Listening to the words

I didn’t watch the inauguration. I was trying to get two restless, crying children to go to sleep during naptime at my job. (Naptime for the children, not the teachers, of course.) The Nature Sounds CD was playing. (It’s pretty because it sounds almost mournful. Soft instrumentation in a minor key, along with the sound of birds chirping and waves lapping and trees rustling.)

In between songs I could hear a man’s voice in loud and determined tones, his words blurred by the walls and doors between me and whoever was watching. I knew it was someone, perhaps even Obama, speaking at the inauguration, because otherwise I never would hear a TV or radio at work. So I heard, but I didn’t hear. I was isolated by the walls and the music and my responsibilities.

I wonder what else gets between me and true hearing, and not just hearing but listening. Jesus often said, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear” (Matt. 11:15, 13:9; Mark 4:9, 23; Luke 8:8, 14:35). Sometimes His voice is faint and muffled in my life, because I drown it out with other noise, even “pretty” noise. What does it mean for me to truly listen to Him, to sit at His feet and see Him only? To soak in His Word? My true Savior, not a political leader whom God has appointed for a season, but the only Hope, the only Change, the only Life. The Way, the Truth, and the Life.