I’m coming up on my third year of wearing hearing aids. Yes, I’m a bit young for this. Also yes, I should have done it many years ago. My father, bless him, not only left me his extraordinarily large feet, but also the family trait of hearing loss. (Thankfully, he left his balding head to his male heirs.)

Anyone who wears hearing aids can attest that we didn’t know what we were missing before. Voices, birdsong, rustling leaves and running water suddenly present themselves. Taking a walk becomes an immersive experience in the twitter of birds, the breeze in the trees, and acorns dropping to the forest floor.

Because words have long been a challenge to discern, I’m not in the habit of listening to podcasts or talk radio. I rarely watch tv. I even default to texts or email instead of telephone calls as often as possible.

Consequently, I’m used to gaining much of my input through my eyes rather than my ears. I spend a good portion of my time in silence, and thus it’s a simple thing to slip into prayer at any time. There is simply no competing auditory input.

At the same time, I’ve noticed that many of those around me aren’t as comfortable with silence. Any available moments are filled with music or podcasts. I also notice that many of these people struggle to pray, and few seem able to hear the still, small voice of God.

In past years, I knew people who needed to have the television on at all times, even when they weren’t watching it. In these days, our earbuds have taken over that function. How many times have I turned to a person beside me to strike up a conversation, only to be stopped by the sight of that little white stick in their ear?

It’s ironic, really. Some of us put things in our ears to hear the sounds around us. Others put things in their ears to shut them out. They, too, are missing the birdsong.

It’s hard to hear the voice of God when we aren’t listening; when we substitute his voice for others, no matter how good and helpful.

“Hear, O Israel:” Moses wrote in the great Shema, the words that observant Jews say every morning and evening, “The Lord our God, the Lord is One! Elijah heard God’s gentle whisper, and covered his face. “Whoever has ears, let them hear”, Jesus called to his followers.

My hearing aids allow me to better discern the voices around me now, making life much easier. It’s a lesson to me, that there is much more going on than I realized before. And if that’s true on a physical level, how much more true is it of the spiritual? To hear from God, I need to be listening. To listen, I need to give him space to speak—speak in the silence of a heart attuned to his.

Am I listening for God’s voice? Or crowding it out with other things? Are you?

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.

John 10:27