Listen by pushing the arrow.

We all know the conversational hijacker.  This person hijacks your story in order to talk about themselves.  They leave your story by exclaiming, “The same thing happened to me, too;” then proceed to turn the attention from you to them.   Your pain just became an opportunity to talk about their pain.

It’s easy to shanghai another person’s story by using it to talk about our experience; especially when theirs sounds so similar to ours; but doing so forces the hurting person to take care of us now. Sharing our own experience too quickly doesn’t always build a bridge to them as we imagine it would.

When engaging another person, stay in their story.  Don’t hijack their story to talk about yours. 

"Push the arrow:"  the antidote for The Hijacker
This idea is from Adam McHugh; The Listening Life.  McHugh asks us to imagine a large arrow hovering in the space between us and the other person. The arrow will always swivel towards the person who is getting the attention.  McHugh say, "So, as the listener in this conversation, your goal is to keep the arrow pointing at the other person for as long as possible."  Make the conversation about them.  The arrow will always want to return to you, however, so pushing it towards the other person requires vigilance.1

Push the arrow.

1.  The Listening Life, Adam S. McHugh; p. 143

You Are A Force Multiplier.

 

If you listen deeply so that others feel seen, heard and honored, you are a "force multiplier."

In the military, snipers on over-watch are called, "force multipliers" because they guard the forward advance of ground troops, insuring that an area is cleared of enemy presence prior to the arrival of ground forces. The sniper is "multiplying" the force or effectiveness of the ground troops by caring for their safety.

When people feel more securely grounded because of your focused attention, you are multiplying their effectiveness, or force strength. You are mending the broken heart that their own life and ministry flows from. As they heal, their force effectiveness multiplies.


Souls repair through listening.  According to Robert Logan, the word "equip, as in "equipping the saints for ministry," can mean, "put into working order," or in other places, "repair." In classical Greek, "equip" can mean, "the setting of a broken bone." (Thanks to Father Andrew of HeartSync Ministry for the reference here.)

Those who help others feel well-heard are Force Multipliers who "equip the saints for ministry."  When you listen deeply, you are Force Multiplier.

The Surprising Power of Listening

The burned ash of falling buildings covered their faces.  Eye sockets and foreheads were smeared in grey soot.  Eye lashes were gritty with airborne particulate, and ears stuffed with cinder. Only the skin where their medical face masks were tied on showed pink at all, having escaped the swirling ash from the World Trade Towers.

Morning after morning the ferry took the workers, traumatized into silence, to Ground Zero.  It was on the Staten Island Ferry, serving as a transport for workers in the aftermath, that the chaplain noticed the woman.

Despite the soaring temperatures that day, the frightened woman wore a fur coat.  She was maternal-aged; perhaps 40-something.  Draped in jewelry, she murmured aloud to no one in particular.  Clutching something in her pocket, she muttered like a mad woman,  "I'm not going to let them get us again.  I'll just put some of this in my daughter's milk while she's sleeping.  She'll never feel it.  Then some for me.  I'm not going to let them do this to us again."  

The chaplain was rightfully frightened by her intent.  Feeling compelled, but having no idea what to say to this woman, the chaplain was suddenly distracted by a voice calling behind him, "Excuse me just a moment."

After only seconds passed, he turned back around.  And she was gone.

The boat having just docked, he ran down the gangplank searching frantically for this woman because he knows that a baby will soon be poisoned, and her mother will commit suicide if she's not intercepted.  Unable to find her, he approached the workers' tent where his comrades prepare for the day.  Telling his story, the guilt-ridden chaplain confessed his failure to say something, anything, to the woman.  They responded, "It's not your fault;  it's okay.  It'll be alright."  Meager attempts to dampen the reality.

At this point, the tent flap opened and the missing woman walked into the tent.  The woman spotted the chaplain and with a purposeful gait, walked right up to him declaring, "There you are.  I just want to thank you so much for your advice.  Thank you for telling me that what I was doing was insane.  Look, here's the stuff; take it.  Here's my card with my cellphone number.  Come and visit.  All is well; I'm just so grateful for the word you told me; how Jesus loves me,"  she says.

And with that, she walked out of the tent.

The stunned chaplain turned to his fellow workers and admitted, "I never said a word to that woman.  All I did was listen."

[I heard Dr. Russ Parker tell this true story.   I've done my best to recapture it here.  The original account was written by a chaplain at Ground Zero. I'm unsure of the book's title.  With thanks to Russ Parker; whose stories offer some of the best theology I've ever heard.]