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Why Good Listeners Make Better Spouses
When Christopher and I decided that our dating relationship was serious enough to warrant an introduction to my father, we packed up my Subaru and headed to New Jersey. As we approached the New York state line, I realized that Christopher had talked almost nonstop through two states. I turned to him and said, “You know, I’m starting to feel like a tree, as if it doesn’t really matter to you whether I’m listening or not. I know you’re aware of my presence because the car is moving and you’re not driving, but it doesn’t seem as though my thoughts and opinions matter.” After an awkward pause, he said, “You’re correct.” And then finished his story. That exchange left me wondering if our vastly different styles of communication would become an issue later on. (Short answer: yes. See below.)
Christopher has an enviable command of the English language. He’s witty, precise, and persuasive. But because he’s a verbal processor, he sometimes travels through a circuitous labyrinth of words to figure out what he thinks, holding me hostage along the way.
My preferred style of communication is to use the fewest words possible. I constantly edit my thoughts before opening my mouth, assuming others will grow impatient or bored if I talk too long. That economy of words makes for excellent tweets but can come off as intimidating or even brusque.
Because Christopher and I use words for a living, it would be easy to assume that we never struggle to effectively communicate with each other. Truth be told, we’ve struggled a lot. Many factors contribute to this, including our families of origin and our strong personalities. He grew up in a loquacious household where word count trumped listening. I grew up in a stoic family where much was left unsaid. After we took a personality test in premarital counseling, our pastor drew in a deep breath and tried his best to soften the news that we were off the chart in opposite directions on several key traits. There have been many times when we’ve wondered if our struggle to communicate well was unique to us or common to all married couples.
God demonstrated the power of words by speaking the universe into existence ex nihilo—making something from nothing. He set humanity apart from all other created beings by giving us the gift of speech. Because we are made in God’s image, we too have the capacity to use words for life-giving, creative purposes.
Unfortunately, our use of language sometimes falls woefully short of God’s intention. Husbands and wives can spend hours talking and not move one inch closer to really loving, appreciating, or understanding each other. Author Ann Voskamp believes, “Love isn’t a function of communication so much as Love’s a function of communion.” 1 One of the ways husbands and wives can move beyond simple communication into a place of intimate communion is to open their hearts to God and each other through the act of sacred, or spiritual, listening.
Unlike hearing, sacred listening doesn’t happen automatically. Adam McHugh writes in The Listening Life, “Hearing is an act of the senses, but listening is an act of the will.… Listening is about more than straining to hear voices; it’s about preparing the conditions of our hearts, cultivating an openness inside us. In this way, listening is a posture, one of availability and surrender.” 2
In order to cultivate this kind of relational spaciousness with our spouses, we have to push through external and internal barriers (such as distractions and selfishness) and choose to be physically, emotionally, and spiritually present. When we succeed, we impart value and worth to our spouses, which is healing in and of itself. Listening then becomes “a fundamental means by which we … fulfill the call to honor others above ourselves.” 3
But that’s not all. As we honor our spouses by listening, our reactions to their stories sometimes reveal areas of resistance and sin within us. Sacred listening gives the Holy Spirit room to bring conviction, thus transforming the one speaking and the one listening. As we grow in our willingness and ability to listen to each other, our hearts will soften and our love will grow exponentially.
Stiff Competition
Most of us listen at 25 percent of our capacity. 4 Christopher and I occasionally dip below that mark. The following two scenarios happen more often than I’d like to admit. Scenario number one: It’s the middle of a workday. Christopher has a rare break and calls to check in. Because I’m an introvert who cringes every time the phone rings, I’m instantly at war with myself. Do I pick up but continue to edit, hoping he fails to notice the faint click of the computer keys? Or do I put the computer on sleep and walk out of the room so I can fully engage? Scenario number two: It’s late in the evening. The chores are done, the dog has been walked, and the two of us collapse on the couch. Before I can formulate a single sentence, he opens his laptop, just to check. Half an hour later, he’s still checking. I give up and go to bed. Why is it so challenging for us to sacrifice our agendas in those moments and really listen to each other?
In our current culture, communication options are ubiquitous. We can reach out and connect in a myriad of ways, including Skype, email, and text. Information bombards us from the moment we wake up until the moment we fall asleep, and even then, more than 65 percent of us keep our devices within an arm’s length of our beds. 5 Disclaimer: I enjoy and rely on social media. It allows me to communicate efficiently and effectively. That said, though technology offers us unprecedented opportunities to share information, it can sometimes make it more difficult for us to truly listen to each other.
The next time you’re in a public place, pay attention to how many couples are “alone together” 6: physically present but emotionally distracted. We now accept that our real-life conversations might be interrupted by a text from the boss, an invitation to FaceTime with our offspring, or a trending hashtag. Technology has trained us to be impatient (slow Internet is inexcusable), not to prattle on (why take 200 characters when 140 will do?), and to value breadth over depth.
Numerous studies have shown that the average adult spends approximately ninety minutes a day engaged in leisure activities online. If you’re spending that much time every day online, “there’s got to be someplace you’re not. And that someplace you’re not is often with your family and friends.” 7 Technology has hoodwinked us into believing that virtual face time will satisfy our relational needs more fully than actual face time. But does it? We should all be routinely asking ourselves if technology is serving us—or if we’re serving it.
How Pain Avoidance, Fear, and Selfishness Affect Our Listening
It’s not simply modern technology that limits our ability to listen. Due to any number of reasons, we sometimes turn away from rather than toward our spouses in the midst of their pain. This was true for me three years ago when Christopher and I sensed that we needed to leave the church where he had been on staff for more than fifteen years. Though we longed to stay, all of the indicators unequivocally confirmed that moving on was the only sane option.
Christopher’s anguish, sense of betrayal, and hurt were palpable. After we said our good-byes to the congregation and packed up his office, the devastating reality of our choice began to sink in. For months we talked, cried, and prayed, but then something shifted in me. I knew he needed more time to deal with his losses, but I found myself growing increasingly impatient. In an effort to hurry him along, I started making suggestions about how to fix things rather than listening and empathizing. As I began to detach, he felt increasingly alone, which intensified his need to talk and made me feel more overwhelmed. Isn’t this type of dynamic what drives some of our most frustrating conflicts within marriage and also within culture?
As it turns out, I was seeking to avoid both his pain and my fears. Fear of failure looms large for me. My perfectionistic tendencies incline me to be all things to all people, particularly my husband. If I failed to assuage Christopher’s pain, would he get angry with me? Or worse, would he descend into depression? And then what? Because I didn’t know what else to do, I selfishly pushed for solutions rather than prioritizing his need to process.
The tendency to fix rather than to simply be present in the face of powerlessness and pain is common, perhaps more so for men than women. According to author Dr. Gary Chapman, “Many of us … are trained to analyze problems and create solutions. We forget that marriage is a relationship, not a project to be completed or a problem to solve.” 8 Trying to fix things gives us something concrete to do and offers us a momentary reprieve from our troublesome realities. In certain situations, it’s actually possible to fix the problem and alleviate the pain. But when we default to this activistic behavior, we often miss what’s more important: to know and love each other more fully and ease the inherent loneliness that all humans experience.
Our selfishness can become another very real impediment to easing this aloneness. Sometimes we want to be heard more than we want to hear. We want to be understood more than we want to understand. We want to be right more than we want to love. To genuinely honor and love our spouses, we need to identify and dismantle the broken habits that block us from this goal. Christ shows us the way.
What Does Jesus Teach Us about Becoming Better Listeners?
Throughout Scripture, Jesus models sacred listening. His conversation with the woman at the well illustrates how transformational it can be. On their way to Galilee, Jesus and His disciples journeyed through Samaria. Based on the orthodox Jewish customs, this was an odd choice. Jews were so antagonistic toward the mixed-race Samaritans that they would normally go miles out of their way to avoid having any contact with them. As the apostles ventured off to find food, Jesus “sat wearily beside the well about noontime. Soon a Samaritan woman came to draw water” (John 4:6–7).
That’s when things got interesting.
In Jesus’s time, it was scandalous for rabbis to talk to a woman who was alone in public. When He asked the Samaritan woman for a drink, He toppled the prevailing ethnic and gender barriers. She understood that something unusual was happening and responded with, “You are a Jew, and I am a Samaritan woman. Why are you asking me for a drink?” (v. 9). Jesus somewhat cryptically replied, “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water” (v. 10).
After a brief discussion about Jacob’s well and the promise of living water (Jesus was referencing multiple Old Testament passages that referred to Him as living water; see Jer. 2:13), Jesus took the conversation to a deeper level by going directly to the heart of the matter: her need for a Savior.
“Go and get your husband,” Jesus told her.
“I don’t have a husband,” the woman replied. (John 4:16–17)
Jesus applauded her honesty and said,
You’re right! You don’t have a husband—for you have had five husbands, and you aren’t even married to the man you’re living with now. You certainly spoke the truth! (vv. 17–18)
In what seems to be a dodge of this confrontation, the Samaritan “keeps the conversation … on the surface, but Jesus listens into the hidden places sunk in her soul and brings her secret pain to the surface.” 9 After Jesus revealed Himself as the Messiah, “the woman left her water jar beside the well and ran back to the village, telling everyone, ‘Come and see a man who told me everything I ever did! Could he possibly be the Messiah?’ So the people came streaming from the village to see him” (vv. 28–30). Several verses later, we see the fruit of their exchange:
Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony. (v. 39 NIV)
How did this short conversation result in such a profound transformation? Jesus valued this woman and treated her with respect. He did not shame, dismiss, or take advantage of her. When she attempted to pull the conversation back to a less vulnerable place, He gently but firmly redirected her. Finally, after she admitted her sin, Christ revealed Himself to her. This exchange seemingly freed her from her shame and transformed her into a bold evangelist.
Levels of Listening
Maybe it’s unfair to hold Jesus out as the model of how to listen well. How many of us have the requisite prophetic gift to understand what our spouses are thinking at any given moment? (Personally, I’m divided on whether or not that would be a good idea.) So what’s the takeaway from Jesus’s conversation with the woman at the well?
We can listen on three levels: passively, actively, or spiritually. Most of the time, we listen passively. Rather than give our full attention, we might avoid eye contact, mumble a quick response, or quickly disengage and return to our own thoughts. When we listen passively, we aren’t expecting the conversation to evolve into anything more than a simple exchange of information.
When we listen actively, we become invested in the conversation. We make eye contact and move close enough for our bodies to touch. We also work to understand the content and the emotional impact of what’s being said. Rather than biding our time until it’s our turn to talk, we fully enjoy connecting. (And in our experience, this type of bonding often leads to great sex!)
The third level is what I refer to as sacred, or spiritual, listening. This is what Jesus did with the Samaritan woman. As our conversations flow, we’re listening and simultaneously discerning what’s happening on the spiritual plane—what the Holy Spirit might be saying. Does my spouse’s tone clue me in to any hidden anger or bitterness? Do those tears communicate that we’re touching some historic pain? The goal is to try to understand how the conversation might usher the kingdom of God into our marriages. Active and spiritual listening both demand that we tune out all other distractions and give ourselves fully to the present moment. Making the commitment to engage in active and spiritual listening at least once a day for ten to fifteen minutes will dramatically increase our trust, affection, and intimacy.
Why Self-Awareness Matters
In order for us to hone our listening skills and move from passive listening to active and spiritual listening, we need to have a basic understanding of who we are and how that relates to our spouses. For example, Christopher and I are tenacious, determined, and at times impatient. We are compulsively creative and addicted to finding God’s beauty everywhere. We are learning to live in faith but still tend to doubt and fear. As mentioned, I have unrealistically high expectations and get disappointed easily. He battles shame.
Here’s how those realities make it difficult for us to listen to each other as we’re planning our vacation. Seven years ago, we successfully blocked off two weeks. I desperately wanted to go someplace beautiful near a large body of water. I had our financial constraints in the back of my mind, but they were in the way back, behind the boxes of Christmas ornaments in the attic. After far too many hours searching on the Internet, I found the perfect house with lots of light, a cook’s kitchen, and a water view. Christopher felt it was too expensive and began his own search. He discovered a rustic cabin that sleeps eight and was suspiciously cheap. Cheap is his love language. As a compromise, we divided our vacation between those two sites.
When we arrived at the rustic cabin, we immediately realized the online description failed to disclose a few key details, such as rodent droppings. While putting away my suitcase, I discovered a hole in the exterior bedroom wall. This increased the airflow, which was important because the windows were nailed shut, but became slightly disconcerting after the sun went down. The supposedly well-stocked kitchen included only a bottle opener, a cheese grater, and a very dull knife. To Christopher’s credit, there was a lovely little brook at the edge of the property.
What does all this have to do with self-awareness and listening? Lots.
Until our fourth trip, we didn’t understand how our failure to listen to each other complicated everything. Christopher’s fear of going over budget caused so much static that he could not hear my desperate need to escape our gritty urban life for a few weeks. I was not expecting a four-star hotel on Maui, but I was pushing our budget beyond his comfort level. My desires drowned out his legitimate concerns. We both lacked sufficient self-awareness to realize how we were missing and disrespecting each other.
Self-awareness means that we see our sin patterns, are grieved by them, and work to overcome them. It means we acknowledge our limitations and their cost to our spouses. To be self-aware is also to admit that we can’t get past our sin and brokenness by sheer determination or intellectual prowess; we need Jesus. If you don’t know what those areas of sin and brokenness are or how they influence your relationship, go ahead and ask your spouse—but not until you’re ready to hear the answer.
The Role of Intentionality and Discernment in Becoming Better Listeners
Several years ago, our church’s small-group pastor was teaching a workshop on listening. After a brief introduction, he summarized the first exercise. We were instructed to pair off in groups of two and have one person talk on any topic for ten minutes without interruption. The listener would then share with the speaker what he or she heard, in terms of actual and emotional content. The small-group pastor and I were paired together. I’ll call him Michael. He went first.
Michael casually mentioned that he had been experiencing abdominal pain and, at his wife’s urging, had finally gone in for some tests. Then he dropped the bomb. “It might be cancer.” Momentarily stunned, I forgot the rules of the exercise and blurted out, “What? Please tell me you’re kidding!” He wasn’t. As I listened to him share this fresh news, we both started crying. By nature, Michael was a sanguine guy. I had never seen him shed tears or express anger. Perhaps a similar conversation would have evolved if we had bumped into each other after church, but I doubt it. Because he knew I was singularly focused on him, he felt enough safety to share his jagged, unguarded emotions. Tragically, it was cancer and it took his life in less than two years.
That morning was a game changer for me. I had assumed I was a good listener, but the exercise revealed my impatience and tendency to control conversations. Since then, I have been attempting to love Christopher and others by listening more attentively without inserting my thoughts, guiding the conversation, or giving advice.
Everyone’s marriage would benefit by practicing this type of listening on a regular basis. Ten minutes might not seem sufficient, but we seldom listen to one another for that long without interrupting. I won’t pretend that Christopher and I make a nightly discipline out of this, but at least during dinner and a few other times every week, we shut down our devices and give each other our undivided attention. By the way, don’t be surprised if you encounter opposition as you embark on this. The Enemy strongly prefers that we remain disconnected and lonely.
In addition to becoming more intentional, we also need to grow in discernment. One of the most difficult aspects of becoming a good listener is learning to identify and understand what’s happening on the different levels of every exchange: what actually occurred (or is occurring), your feelings, and what the conversation says about you (e.g., what’s at stake). 10 In the example I shared about leaving the church we loved, what had happened was we’d come to a theological impasse with several members of the staff. What we felt was betrayal, sadness, and anger. What was at stake was the loss of employment, friends, and our faith community. Each level is highly subjective and loaded with potential land mines because though what happened seems obvious, our biases and wounds alter our perceptions.
To further develop your listening skills, try to (1) give introverts sufficient time to respond, (2) avoid the temptation to minimize or fix, and (3) ask open-ended questions that give your spouse permission to explore their feelings. The biggest payoff will come as we allow our spouses’ words to penetrate our hearts and change us. This is exactly what has happened for Mateo and Sofia.
Mateo and Sofia’s Story
Both from Spanish-speaking countries, Mateo and Sofia exude the warmth and charm so common among those from Latin cultures. He works as an engineer, and she is an entrepreneur with artistic leanings. Of all the topics in the book, the challenges of sacred listening resonated the most with them. I’ll let them jump in.
Mateo: There are two things that make this kind of listening difficult for me. First, we had a dictator running our country for many years. It’s a very authoritative, machismo culture. How can you learn to ask questions and listen when that’s your heritage? If I say to my family, “I feel sad today,” they would probably ask some general questions about how I’m doing but not go deep.
Second, Spanish men are passionate and vocal, but we don’t focus on how we are feeling. If I’m angry, it would be difficult for me to describe why.
Sofia: In addition to the cultural elements, I was an only child and my mom was widowed when I was very young. I struggle with vulnerability because it wasn’t modeled for me. Mateo is a solid guy, and if he falls apart, who will pick up the pieces? Ninety-nine percent of the time, he’s a gladiator. When he shows vulnerability, I can be impatient.
Mateo: Then I feel as though I cannot be weak in front of her because if I’m weak, she tries to fix me. So I’ll just push away and pray about what’s going on. Sometimes that prayer is asking God, “What do You have to say?” My pattern of retreating is based on childhood dynamics. In my family, when there was a conflict among the siblings, everyone would get punished. I learned to go off by myself and figure out what happened.
Sofia: What’s crazy about this is that when he goes away to try to figure things out, it does not help me because I want to solve the problem immediately. We’re project managers. We’re good at making lists and then checking things off. We get exhausted when it comes to trying to figure out how to listen patiently and love each other in our listening. One finite example of this struggle would be the fence around our property. Because we live in a crowded urban setting and had a theft in our house, I asked Mateo to put up a fence, but I was not involved in the design or planning process.
Mateo: I did my research and put the fence up, but the color and design didn’t come out exactly as either of us wanted. She looked at the fence and then told me she wanted me to remove it.
Sofia: Aesthetics are so important to me, and this fence is not pleasing to look at. I can’t detach from the visual component of it. And it’s not just the visuals. It’s symbolic of an ongoing issue for us that when I ask him to do something for me, we may have two separate priorities in mind. So the work gets done but it doesn’t make both of us happy.
Mateo: Not surprisingly, I felt angry and misunderstood. I wanted her to see that the fence was a good thing, and I didn’t want to hear her talk about it anymore.
They looked across the table at each other and then laughed, immediately diffusing the tension.
Sofia: I do feel that we are making progress, but I also feel as though we’re the Israelites, taking a long time and complaining when we don’t really need to. Our faith has definitely helped on this journey. We’ve gone through lots of training to learn how to listen in prayer. When we do that for each other, it’s powerful.
Mateo: I agree. I think some of our most intimate times of listening to each other have happened through prayer. For the last year or so, I’ve also been trying to figure out what motivates me to listen or even do things for Sofia. Am I doing it for God or for myself? A good midwife is there for the mother-to-be. She’s not dictating what’s happening or forcing her agenda on the mother. I guess I’m learning to be a midwife as I listen so that it’s about what Sofia needs rather than what I need.
Like Sofia and Mateo, Christopher and I continue to make discoveries when we engage in sacred listening. These discoveries typically happen when we push everything else to the margins, invite God in, and focus on each other. Obviously, not all of our conversations are holy, tender moments. We’re often downloading information, interrupting, and missing opportunities to connect. Big picture: we’ve grown and we’re committed to keep growing.
Though sometimes I still feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of Christopher’s words, I increasingly value his willingness to share his thoughts with me. Thankfully, he’s learned to give me more time to figure out and articulate my feelings. And no small miracle, I now look forward to long car rides with him because of the opportunity they provide to commune with each other without being interrupted by buzzing gadgets or the ever-present pull of work. When Christopher occasionally gets stuck in a labyrinth, I simply tell him I’m feeling like a tree, and he gets it.
Going Deeper
1. Is there a good balance of listening and talking in your marriage? Does one of you tend to talk more? How does this affect your relationship? If you would like it to be more balanced, how could you make that happen?
2. What’s your relationship like with electronic devices? Is it easy for you to put them away for stretches of time? Consider turning off your electronic devices for a set amount of time every day. See if this increases your ability to listen to each other. (And, please, keep them out of the bedroom. If you need an alarm, buy a clock.)
3. Think of three things you need from your spouse when you have a conversation (physical connection, to be asked follow-up questions, and so on). Is he or she aware of these needs? If not, how can you communicate them?
4. Call to mind a recent argument or difficult conversation you had with your spouse. Are you able to discern the three levels that were going on beneath the surface? In retrospect, what could have made this conversation go better?