life in general. Lately, it’s been a rather tough go as I’ve found it difficult to settle my spirit and be still. To patiently wait for a word.

In the past, I’ve felt more attuned to God, having a better sense of purpose and how I specifically lived that out in the day-to-day. Life still had bumps and detours but I was moving at a steady pace in a good direction. But now the pace is different and the land seems foreign. As bedrooms have become offices and our time more discretionary, this moment is both exciting and unsettling. So as I wait on God in this newness, I’m a bit disoriented by His silence.

But is God really being silent with me? This past week I had the thought come to mind (maybe from God?) that perhaps my disorientation is, in part, because I’m ensconced in the noise of my own fretting. As I’ve wondered and worried and over-thought my circumstance, is it possible that I’ve internally squelched God’s still, small voice? Have my anxieties and uncertainties effectively noise-cancelled His overtures of care? If so, what’s to be done?

Referencing the sabbath, Dallas Willard said, “The command is “Do no work.” Just make space. Attend to what is around you. Learn that you don’t have to do to be. Accept the grace of doing nothing. Stay with it until you stop jerking and squirming.” I think Willard’s thoughts apply beyond just sabbath keeping. I’m working way too hard to figure my life out. I’m jerking and squirming and fretting and worrying. I’m not hearing because I’m not ready to listen. While I might like God’s voice to flow to me as easily as it does up our stairwell, I need the Spirit to settle my spirit and open my heart to rest. To listen. To receive comfort and clarity at the time and the way that God desires.

As I invite the Spirit to help me settle, I’m remembering that Jesus promised to never leave nor forget about me. I am never out of His thoughts. This is true in every moment—even when we’re quiet together.

Who Else?

Chris De ManLeave a comment

I’ve spent a lot of time in school. Like most people, I was required to assimilate and regurgitate  information. I’ve learned arithmetic, the parts of speech, capitals, countries, continents, and species of flora. Buried in my brain is The Periodic Table, multiplication tables, and the chemical formula for table salt. I can still recite the first few lines of the prologue to The Canterbury Tales in Middle English: “Whan that aprill with his shoures soote, the droghte of march hath perced to the roote…” Oh, the trauma!

I’m naturally curious so learning is enjoyable. Even though I’m an anxious student when it comes to grades, I do find pleasure in exploring new ideas and perspectives. The human experience is broad and varied, and I want to understand it more fully.

Getting more personal, I want to know why I do what I do (and don’t do). Where I come from and why I am the way I am. My DNA says I’m a blend of Dutch, English, German, Scottish, and Norse (in that order). I’m Enneagram Type 5, wing 6. Myers-Briggs pegs me as INTJ. My top five Strengthsfinder characteristics are Input, Intellection, Learner, Achiever, and Responsibility. More than one spiritual gift assessment has suggested I have the gifts of teaching, administration, and pastoral care. And for the rest of my life, I think I’ll struggle with perfectionism, anger, and remembering names.

All these things are data offering insight into me. Anecdotal evidence generally confirms my assessed proclivities, propensities, priorities, and personality. Much of it has been helpful in my development. I have matured, even though at times I don’t feel any different than my 16-year old self. Now 51, I’m taking stock and finding there are times when I’m a bit too smug about the categories and lists and mantras I’ve collected to neatly define my identity, clarify my “issues,” and predict my behavioral response.

Frankly, I feel squashed beneath all the charts, graphs, types, and profiles. While such things have been quite helpful, my heart is yearning for more mystery. Rather than settle into pathways prescribed by what I think I know about me, I’m drawn to release myself more fully to God. Over the past few months, I’ve been inviting His presence to help me listen, discern, embrace, and respond to my experience of Him. I’m asking for a deeper trust that fuels a desire to risk moving beyond the false comfort of self-knowledge to submitting myself to the One who knew me before I saw light.

Thomas Merton said, “What is the use of knowing our weakness if we do not implore God to sustain us with His power?” (Thoughts in Solitude, p.48) I know a lot about me. And for too long I’ve focused on what’s broken. Paid too much attention to the “lies” of my shadow self, trying to correct through self-diagnosis. At times I found it easier to commiserate over failures than to lament and repent. 

I want a deeper faith. A greater love. More trust that Jesus can direct my life better than I can. To slow my chase after knowledge and respond to God’s invitation to dwell with Him in those places that confuse, confound, frustrate, and irritate me. Places that defy analysis, categories, and predictable outcomes.

As I pray for fortitude and courage to that end, I’m remembering the Apostle Peter. In a moment when many of those following Jesus were turning away, the Lord asked Peter if he, too, was going to leave. Peter replied (I imagine with passion): “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” (John 6:68, ESV)

Indeed, who else but Jesus.

Listen to This

Chris De ManLeave a comment

seeing-shepherds-ii-daniel-bonnell
Seeing Shepherds II by Daniel Bonnell

It was so quiet my ears hurt.

Standing in that chamber is an eerie, disturbing, and unsettling experience. It’s a room in which you can literally hear your heart beating and blood flowing. Scream all you want, but no one will hear. Such are the qualities of an anechoic chamber. A room specifically designed to absorb nearly every bit of sound energy.

My occupational journey afforded me experience with an anechoic chamber. It truly is an uncomfortable yet fascinating room. And while echoless chambers are valuable in specific contexts, the absence of reverberating noise isn’t normal. Sound is ever and always bombarding us. And no matter our quality of perception, sound is inherent to our lives.

A father to five, I’ve become acquainted with all manner of sound and noise. My children have solidified my understanding of hearing versus listening. Rarely do my kids fail to hear what I say, but they sometime chose not to listen. Listening is an active engagement. An attentive behavior that willingly receives and responds. And when done well, listening can be a physical, mental, emotional, and sometimes spiritual experience.

Our path this Advent season has taken us through a specific weekly focus. First it was humility, then peace, rest, and now listening. Each of these characteristics or behaviors takes cues from the others as they shape our thoughts, words, attitudes, and actions. As we humble ourselves to God’s authority and settle our spirits with a peace-filled rhythm of rest, we can enhance our steps toward right-living with contemplative listening.

Listening is a helpful spiritual practice. It opens our heart and mind to a divine dialogue as we welcome that still, small voice that sings over each of us. And while we don’t need an echo-free environment to experience God’s presence, the many and varied activities of the holiday season make it particularly challenging to create listening spaces. But it is possible.

Over this next week, join me in setting aside time for quiet, sacred idleness. Rise a little earlier, make a warm beverage, and turn on the tree lights. Settle into a comfortable seat and open Scripture. Maybe dwell on a prayer from The Valley of Vision or sit with the incomparable Rossetti or Hopkins. Accent your contemplative listening with some instrumental music. Whatever calms your spirit, craft your listening space so it assists in dialing-down your task-making mind and dampens the pressure to ‘do’. Be still. Allow the beautiful advent of the long expected Jesus to invigorate your listening toward a grateful response of, “Gloria in excelsis Deo!” Our Savior has come!

A Prayer for Listening
Son of God and Son of Man,

Incarnate Word of life and light;

Disrupt my routine with listening spaces,
and tune my soul to your song of love.

“My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”
(John 10:27, ESV)