The honor of listening.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to drive a student home from Large Group.  I'm really glad I did because spending time with her struck a familiar chord in me:  how much I love listening to people share their stories.

If you know me well, you know that I really dislike small talk.   What's your name?  What do you do?  Oh?  What are you studying?  Where do you live?  I hate that I often have to collect the basic pieces of information before I can dig deep and get to the more valuable stuff in a conversation.  I want to know what you're passionate about, what you're frustrated with, who you want to become, and what issues you're struggling through.  I want to know your story.  I want to know the real you.

It takes practice, and it takes courage.  It takes practice to think of questions to ask that could nudge the conversation in that direction, to try and read the person in the moment, and without making the person feel awkward or uncomfortable.  It takes courage to ask the deeper questions, to share some of your own real stories, and to actively listen without judgment and without automatically trying to fix problems.

It takes patience, and it takes resilience.  Not everyone you talk to is willing to go very deep right away or at all.  And just because it works out or doesn't work out once doesn't mean others won't share or that the same person wouldn't be willing to share their stories next time.

I don't always attempt to practice or pull together the courage.  I don't always have the patience or the resiliency.  I'm not always intentional.  I'm not always satisfied when I am.  To love someone that way often means you put yourself out there for the other person without expecting anything in return.

The conversation I had with this student I drove home last night was the first I've had with her.  All I did was ask her in what ways God has been challenging her through InterVarsity, and she shared with me about how difficult it is for her to trust people lately.  She shared with me about how she thinks that struggle has come about, with some difficult family situations she's witnessed and has experienced.  She shared so openly without my prompting, all in just a few minutes.

She didn't have to.  She could've answered the question differently or avoided the question altogether, saying, "I don't know."  Instead, she took the brave opportunity of sharing some her story, the real her.  And I felt loved to receive that gift from her.