James 1:19 Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger;(ESV)
For the last two messages, the questions have been about us. Am I here? Where do I keep going? Why?
Now we’re going to do something much more dangerous. We’re going to look at someone else.
Maybe you’ve noticed it already. Someone you love seems distant. They stop talking when a certain subject comes up. They don’t seem interested in something they once cared about. They’re physically present, but something seems different.
Maybe they’re checking out. Maybe.
That’s an important word. Maybe.
You can observe someone’s behavior. You can’t directly observe their heart.
You can see that someone became quiet. You can’t see why.
You can notice that someone stopped initiating conversations. You don’t automatically know what caused it.
You can notice that your spouse seems distracted whenever a particular subject comes up. You don’t know from that observation alone whether they’re angry, afraid, exhausted, hurt, bored, overwhelmed, thinking about something else, or simply having a bad day.
Observation gives us a reason to ask a question. It doesn’t give us permission to invent the answer.
That’s where James gives us a remarkably useful order:
Quick to hear.
Slow to speak.
Slow to anger.
That order matters when someone we love seems to be disappearing.
Instead of: “You don’t care anymore.”
Try: “I’ve noticed you’ve gotten really quiet whenever this comes up. Is something going on?”
Instead of: “You never listen to me.”
Try: “I feel like I’m losing you when we talk about this. Am I reading that correctly?”
Instead of deciding why someone left, give them an opportunity to tell you where they went. Then listen.
Their answer may surprise you.
You may discover that they aren’t checked out at all. You may discover that they’re exhausted. You may discover that something completely unrelated has been occupying their mind. You may discover that the subject reminds them of something painful. You may discover that they stopped participating because they don’t believe anyone wants to hear what they have to say.
And there’s another possibility we probably don’t want to consider.
You may be part of the reason they leave.
That doesn’t automatically mean you’ve done something wrong. But if someone you love repeatedly disappears during certain interactions with you, love should make you curious enough to ask why.
Maybe they expect an argument. Maybe they don’t feel heard. Maybe every time they answer honestly, you immediately defend yourself. Maybe they’re afraid of disappointing you. Maybe something happened between you that was never actually resolved.
Or maybe none of those things are true.
That’s why we ask.
Jesus asked questions constantly. He asked people what they wanted. He asked what they were discussing. He asked what they believed. He asked people questions even when He already knew far more about the situation than they did.
We usually don’t have that advantage. So questions should come even more naturally to us.
There’s also a reason this message came last.
It’s much easier to diagnose someone else than ourselves.
We can spend hours examining another person’s silence while never questioning our own. We can identify exactly where our spouse seems disengaged while ignoring the places where we disappeared months ago.
So before asking someone else, “Where did you go?” we should already be familiar with asking ourselves, “Where am I?”
And if love causes us to notice that someone seems to be drifting away, love should also determine what we do with that observation.
Not prosecution. Not accusation. Not interrogation.
Invitation.
“I’ve noticed something.”
“I care about you.”
“I could be wrong.”
“Help me understand.”
Then be prepared to hear the answer. Even if the answer involves you.
Sometimes the most loving thing we can do when someone appears to be checking out isn’t dragging them back into the room.
It’s making sure they know someone noticed they left.
And then asking why.
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