It might seem like a strange way to begin this article, but I’m not actually a great listener. In my natural state, when I wake up in the morning, when I’m tired after a long day, or in a busy season of life, I really struggle to listen well.
Yet over the last decade of being an Anglican priest, listening has become a critical part of living out my vocation. After all, we worship a God who listens. A God who hears. A God who responds. And as the hands and feet of Christ, we are called to do as he does.
But what am I to do? A priest for whom listening is a challenge?
This is where I want to encourage anyone who seeks to care deeply for those around them, whether they are a minister or not. You might be a teacher, parent, or simply a follower of Jesus trying to love people well: we are all called to listen, as listening is the language of love.
When we feel heard, we feel loved. We feel understood. Yet people often confuse hearing with listening, and the two are not the same thing. Most people can recall a moment where they shared something deeply important, only to realise the other person wasn’t truly listening. They may have heard the words audibly, but their response revealed otherwise. Perhaps they shrugged it off, gave a flippant “quick-fix” answer, or quickly turned the conversation back to themselves.
True listening is different.
In my experience, listening is a skill that can be learned, taught, and developed. Just like learning an instrument or practising a sport, listening takes purpose and practice.
Over the course of ordained ministry, I’ve taken part in a number of trainings that have helped shape this skill in me. One of the most formative (and frustrating) was a programme called Clinical Pastoral Education. It sounds like something you’d have to complete after a period of priestly incarceration, but within that training I encountered a practice that was unfamiliar to me at the time: reflective listening.
Reflective listening is the process of subtly repeating back words or phrases to the person you are listening to. It takes practice to avoid sounding like a parrot, but when done well, it creates a deep sense of empathy and understanding.
Someone might say, “I’ve had the worst week of my life.”
A reflective response might be: “You’ve had the worst week of your life. Would you like to chat about it?”
Or perhaps: “I’m so frustrated with my kids. They never do what I ask them to do.”
To which I might respond: “You’re really frustrated with your kids, and they never listen to you. That sounds really hard.”
As you read these examples, they might initially feel unnatural. You might think hearing your own words reflected back would feel repetitive or frustrating. But in my experience, most people respond incredibly positively to reflective listening because it communicates something simple but powerful:
Reflective listening requires the listener to focus entirely on the other person. Not on preparing a response. Not on fixing the issue. Not on deciding what the person should do next. The attention shifts away from ourselves and onto the person in front of us.
And in doing so, trust and empathy begin to grow.
But listening remains difficult for me. It requires me to put aside my ego, my opinions, my need to fix things, and my discomfort with painful conversations. Listening requires me to become fully present.
The encouragement, however, is this: listening can be learned. Listening can be taught. And the skill of listening can grow over time.
I’ll be exploring the skill of listening at my upcoming workshop Learning to Listen Well at the upcoming Emmaus training days (see our Events page). I'll talk about practical tools like reflective listening, why most conversations stay shallow, and how deep listening can become one of the most healing gifts we offer those around us. If you want to become a better listener, you might want to come along.
Most people don’t need better advice. They need someone who will truly listen.
Check out other articles in the
series below.
More articles in the
series are to come.
We have invited these writers to share their experiences, ideas and opinions in the hope that these will provoke thought, challenge you to go deeper and inspire you to put your faith into action. These articles should not be taken as the official view of the Nelson Diocese on any particular matter.
It might seem like a strange way to begin this article, but I’m not actually a great listener. In my natural state, when I wake up in the morning, when I’m tired after a long day, or in a busy season of life, I really struggle to listen well.
Yet over the last decade of being an Anglican priest, listening has become a critical part of living out my vocation. After all, we worship a God who listens. A God who hears. A God who responds. And as the hands and feet of Christ, we are called to do as he does.
But what am I to do? A priest for whom listening is a challenge?
This is where I want to encourage anyone who seeks to care deeply for those around them, whether they are a minister or not. You might be a teacher, parent, or simply a follower of Jesus trying to love people well: we are all called to listen, as listening is the language of love.
When we feel heard, we feel loved. We feel understood. Yet people often confuse hearing with listening, and the two are not the same thing. Most people can recall a moment where they shared something deeply important, only to realise the other person wasn’t truly listening. They may have heard the words audibly, but their response revealed otherwise. Perhaps they shrugged it off, gave a flippant “quick-fix” answer, or quickly turned the conversation back to themselves.
True listening is different.
In my experience, listening is a skill that can be learned, taught, and developed. Just like learning an instrument or practising a sport, listening takes purpose and practice.
Over the course of ordained ministry, I’ve taken part in a number of trainings that have helped shape this skill in me. One of the most formative (and frustrating) was a programme called Clinical Pastoral Education. It sounds like something you’d have to complete after a period of priestly incarceration, but within that training I encountered a practice that was unfamiliar to me at the time: reflective listening.
Reflective listening is the process of subtly repeating back words or phrases to the person you are listening to. It takes practice to avoid sounding like a parrot, but when done well, it creates a deep sense of empathy and understanding.
Someone might say, “I’ve had the worst week of my life.”
A reflective response might be: “You’ve had the worst week of your life. Would you like to chat about it?”
Or perhaps: “I’m so frustrated with my kids. They never do what I ask them to do.”
To which I might respond: “You’re really frustrated with your kids, and they never listen to you. That sounds really hard.”
As you read these examples, they might initially feel unnatural. You might think hearing your own words reflected back would feel repetitive or frustrating. But in my experience, most people respond incredibly positively to reflective listening because it communicates something simple but powerful:
Reflective listening requires the listener to focus entirely on the other person. Not on preparing a response. Not on fixing the issue. Not on deciding what the person should do next. The attention shifts away from ourselves and onto the person in front of us.
And in doing so, trust and empathy begin to grow.
But listening remains difficult for me. It requires me to put aside my ego, my opinions, my need to fix things, and my discomfort with painful conversations. Listening requires me to become fully present.
The encouragement, however, is this: listening can be learned. Listening can be taught. And the skill of listening can grow over time.
I’ll be exploring the skill of listening at my upcoming workshop Learning to Listen Well at the upcoming Emmaus training days (see our Events page). I'll talk about practical tools like reflective listening, why most conversations stay shallow, and how deep listening can become one of the most healing gifts we offer those around us. If you want to become a better listener, you might want to come along.
Most people don’t need better advice. They need someone who will truly listen.
Check out other articles in the
series below.
More articles in the
series are to come.
