Listening is an overlooked form of love.
I went to Coachella for the first time this year and for the three days i was there, I kept returning to this account from the eighth chapter of Acts:
29 The Spirit told Philip, “Go to that chariot and stay near it.” 30 Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. “Do you understand what you are reading?” Philip asked. 31 “How can I,” he said, “unless someone explains it to me?” So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him. 32 This is the passage of Scripture the eunuch was reading: “He was led like a sheep to the slaughter, and as a lamb before its shearer is silent, so he did not open his mouth. 33 In his humiliation he was deprived of justice. Who can speak of his descendants? For his life was taken from the earth.”[b] 34 The eunuch asked Philip, “Tell me, please, who is the prophet talking about, himself or someone else?” 35 Then Philip began with that very passage of Scripture and told him the good news about Jesus.
— Acts 8:29-35
Since my first reading of it, this story has reminded me of my Young Life leader, who walked into my weird, little JR High School life and paid attention in a way that changed my life. He was curious about things he wasn’t familiar with or didn’t understand and asked me questions that not only helped him learn me but helped me know myself. In time, he showed me ways God was already active and alive around me, the way Philip showed the Ethiopian Eunuch.
Over three decades later, I felt a bit like my Young Life leader while watching Justin Bieber sift through videos of himself as a 13-year-old kid. With curiosity, i wondered if God might be reminding him that he was once a precious child (and that, in the eyes of the Father, he still is). I felt like Philip while I listened to thousands of people screaming along with Trent Reznor, “Give me something to believe in.” I wondered if their collective disillusionment with “life as it is” might open the door to deeper hope.
I remembered my Young Life leader showing up to performances of mine while I watched influencers center and celebrate themselves in photos and videos (instead of paying attention to the shows). I felt the same compassionate pull he must have felt while watching me on stage, knowing the fame those influencer-types are seeking is just the shadow of a deeper desire in them to be seen and appreciated by the Author of Life.
I left Coachella, remembering that listening isn’t just a way to collect data; it is a form of love; one that changes the life of those listened to and the lives of those doing the listening. I left Coachella remembering that simply going near is often what God asks me to do, not only to be close to someone else in need of guidance but so that I can learn to see him where and how he chooses to show up. I left Coachella remembering that one of the reasons I find the mission of Young Life so beautiful and so compelling is the relentlessly hopeful assumption that, wherever I go, if I pay attention, I will find (and be found by) Jesus Christ, who is before all things and in whom all things are held together.
