I remember the days when my parents would say that I needed to listen better, and I would reply that they needed to speak up because I didn't hear them. As the years have seasoned me a bit, I think we were both right. Well, they were mostly right. When they said it was time to eat, I heard every word and made it to the table before they did. When the time came to wash dishes, I couldn't hear as well. It was probably due to all that clanking noise from the dishes hitting the sink that lessened my reception, but I could have sworn they asked me to go outside and play.
My pattern of selective hearing continued with the teachers at school. I did fine with instructions concerning recess and lunch, but talk of homework or, God forbid, being quiet in class, that just didn't seem to register. Perhaps that explains why many of my report cards carried a polite warning: "a delight to have in class, but needs more self control."
After a few years of teaching, I realized that statement was much better than the "Shut your mouth and pay attention" that I deserved. I've also realized that the bad habit of selective hearing can best be fixed with a simple dose of focus, which I learned from a favorite dog.
Since dogs have always been a part of my life, I should have learned this lesson in middle school, but I was too busy sort of chasing my tail and trying to fit into whatever seemed "cool" at the moment to learn many valuable lessons.
Recently, I was daydreaming out of my living room window, when I spotted Ace, the world's most lovable mutt and my devoted companion. I decided to test his hearing by softly repeating his name. Before I got very far into this experiment, the little guy perked up, stared into the window and started making circular motions with his tail. Like any rational animal or human being, he was delighted to see me. However, he heard my voice before he saw me, and that was enough to totally shift his focus from everything around him. He sat at attention, awaiting a command or maybe just a piece of bacon; I'm never sure.
The thing is, with almost a whisper, I had his full attention. He could have chosen to chase all of those birds that wisely stay out of his grasp, or chase a car along the fence line for no apparent reason. Plus, nothing seems to please him more than diving into the kiddie pool that supplies his daily beverages and the resulting coughing fit that follows. The poor guy sticks his whole mouth under water while flavoring the pool with his scent, and he invariably inhales water that was never meant for breathing. I'm sure he will soon discover that he is not a fish, though he's been at this for two years.
With all those choices, it was the sound of my voice calling his name that captivated him, because he was focused. He knows what he wants most, and that is his priority.
If you have paid attention, you know where I'm headed. As a Christian, I have often complained about not being able to hear God's voice as clearly as I would like. You may be doing the same thing right now. My dog and I would like to ask you a question: where is your focus? What matters to you is what draws your energy and attention, and you can't fake it. Your ears are telling you where you stand by what tickles and attracts them most.
It's no wonder that Jesus said "He that has an ear, let him listen." He is implying that we may have the capacity to hear, but we must also make the choice to listen. That choice brings focus, and focus gives way to hearing, which will eventually thrust you into a world of delight as you hear His voice.
As believers, our hearts are His, but if we lose focus, we can be quickly fooled into chasing our tails or choking on the water we inhaled that was meant for drinking. We are clueless without the Master's voice, no matter how long we've sat in a pew.
Perhaps it's time to listen for His words more intently and to follow them wholeheartedly, knowing that our ears will always hear the voice we love the most. Choose wisely. Ace will tell you to heed the voice of the One with the bacon. Everyone else will leave you hungry and chasing your tail.