Have you ever noticed how much power there is in the act of listening?
Not just hearing, not just waiting for your turn to speak, but truly listening—the kind of listening that creates space for the other person to feel seen, valued, and known.
It’s such a simple thing, but in the fast-paced, noisy world we inhabit, it feels almost revolutionary. I’m not very good at this—I have to remind myself, or at least, my wife Kerry has to remind me, usually with a nudge under the table as we dine with others.
James, in his letter to the early church, captures this brilliantly when he writes, “Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:19-20, ESV). It’s like James is inviting us to pause, to resist the urge to fill the silence, and to lean into the sacred rhythm of listening.
Think about Jesus and how often He modelled this. One of my favourite moments is in Luke 24, on the road to Emmaus. There He is, walking with two disciples, and what does He do? He doesn’t jump straight in with answers or correction. Instead, He asks a question: “What is this conversation that you are holding with each other as you walk?” (Luke 24:17). And then—He listens. He lets them pour out their confusion, their grief, their dashed hopes. He doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t rush. He listens twice before He speaks once. And when He does speak, His words bring life, clarity, and hope.
Lots of times, we have the prophets saying, “The Word of the Lord came to me, saying…” One thing we know or can ascertain about the prophets is that they listened; they were attentive. You can’t really interrupt God when He speaks, so listening is a little bit easier (that is, unless you are Abraham and Moses, who both chipped in little remarks as God was speaking to them). You don’t have to tie this “lost art” to prophecy—we need it in every area of life.
This is the heart of mentoring. It’s not about having all the answers or solving someone’s problems. It’s about creating space for the other person to process, to feel heard, to encounter the Spirit of God in the midst of their journey. When we listen like Jesus did, we’re saying to the other person, “You matter. Your story matters. I’m here to walk with you, not fix you.”
So, the difficulty is: how do we apply this? The next time you sit with someone—whether they’re a friend, a mentee, or someone seeking your counsel—resist the urge to jump in with advice or solutions, or trade stories (I’m guilty!). Instead, ask a thoughtful question and then truly listen. Let there be pauses; don’t rush to fill them. Allow the Spirit to work in the silence, and then, when it’s time to speak, let your words flow from a place of love, empathy, and understanding—not a need to prove yourself.