Holy Listening
I remember a moment many years ago when my family was new to town. It’s an exhausting season to be in when you find yourself asking everyone around you the same mundane get-to-know-you questions, and you find yourself repeating your own elevator-speech version of your story again and again. I was discouraged by the transactional nature of these shallow connections that seemed to determine whether or not someone gets a place in a new community. I came home from an evening that had involved introducing myself to new people yet again, and I tried to articulate to my husband how my interactions with a couple that we had just met made me feel. I described it at first as weird and even unsettling, but after processing the various conversations I had with both of them, I came to an important realization. They had listened to me. They had really, truly listened to me even in a buzzy social setting with a lot of distractions and—let’s face it—not a lot to gain by my acquaintance. I recalled their posture, their follow-up questions, and their eye contact that at the time had felt odd, but was the unfamiliar sensation of having a stranger’s full attention. That experience was so impactful that it eventually lead me to intentionally study the ministry of listening and ultimately, to never undervalue offering someone on the margins the gift of my full attention. All because that initial demonstration of sacrificial attention at a vulnerable time of my life felt healing. It felt holy.
Years later, I found myself reading Spiritual Conversations with Children and recalling that feeling from so long ago.“Holy Listening” is what author and theologian Lacy Finn Borgo calls the work she and other godly adults do for children at Haven House, a ministry for homeless families in transition. She describes in detail the conversations she has had with children of various ages in her “sessions,” where she allows children to talk and interact at their own pace with little interference on her part. Borgo outlines dialogues in her book that she has had with particular children, illustrating the often long and winding roads of conversation that children traverse when given the rare chance to process their inner life externally. Through the many examples she offers, some that span many sessions with a single child, we are given a glimpse into the patient work of building a safe environment for this growth and what it can produce. Children are invited into play as a way of engaging their deepest thoughts as they verbally process, and the adult is poised here as the calm facilitator of their time, nudging them to invite Jesus into their memories and feelings as they go.
But how does that practice go for those of us who are not in a space and time set aside for the art of holy listening? During hard conversations with children, whether about national news or family struggles or personal challenges, when we are rightfully measuring and analyzing our words, we have to recognize the invitation there to listen as well. What are children hearing from the Spirit as they process the painful realities of life? What can we do to help guide children to their Creator in these moments by asking thoughtful questions that turn their minds to him? What can we learn about the Lord in turn as we do? Children pick up on alarmingly more than we realize and are wired to observe how their caretakers navigate the world in order to learn how to survive in turn. They can tell when we speak of the peace in God’s sovereignty and still live in anxiety and discord. They notice when we pray for God’s justice and grace and speak words soaked in rage, disdain, or hopelessness. Children are often, for better or for worse, mirrors for us to see ourselves more clearly. It would take courage to intentionally move towards small children in vulnerable times and allow ourselves to be known, as well as to get to know what is in their hearts. It takes courage to listen well.
Not only do we have an invitation, we have a responsibility to value what we gain by listening to children intentionally. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer says in his book Life Together, “In a Christian community everything depends upon whether each individual is an indispensible link in a chain. Only when even the smallest link is securely interlocked is the chain unbreakable…Every Christian community must realize that not only do the weak need the strong, but also that the strong cannot exist without the weak.” There is a lot at stake if we do not place proper value on the voice of every member of our communities, including the children. Our ability to be the church God has called us to be depends on valuing the voices of those we would be tempted to call “weak” in our midst. Jesus himself modeled slow, intentional ministry by not only caring for the crowds who thronged him, and the officials, leaders, and wealthy who sought him out, but also for the poor, the unseen, the marginalized, and the young. If we are to live like Christ, we have to actively practice this same kind of ministry.
The call to be compassionately present to those around us is clear, but listening, holy listening, is a skill like any other that may not come natural to most of us. Borgo offers concrete guidelines to help our frazzled, fatigued adult minds begin asking good, meaningful questions of the children in our care (or even to seek out children to care for; there is no lack of them). She is clear that this is not a simple task and will take practice. Open-ended questions like “I am ready to listen; is there something you would like to talk about?” and follow up prompts such as “Can you say more about that?” or “Where do you think God was when that happened/you felt that way?” continually redirect the role of speaker in the conversation back to the child and allow space for the child to move freely in their thoughts as they do. The hardest part of holy listening is the enormous amount of patience it takes to not fill silences ourselves or to rush results. She provides guidelines to reading children’s body language and paying attention to developmentally-appropriate ways children might be answering questions indirectly.
Our parish professes that children are a vital part the body of Christ and are capable of a rich spiritual life. Our children’s ministry therefore takes care in how we teach children about the gospel, the Scriptures, and the Triune God, knowing that children are capable of receiving this eternal truth. But I wonder if we can overemphasize our role as teachers who input knowledge and truth in this setting and miss out on what we can receive when we lead children to consider what the Holy Spirit is teaching them directly in these sacred spaces. As we consider together ways to begin listening more intentionally, both to the children in our care and to those on the margins, let’s pray that God will establish the work of our hands—and ears—to show them that Christ’s love doesn’t measure the time he gives us against what we can do for him, but instead rushes to fill any empty cup we hold up to him.
Casey Cisco
Director of Redeemer Kids
