Hearing

Not too much attention is given by Christians to the meaning of hearing.

Even as I write that, I realise I must immediately disown all reference to Church microphones and induction loops that plague the peaceableness of every congregation's relationships.  (It seems clear to me why angels in heaven use trumpets and God a very loud voice life the sound of many waters - nowhere could be free of sin that had electronic sound reproduction!).

The hearing I refer to is that with which the Lord Jesus ends many parables -  he that hath ears to hear let him hear.  Lest we take that turn of phrase to mean that everyone will hear Jesus also indicates rather the opposite, quoting the old prophet - ears have they but they hear not.

Serving God in a vast city where, nonetheless, many do not hear I have been thinking about this.  Clearly we who know Christ have to be out there and the past year has seen our church do that on many occasions (but nowhere near as many as the Jehovah's Witnesses locally, let's admit).  There is a telling to be done.

But there is also hearing.  

The picture above is a quotation from John Wesley.  It stands by one of his great outdoor theatres of preaching where thousands heard.  We envy him.  Then we beat ourselves up for falling so far short.  But we might miss what he says - to declare unto all that are willing to hear.  Wesley was a great evangelist partly because he had a great hearing audience.  A Christian in Saudi Arabia or North Korea has very few hearers (except perhaps by media).  A Christian in parts of Africa or South America may quickly amass many.  Jesus did both, with Galilean audiences of thousands and disgruntled Jerusalem Temple or Nazareth sceptics who wouldn't accept a word he said.  Hence his point.

The willingness to hear is not the work so much of the evangelist as the community.  Or more properly of the Holy Spirit who graciously unplugs ears sometimes.

"Pardon?"

The telephone is a boon to people who are deaf, I've been told.  I know friends who find a voice on the telephone easier to hear than one in real life.  But there comes a point where this is no longer true because the deafness is profound.  I had to give on on such a call this past week and it brought to mind one of the most difficult pastoral conversations I have ever had.

Few if anyone who reads this blog would ever have met the lady but I'll call her Mary.  Mary lived on her own but had a son David living locally who never came to our Church.  I had never seen her there either but I had met her in hospital and her husband when he'd been alive so had kept, so to speak, in touch.  She had another son, John, in South Africa.  And that's where the call headed:

"Hello, Mary"

"Hello.  Hello, who's that? Is that you, John?"

"It's John Roberts from the Church"

"How are things with you, then?  I hope everyone's well"

"Yes, thank you.  But how are you?"

"Yes, the leaves are falling here.  What's the weather like there?"

"IT'S JOHN FROM THE CHURCH, MARY"

"It's getting colder now too.  The night's are drawing in.  I expect it's warm there already, is it?"

"I'M JOHN ROBERTS FROM THE CHURCH, MARY, I'M RINGING TO SEE HOW YOU ARE."

"Yes, it will soon be winter now.  The leaves are beginning to fall, you know.  How is everyone anyway?"

(Giving up) "We're fine, thank you"

"David's very good, you know.  He does all that needs doing" (Oh dear.  Was that a pointed comment?  I didn't know.  I didn't like being a surrogate telephone son).

The phone call eventually ended - though that wasn't easy to achieve given that I was cast in the role of ringing from South Africa to check on my mother.  I hoped that John's wife and family were indeed alright as I had answered for them! 

And I realised what my prayer times must seem like from heaven's perspective.