When you reach a certain age, I think you earn the right to draw some conclusions about life and people. So, here are two conclusions I’ve drawn: 1. People don’t really hear what you’re saying unless they are ready to hear what you’re saying; and 2. Just because they look like they’re listening, it doesn’t mean they are.
I love to communicate. I majored in communication in college just so I could spend my life communicating. And then God surrounded me with males – a husband and two sons. Go figure.
All these great things to say and questions to ask, and I’ve been surrounded by guys whose idea of chatting it up is, “When are we eating?” or “What’d you do with my shoes?”
By the time my sons were teenagers, I figured out the two things boys want from their moms: silence and a full fridge. Food was easy; silence, not so much.
Then there’s my dear husband. I cannot count the times I’ve told Joe something, only to have him ask me about it within 24 hours, as though I never said a thing about it.
“I just told you that,” I say. To which he replies, “You did?” To which I respond, “Argggggh — nobody evvvvvvvver listen to me around here!”
I wish guys came with indicator lights so that I’d know when their receivers were on and their brains were not otherwise engaged with thoughts of tractors and computer games and work and who-knows-what-else. But they don’t, so I just continue to cast my conversational pearls out there in vain.
A few years ago, I joined the staff of my church as the communication coordinator. My job is to make sure folks know what’s going on. Thanks to modern technology, I can fire messages at them from all directions – church bulletins, newsletters, emails, text messages, our website. I’ve discovered that men aren’t the only ones who shut off their receivers. Entire congregations can.
I tell them and tell them that the church picnic is on Saturday, and I still get barraged with last-minute questions like, “I’m confused – is the picnic on Saturday or Sunday?” or “Why didn’t anyone tell me we were having a picnic?”
“Arrrrrrrgh,” I say again.
But then I get it. Until it’s time for them to seriously think about what they are doing on Saturday, the picnic messages just bounce right off their brains. Until then, my repeated announcements must sound to them like the adult characters in a Charlie Brown cartoon: “Waw-waw-waw-waw-waw-waw-waw.”
Most of us are bombarded with so much information, we stay on overload and live last-minute lives.
I’m sure God understands my communication frustrations, and even shares them. He’s been telling people for thousands of years what’s coming up. We’re each going to check out of this world, one way or another, and we better be ready for what’s next. And being ready means being reconciled to Him through Jesus Christ.
He’s told us and told us and told us, but we get so busy doing this life that we can forget about the one to come. Tragedies may temporarily jolt us into pondering eternity, but on normal days, millions of folks let the Gospel ricochet right off their hearts.
Nothing awful is going to happen to anyone if they tune me out, but not so with God. We better turn on our receivers and purpose to hear what He has to say. Now. Not at the last minute, because the last minute can come much sooner than we expect.
“Listen and give heed, do not be haughty, for the Lord has spoken.” – Jeremiah 13:15
“And He (Jesus) was saying, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” — Mark 4:9