Nathan sat on the back porch, staring out at the quiet lake. He took a slow sip of coffee, his heart heavy with regret. He had always prided himself on being a man of strong opinions, a leader in his community, and someone who never backed down from a debate. But tonight, he realized something: in his relentless pursuit of being right, he had alienated those who mattered most.
It started with his best friend, Greg. They had grown up together, inseparable since childhood. They shared their dreams, their faith, and their families. But over time, their conversations became more about proving points than understanding each other. Politics, theology, parenting—whatever the topic, Nathan felt the need to assert his position. One day, after a particularly heated discussion, Greg had simply stopped calling. The silence had stretched into months, then years.
Nathan also thought of his daughter, Emily. She used to come to him for advice, eager to share her dreams and struggles. But he had noticed her pulling away, offering only short responses when he spoke. She had told him once, "Dad, I don’t feel heard when we talk. It’s like you’re always preparing your next statement instead of really listening to me." Her words had stung, but he had brushed them off at the time.Tonight, however, Nathan found himself reflecting on James 1:19: "Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry." It hit him—he had been quick to speak and slow to listen, the opposite of what God called him to do.
Determined to change, he reached for his phone and called Greg. When Greg answered, there was a hesitation, but Nathan spoke first. "Greg, I miss you. I realize I’ve spent more time debating you than listening to you. I’m sorry. Can we meet up?" To his relief, Greg agreed.The next morning, they met at a diner. Instead of leading the conversation, Nathan asked Greg about his life and truly listened. For the first time in years, they laughed and reconnected. Greg’s eyes softened. "I missed this, man. I missed us."
That evening, Nathan visited Emily. Sitting down beside her, he admitted, "Emily, I’ve been a terrible listener. I want to hear you, really hear you. Can you tell me what’s on your heart?" She hesitated at first, then slowly opened up about her struggles at work, her dreams, and even her doubts. It was a sacred moment of reconnection, a rebuilding of trust that had been slowly chipped away.
As the weeks went on, Nathan committed himself to practicing The Exchange—not just speaking, but engaging in real, heartfelt conversations. He learned to hold his tongue, to ask questions, to be present. In doing so, he saw his relationships transform. He felt the weight of pride lift and the warmth of restored love settle in its place.He also became aware of the relationship killers he had let fester. Unrestrained criticism, divisive conversations, and pride had once ruled his interactions. But through humility, patience, and God’s grace, he saw his relationships flourish.As he sat once again on his porch, his phone buzzed. A message from Greg: "Hey, brother. Just wanted to say I appreciate you. Let’s get our families together soon." And another from Emily: "Love you, Dad. Thanks for listening."
As Nathan sat on the porch in his favorite chair reading His Bible searching for God's wisdom, he took these words to heart, realizing that true strength was not in proving a point, but in building bridges. Colossians 3:12-14 (NIV) says, "Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience... And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." He smiled, his heart light. He had rediscovered the beauty of The Exchange, and with it, the joy of truly loving others through the gift of listening.
In His love,
Pastor Tim Burt
