Hear and Live

Hear and Live

To listen is more than to hear. The Latin root of the word—audire—means not simply the act of registering sound, but the deeper willingness to receive, to be attentive, to open the heart. From this same root comes ob-audire, the origin of our English word obedience.

In Scripture, obedience is never mere compliance. It is deep listening—a posture of the soul that leans toward God, ready to hear His voice and follow His gentle leading. To obey is to attune our inner ear to the One who speaks truth, love, and life.

Latin gives us another illuminating word: surdus, meaning “deaf.” From this root comes our word absurd. And here lies a profound spiritual truth: when we cease listening to God—when we become spiritually surdus—life becomes absurd.

When we do not listen to God, we inevitably listen to something else: the noise of culture, the anxieties within, and the loud voices of fear or distraction. These voices pull us away from truth, away from our purpose, away from the One who knows our name.

The story of salvation is the story of listeners.
Not perfect people, but receptive people—men and women who turned their hearts toward God and acted on what they heard.

Abraham listened, and set out into the unknown.
Moses listened before the burning bush, and a nation walked free.
The prophets listened to God’s word and proclaimed truth despite resistance.
Mary listened and said, “Let it be done to me,” allowing the Word to take flesh.
Jesus listened perfectly: “I only do what I hear from the Father.”
Samuel, Paul, and the early disciples all heard a voice—and their “yes” changed history.

Listening always leads to action.
Hearing becomes doing.
Receptiveness becomes faithfulness.

The spiritual life teaches us that listening to God and listening to others cannot be separated. A heart open to God becomes a heart open to the people God places before us.

True listening—slow, attentive, unhurried—is one of the greatest gifts we can offer another person.
It creates a space where someone can finally be real.
It invites vulnerability.
It says, without words, “Your story matters. You matter.”

When we listen intently:

• walls come down

• fears loosen

• hearts soften

• trust grows

In a world addicted to speed and noise, the willingness to pause and listen becomes a form of love. It mirrors the way God listens to us—patiently, without rushing, without dismissing, without distraction.

Often someone’s deepest healing begins not with advice, but with being truly heard.

To listen to God is to return to clarity and peace. To listen to others is to extend God’s tenderness into the world. Both forms of listening draw us back to what is real and anchor us in love.

God’s voice is often quiet—not because He is distant, but because He is gentle. Like Elijah on the mountain, we find Him not in the fire or the earthquake, but in the “still, small voice.” And sometimes, that still, small voice comes through the words of another person—if only we listen.

The world offers endless noise; God offers a voice of stillness.
The world pushes hurry; love invites presence.
The world offers absurdity; God offers meaning.

To listen is to live.
To close our ears—to God or to others—is to lose our way.

But every moment we choose attentiveness, openness, and presence—
every moment we listen with the ear of the heart—
we step again into truth, love, and abundance.

May we become people who truly audire:
people who listen deeply,
act faithfully,
and give the gift of presence both to God
and to every person He entrusts to our care.