“Ugh, I can hear you!” I said with frustration underneath my breath, but still loud enough for my mom to hear. 

A young pre-teen at the time, I don’t recall what my mom was trying to communicate. I had a knack for daydreaming and tuning people out. This was one of those moments. 

“I know you hear me, Jillian,” my mom quickly replied. “But are you listening?”

“Same thing,” I snapped, rolling my eyes. 

“Not quite,” she answered back. “Hearing means you can hear the sounds coming out of my mouth. Listening means you are using your brain to pay attention to what those sounds mean.”

I sat in silence pondering that for a while. The last thing I wanted was for her to be right, but deep down I knew she was. 

All throughout my life, my mom’s words have stuck with me. They are a constant reminder to stay focused. Pay attention. Listen and not only hear. Especially when it comes to the words of God. Jesus said we are blessed when we hear and obey God’s words (Luke 11:28). But this obeying first requires us to listen. 

Living in Haiti taught me how to listen. Or rather, it leant me an environment where listening was much simpler. When the electricity turned off at night, I could listen. When the rain came and life stopped outside, I could listen. When the Voodoo drums beat loud in the distance, surprisingly, I could listen. 

Now that I’m living back in America, however, listening feels so much more difficult. This place is full of noise. Here, the electricity never turns off. Here, the rain rarely cancels plans. Here, there are no Voodoo drums… just a TV and a smartphone. And if listening proceeds obedience (which it does), I need to find a way to get quiet. I need to learn to stop and listen so that I may obey.