What Is A Heart With Ears? (The Discipline of Active Listening)

Yesterday, I wrote down some thoughts on my personal transition from serving as a Pastor to serving as a Chaplain. One of the biggest differences for me has been the emphasis on listening. This is not to say that there aren’t pastors who listen well. Of course they are.

But my own experience has been that pastors are often expected to not only listen well but to have all the answers; to “fix it.” Therefore, many pastors don’t end up listening all that well because they are internally trying to flip through their catalog of answers as you’re talking. Maybe this was just me. But I doubt it.

Chaplains usually have limited interactions with people and therefore must make the most of each encounter, because it really might just be our last. So chaplains must learn to immediately express empathy and trustworthiness and at the same time, somehow convey that this is a safe space. I am no there to fix your problems or to steer you in any direction. I’m just here to let you say out loud whatever it is you need to say.

I have people tell me about their marriages. I have people tell me about their siblings, their pasts, their loneliness, their bitterness, their regrets, their fondest memories. I have learned to be OK with not directing my conversations.

Yesterday I mentioned how one of my co-workers describes our job as learning to be “hearts with ears.” As I opined yesterday, it is not my job to fix your problems. It is my job to help you process them yourselves as you talk out loud. It is my job to listen.

It is my job to listen.

Shhh . . .

Quiet yourself.

The only ripples in the pond of our conversation should be the ones you make.

This is so much harder than we think. At least for me.

I like to be the Answer Man. I like to think of my reply while you’re still talking. But that’s not my job. And you won’t feel safe if that’s what I’m doing.

My job is to listen.

My job is to pay attention to your tone of voice, your speed-rate of speech, your pauses, your background noises, your level of coherency.

When I speak, my job is to make sure it’s still about you. My role is to help you process your feelings. And, I don’t understand why (though I have tried reading some clinical research on the subject) but we do this best when we are able to say our “Crazy,” our “Anything”; when we are able to speak to someone who will listen without judgment. My job is to find the place to insert the quiet ‘Mmmmmhmmm,” or “Tell me more about that.”

As I mentioned yesterday, this was a steep learning curve for me. I like to talk. I like to tell people what to do. I like people to know my opinions. In other words, I’m an arrogant human, just like you. But my job is to listen and I consider it a privilege when I am able to hold that sacred space open for someone who just needs to say something out loud to someone who will not try to fix it. I know that this drives many Christians mad; because, after all, isn’t our only point in life to turn every conversation to Jesus and GET PEOPLE SAVED? Well, no, I don’t think that’s our point in life, nor do I think it is helpful to most people.

This journey has caused me to deeply examine the ripples of my own pond. I know when I am giving someone my full attention versus when I am just watching the clock run or checking Twitter while you talk. It has forced me to come to terms with some difficult things in my own life; to find peace. Because how can I be expected to be a calm(ing) presence for others when on the inside I’ve got my own volcano ready to erupt? I have adopted breathing exercises and meditation. I’m that guy now. And I couldn’t be more thankful.

I encourage you to speak less (think more but speak less). I encourage you to listen. I encourage you to help someone unload their burden as you both leave it in the dust (it may or may not be yours to carry). I encourage you to show love by simply being a safe person without an agenda.