To be known

Being interrupted is perhaps my greatest pet peeve.  In fact, I get a little irritated whenever someone interrupts anyone in a conversation.  I've always felt that by interrupting someone you're showing disrespect to them and attempting to move the attention back to you and your life.  So often I've been listening to someone who is pouring out their heart and is demonstrating a deep need to be known and acknowledged only to be interrupted and then fade into the background.  It's disheartening to watch, but the fact of the matter is, it happens and it happens often.  I think we're all prone to this at times, because we have this intense desire to be known for who we are.  We want others to see the depths of our souls and to be accepted as having worth.  Unfortunately, our desire to be accepted often trumps the desire of others and so we interrupt and try to promote ourselves over and against them.

Naturally with any pet peeve, I myself am guilty of it.  I didn't realize to what extent until I worked alongside a chaplain at a hospital.  My job was to go in and talk with people in the ICU and to simply offer hope in the midst of their pain.  As I began visiting patients I found that while I kept the conversation on them, I'd often steer the conversation from one topic to another.  The chaplain gracefully showed me that while I focused my attention on the patient, I often didn't pay attention to the topic that they were most interested in or allow them to steer the conversation.  As I began to listen more attentively, I began allowing them to simply open up more.  In doing so I gave them space where they were able to feel safe about what they shared and gave them the opportunity to be vulnerable for that brief time.  I never rushed my time with them and allowed them to end the conversation when they desired.  This is what we give others when we refrain from interrupting.  When we simply listen to them and ask thoughtful questions, we allow our friends to be truly vulnerable and known.  We are offering healing in those moments and we die to ourselves and our own desires in the process.

Jesus modeled this well for us.  On the road to Jerusalem, he is on his way to his death and he knows it, yet a blind man calls out to him.  Jesus takes a moment and calls him to himself and asks, "What do you want me to do for you?"  He offers the man healing and a listening ear.  He doesn't try to impose his own will or attempt to gain something from the man, but instead is only concerned with the needs of the blind man.  He does it again with the woman at the well.  His discussion with her is in itself an act of grace and compassion.  The fact that she was a woman, the fact that she was a Samaritan, and the fact that she was at the well at midday all points to the idea that she is an outcast, yet Jesus extends grace and begins a conversation with her.  He listens to her questions about God and where to worship and then reveals a bit of himself to her.  He sees her heart and extends grace and healing.

I believe it was Henri Nouwen who pointed out that the mark of a true friend lies in their willingness to seek you out not for the purpose of being heard, but to listen.  There are people all around us who, as Thoreau put it, are living lives of quiet desperation.  We want to be known and to be loved for who we are.  To be recognized as having value and be loved in spite of our weaknesses.  Our soul aches for someone to set aside their own concerns in order to simply listen to our story.  To give us the space and safety to be truly vulnerable.  This is our calling as Christians, when we set aside our own concerns and simply listen without any agenda we are able to allow others to be known.