Grief

Sometimes the news comes quick. Sometimes the news comes slow. No matter how or when it comes, grief travels in the wake of the news. Grief is heavy, weighty, a burden, especially when it involves someone deeply loved. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. It’s too heavy and may last a while—and that’s ok. That’s what family and friends are for, to share the load. Jesus stood outside the tomb of his friend and wept but He did not weep alone. It was a deep, human moment. “ Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ” (Matt 5:4). If anyone knows how we feel in grief, it’s Him. But His grief did not linger long, as at the mention of his name, Lazarus came forth. We are not meant to dwell in grief, but should leave room enough for it. Let it run its course. Like the song says, “ Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain .” Another song says, “ The storm We will dance as it breaks The storm It will give as it takes And all of our pain is washed away Don't cry or be afraid Some things...

Listen

“A pair of good ears will drain dry a hundred tongues. Give us grace to listen well.” (John Keble, 1792 – 1866 Poet, leader of the Oxford Movement)

That’s a funny word, “listen.” We don’t say it like it’s spelled (we live by the exception of the rule) and it begins to make a strange sound in our own ears if we say it enough times. I wonder if Charles Stanley can hear how often he uses the word in a half hour? Regardless, I know why he uses it so much.

We get our word from the Old English, “hlysnan,” from the old High German, “khlusinon” or “hlosen” and “lauschen” (which is a far cry from the Sanskrit, “srnoti”). A deeper etymological study reveals a deep meaning we take for granted; in other words, “listen” means more than “hear.” The word includes the idea of listing, giving fame to or making famous, ascribing splendor and honor to, glory. The implication is that when we listen, we focus to the point of exalting the object of undivided attention.

So what?

Journalist and author Gay Talese described a bar tended by a young woman, who seemed very much out of place in a slum dive such as this. Truth be told, she was a sociology student who got a job at this specific bar so she could study people as she worked (she could have worked someplace else, but considering her field of study, this was an ideal setting). “A few of them said they knew of other jobs for me that weren’t so ‘low class’ . . . they wanted to rescue me—they who could barely help themselves.” Why did the people come to drink? They could have done any of a hundred thousand other things if they merely wanted to pass the time, so why come here, to the bar? They could have spent less money on a bottle at the liquor store if they wanted to be alone. They go to the bar because there, someone will listen.

Near my house there are two convenience stores and a gas station where daily one can see men and women standing outside all hours of the day, and many are passing the bottle. Look past the dirt, and ignore the smell for a moment and watch them—they are talking, and listening. They are a community of people who want to be heard, so they go to where someone will listen.

Listening calls for a response, action. Listening is a journey with someone else. Sure, you can hold hands, but when one walks by listening, one connects in a much more intimate way.

“When you talk, you repeat what you already know; when. you listen, you often learn something.” (Jaren Sparks, 1789-1866, the President of Harvard University from 1849 to 1853.)
Jesus ate and drank with tax collectors and sinners, listening.

Popular posts from this blog

Rock Me, Epictetus!

The Smooth-flowing Life