A Tale of Two Listeners

     I help with our church Awana program on Wednesday nights. I am a listener. My job is to listen to the girls recite their memory verses.  For that I only need to attend the last half hour of Awana. But the last two weeks I filled in for a missing leader, so I was there for the teaching time also. The long time lecturer gave a couple engaging personal stories about wisdom before he spoke about the Bible's wisdom books--Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and Song of Solomon. I had heard him speak before, and noticed he has a tendency to teach concepts and ask questions that are either over the student's heads or so vague that, even I, struggle to follow. When I was not busy redirecting an ADHD girl in my row who was not just wiggling but seemed to be pantomiming a debutante putting on makeup, I found myself only half listening. I was thinking of telling the problem child to channel her excess energy into counting chairs in the choir loft--like I was.
     Later, while the girls were playing games in the gym, I visited with Natalie, the leader I usually assist. She was so excited about the wonderful lecture we had just heard. She asked if there was any chance it had been recorded (no), because he had condensed an important principle into just a few words, but she couldn't remember the specifics. Natalie told me she had been praying to hear the teaching through the ears of a child, as if it were all new, and every lecture seemed to speak directly to her. Meanwhile I, the listener, had tuned out after the illustrations.
     I know we were at the same lecture, she sat in the row behind me. But only one of us had listening ears, and it was not me--the one who has "Listener" printed on my name tag. This is my confession and, unfortunately true, Tale of Two Listeners. It would make an engaging personal story if I ever need to explain the concept of irony.