His Listening Heart


One of my sons when he was little had an endearing habit of grabbing my face so that I would look at him while he was talking. I confess that as a busy mom I was often distracted and found myself half-listening to my talkative son and this was his way of grabbing my attention and ensuring that I was focused on him.

Even at such a young age, my son had a built in longing to be heard and understood, to be loved and valued for who he was.

We all have a yearning deep in our soul to be heard and understood, love and valued for who we are.
Have you ever been talking on the phone with a friend when you get a little niggling doubt that they might not really be listening to you? It can be devastating to bear your soul, only to discover later in the conversation that they haven’t even heard a word you’ve said.

Do you ever secretly wonder if God is the same way? He’s got so much on His mind, demanding His attention, how could He ever have time to listen to your concerns? Does He really have the time to stop, bend down and listen to you?

Look at what Psalm 116:1-2 says, “I love the LORD because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy. Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!”

This is God in relationship with us!

Drawing close. Bending down. Listening intently. Loving fully.

Isn’t this the kind of God we’ve been searching for?

Just as a child longs to have his parent’s undivided attention, our heart longs for God’s ever attentive love. He made us this way. He put within us this longing.

But so often we go away from Him and not towards Him. We ignore the need of our heart and turn to other things to satisfy the deep longing of our soul. Then because these things never completely satisfy us, we get disillusioned in our faith, wonder if God even cares and question whether He is really listening or not.

But amazingly He is listening and He is waiting for us to turn to Him. And when we finally do He bends down and gently takes our face in His hands, wipes the tears from our eyes and says, “I’m listening, my child, what do need to tell me?”

By Kristi Huseby
Used by Permission

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