Radio Signals

Still thinking about radio telescopes. They are used to detect naturally-occurring radio light from stars. The website I'm reading says:

Naturally-occurring radio waves are extremely weak by the time they reach us from space. A cell phone signal is a billion billion times more powerful than the cosmic waves our telescopes detect.

There is a denomination that uses the phrase, "God is still speaking" in it's web presence (and perhaps elsewhere). I believe that. I imagine you do, too. Do you ever find that while you believe God is still speaking, and can be a challenge to hear him? This phrase from the telescope page struck me, because this is how it is with God, sometimes - even though I know God's voice is so much stronger than a cell phone signal, I can't hear it.

If you visit the radio telescope at Greenbanks, WV, you enter a quiet zone (at least, your cell phone does). There is no signal to be had in that area of the mountains (which is one of the reasons it was chosen for the observatory. Not only that, but other sources of radio waves are either masked or eliminated. The nearby school's microwave is kept shielded. Digital cameras and spark plugs (in vehicles) are prohibited near the telescope. The scientists are trying to eliminate all distractions from the signals they are recording.

Maybe there is a lesson in that for us. I don't meant that we should live in a quiet zone, free from distractions. We are called to ministry in the world, and we should BE in the world. I mean that there may be times we need to retreat from distractions, and listen for God.

Do we listen?

We have a dog.  She is a beagle, and her name is Molly.  She is quite possibly the sweetest animal I have ever known. We met her when she was about two weeks old; she joined our family at six weeks old, and has been here ever since.  She is beloved.

Molly is not without flaws, and one of them is that she pretends, when it suits her, that she does not understand English.  She can't fool me; I know she understands me when I speak.  I say, "Back," and she turns around and walks the other way.  I say, "Let's go downstairs," and she runs full speed down the stairs.  If I say, "Treat," well, you can imagine her reaction.  But when it's time for bed, and I say, "Let's go upstairs," she just stares at me as if I am speaking Portuguese or Cat.

She knows my voice, she understands the words, but she doesn't like them.  So she ignores me.

This Sunday is Christ the King Sunday. Like any seeker of knowledge, I googled it this evening. The Feast of Christ the King was established in 1925 by Pope Pious XI.  He wrote in December of that year that even though World War I was over, there was still no true peace. He believed that true peace could only be found in the recognition of the Christ as King.

John 18:37, from this Sunday's lectionary, says, "Pilate asked him, "So you are a king?" Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."

"Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."

Do we listen to Christ's voice?  Or are we as stubborn as our family's beagle, ignoring words we understand but choose not to obey?  When Christ says to feed the poor, do we?  When he says, "Forgive that person so many times that you can't keep count," do we? When he says that the most important action we can do with our lives is to love God and love each other, do we?

Or do we stare at our savior as if we don't understand him at all because it's not the words we want to hear?

Listen

Yesterday, I talked about a post I read on Facebook:  "Women don't need to be rescued; they just need someone to listen to them."  My post was about rescue.  Today I want to look at the other half of the post - listening.

I've written before about listening (you can find my posts at this link.

Listening is a form of love.  It's not just women who need listeners; everyone needs the attentiveness of a listener.

Haven't you been sitting in a conversation, supposedly listening to someone who was talking to you, and found yourself drifting in and out of the conversation?  I've done that.  And I've been the one talking to a mind drifter, too.  Listening, really listening, is difficult, because it requires us to place the person in front of us ahead of our own thoughts and priorities.  When we don't listen, we make the person in front of us invisible in a way.  When we listen, really listen, without hearing through our own needs and suppositions, we see the person who is speaking.

Listening is a form of love because it affirms the sacred worth of the person who is speaking.  I disagree with the poster - it's not women who need someone to listen to them, it's everyone.

Go, today, and listen more than you talk.  Listen more than you think.  Just listen.  And I'll try to do the same.

Why Don't we Listen?

Come to me, you who labor and are overburdened, and I will give you rest.  Shoulder my yoke and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your soul.  Yes, my yoke is easy and my burden light.(Matthew 11:28-30)

This morning I read a piece by Henri Nouwen that mentions the scripture above and asks the question, "Why is is so difficult to be still and quiet and let God speak to me about the meaning of my life?"

First of all, I think it is an excellent question.  I often find myself ignoring any leading from God, moving quickly through my day, lost in the busyness of it.   If I even remember to listen for God, it is after I intentionally remind myself to do it.  And I'm not very intentional about it.

Nouwen ponders several possible reasons for our inattentiveness to God.  Is it a lack of trust, a lack of relationship, a doubt of God's presence or of God's interest in our lives?  Is it because we are afraid of God?  What is the reason?

I wonder if it is any of those, although I admit that any of them might be the cause.  I wonder if it is just because I am not in the habit of listening for God.  Everything else clamors for my attention. God doesn't (at least not very often).  In order to listen, I have to be intentional about it.  I have to remember to listen.  I have to block out everything else that is screaming for my time and gifts and focus on God.

I think that's one of the major reasons disciplines are so important.  They are just habits that focus our minds and ears on God.

What we Never Hear

Have you seen this video?  Heard this song?

Anna Kendrick's Cups (Pitch Perfect: When I'm Gone)

It's the song Cups, performed by Anna Kendrick.  It's a rendition of an folk song, When I'm Gone, recorded in 1931 by the Carter Family.

I watched the video this morning after JtM recommended it.  Sound is vitally important in this recording of the song, done to the rhythm of cups hitting the counter and clapping hands.  Even more than that, there are other sounds in the video -- the fan turning, doors opening/closing, the sliding of a pan into the oven.  These are sounds we hear all the time, and yet never hear.

What else in life do we hear all the time and yet never hear?  This video is designed to make those sounds "visible" to us, so that we pay attention to them, because they tell part of the story.

I wonder what parts of the story I am missing each day because I (by necessity sometimes) filter out the sounds I always (and never) hear.

Right now I'm sitting in Panera, writing, waiting for a movie time.  I can hear the ice dropping into a to go cup, terrible music over the loud speaker, the conversation at the next table, and the one at another table, the clerk behind the counter talking to a customer, laughter, footsteps, and a beeper buzzing.  I normally block all of this out so that I can concentrate on writing (or whatever else I'm doing).

Does that bad habit (there's a cricket -- is that a phone or a real cricket in Panera?) cross into the rest of my life?  What sounds of life am I filtering out so as to concentrate on what I need to do.

What views of God at work do I not see?  What sounds of God speaking do I ignore?

Hear

The word for today is hear.

This is our dog, Molly.  She hears everything, even though she is 10 years old.  Nothing gets past her listening ears except that which she does not want to hear.

She looks very somber in this image -- I woke her up to take the picture -- but she is, in fact, a joyful, happy dog.  She is devoted to our family, and she listens for every hint of movement or change.  If we leave the room, she follows.  Never tell me that she doesn't understand English -- she does. 

I think her acute listening skill is a sign of her devotion.  Is it a sign of our devotion?  Do we listen to each other?  Do we listen to God?

What is it that we choose to hear?

(She isn't really blue -- that's the TV reflecting on her fur)

Boldness

Since, then, we have such a hope, we act with great boldness..."    2 Corinthians 3:12

What does it mean to act with boldness?

Sometimes I hear people in Sunday school shy away from telling others about their faith because they are worried about reactions -- about offending someone -- about being judged.  Before you judge them, just by reading this, know that they are kind, Christian people.  I spend my days in a job where it surprises no one that I talk about God, and yet I can understand people's worries.  I at times experience them.  Being bold for God isn't easy, and it isn't simple.  That doesn't mean it isn't necessary or expected of us, but it's not as easy as those who are gifted to do it might believe.  Otherwise, it wouldn't be "bold."

Have you ever thought of being bold in listening?  One of the devotions I read this morning spoke about bold listening.  Are you bold in your listening?  Do you hear what people are telling you?  I often say my husband has a face that encourages people to talk to him.  He has a great face, but that's probably not why people tell him their stories.  He's a bold listener. 

Being a bold listener means you open your mind to hear what another person is saying.  To open your mind to understand what is being told to you.  It's a kind of vulnerability -- opening up oneself to the idea that someone else could change your mind -- or change your actions.  Opening up to the idea that someone else's story might prompt you into a response that could help the other person.  It is opening up oneself to loving that other person.

Be bold in your words.  Be bold in your listening.  You have a great hope, so you can act with boldness.

Listen

Have you thought about how important it is to listen?  I had an experience today with a doctor who did not listen.  He was trying to take a history, but he didn't listen to the answers to any of the questions he asked, he didn't listen to any thoughts that were volunteered.  He just didn't listen.  He acted as if he did not have the time.

Listening is a form of agape love.  When we listen -- really listen to someone, we say to that person that their words are important enough to matter -- to make a difference.  We say to them, though our active listening, that they themselves matter. 

We matter to God.  We should matter to each other.  We should matter enough to each other that we will listen to each other.  Who knows what we might discover.

Mindfulness

Yesterday, I talked about an image of God, attentive and listening. Earlier in the week, I talked about multitasking -- trying to do so many things at once that none of them get done well. On Wednesday, I talked about Martha and a reflection concerning the scripture from Reflectionary.

Songbird (who writes Reflectionary) was preparing for an interfaith service, and she was using a reading from I Am There For You by Thich Nhat Hanh, “Living Buddha, Living Christ”

The most precious gift we can offer others is our presence. When our mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers. If you love someone but you rarely make yourself available to him or her, that is not true love. When your beloved is suffering, you need to recognize her suffering, anxiety, and worries, and just by doing that, you already offer some relief. Mindfulness relieves suffering because it is filled with understanding and compassion. When you are really there, showing your loving-kindness and understanding, the energy of the Holy Spirit is in you.

When we lean forward in our chairs, turn off the TV, really look at the person in front of us, we are emulating God. We are listening with the intensity of the Holy Spirit. Sometimes it means interrupting what we are doing, setting aside our own schedule, but when we focus, God can enter in. When we are Mary, at the feet of God, or of anyone else, we say something.

What are you saying? What am I saying?

Multitasking

A couple of weeks ago I lost my iPhone. It was a 3G version. I replaced it with a 3Gs, which runs the iOS4 software. And blah blah blah.

I mention this because I noticed that my phone was using more battery power than I expected it to. I found out that the iOS4 software allows multitasking, and that none of the programs actually close when you push the home button -- they just minimize. Every program I opened on the phone was minimized, hidden away, running in the background.

We all try to multitask. Right this minute, I'm writing a blog post while I watch TV, think about my son leaving for Berlin, listening to Steve as he asks me a question. Multitasking. We think we can do it, but it divides our attention.

I was in a board meeting once, and another member of the board was talking while the chairperson was speaking (which is rude, but beyond that...). The chair asked if he had heard what had been said, and he told us he could do more than one thing at once.

I'm not sure I believe that. I know he thinks he heard everything, but even if he did, I think he would have missed the non-verbal cues, the relationship moments, and the nuances of the conversation.

How often do we try to listen to God while multitasking? How effective is that in our spiritual growth and in our attempts to listen to the leading of our Lord?

Listening

I was listening to a sermon today focused on the idea of finding out what we don't know that we don't know.

Don't worry. I'll just leave it at that.

The minister -- let's call him Jay, since I didn't catch his name -- told a story about a friend of his. It seems that the Jay had a bad habit of interrupting -- "my story is better than your story" kind of habit. The friend, Frank, finally told Jay that he was a horrible listener, and that his listening habits reflected that Jay didn't care for anyone except himself.

I've said before, and I believe it to be true, that listening is a form of love. We listen when something or someone is important enough to motivate us.

This is an extension of that theory that I hadn't considered before. Perhaps there are times when no one is more important to us that us. I guess I've never verbalized the idea that not listening is a form of selfishness, but I can see Frank's point.

I've known people who are like that, and at times, I worry that I am like that. I hope I am a good listener. Sometimes, maybe, I am. Other times I get in the way of that kind of grace.