Blessed are those who hear it.

“Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it, because the time is near.” Rev 1:3

Every few years, the audiologist fills my ears with putty, blocking out all sound.  All I can hear is the blood pulsing in my head.  It’s simply an odd sensation, simultaneously calming and terrifying.  It returns me to the womb yet becomes prophetic of a future hearing-less age. Today marked over 40 years of such a reminder.

Four decades of walking into a completely soundproof room, sitting down and staring at a perforated wall decorated with speakers and children’s toys.  Four decades of beeps, boops and bings in tight, uncomfortable earphones.  Four decades of a dislocated voice somewhere above and behind me in my ear – “say the word, cat. Say the word, hat. Tap. Sack.”

I can’t explain the panic I feel when the beep goes silent, but I know it’s still there, just at a lower register. Phantom beeps. My trigger finger quivers every time. I always mumble. I think I can hear it. Or when that voice drops, pulls back, fades away. Sit, hit, tick, thick. 

I think. 

Maybe. Can you say it again?

Few things are as frustrating as experiencing uncertainty with sounds within a hearing world.

Today, I found out my hearing hadn’t changed in 6 years.  I wanted to cry.  Happy cry that is.  

In my line of work, the thought of being a minister who cannot hear is a daunting prospect.  In a faith that teaches “let those who have ears, listen,” it’s never far from my mind that the Word Made Flesh spoke new things into existence.  When my Savior is known as the One who says, “My sheep listen to my voice, I know them and they follow me,” I am always wondering, “Am I hearing Him? Am I following Him?” You can’t escape that the very definition of faithful Christ-following comes from reading and hearing His words, and putting them into practice. And the definition of a pagan is one who “has ears and cannot hear” just like their idol.

Read the pages all you want, but the Word comes to life when spoken over creation, over humanity. And those of us with hearing deficits are ever aware of this dynamic as music plays, voices ring out, passages are read, cues are given. 

I also decided now was the time to replace my 15-year-old hearing aids.  For the past few years, I wasn’t able to replace them for reasons I’d rather not get into. But this old pair represents a major miracle in my life.  Fresh out of seminary, I met with a State Vocational Rehab rep with the hope of getting a new reduced-price pair so that I could be the most effective pastor possible.  He closed his office door, lit a candle and began praying with me. We had a wonderful conversation and I left wondering where in the world was I going to come up with $4,000.  At our next meeting, he asked what if I could cover about 20% of the cost?  $800 was an amazing answer to prayer. Or so I thought.  When the check came through to my audiologist, she contacted me and said, “Since you paid it all up front, the clinic gives a 20% discount.”  A free pair of state-of-the-art hearing aids were now all mine. An everyday reminder of God’s provision.

Today, I made the commitment for another $4,000 in hearing aids.  Only, this time, I received about a 15% discount from a caring audiologist.  This state of the art pair will join with my phone and computer, via Bluetooth.  And now, 40 years after telling people my hearing aids were AM/FM radios, the lie that kept young bullies at bay has become truth. I wanted to cry again. The four year old boy within me is going to finally live out his fantasy dream.

I thank God every day for this reminder of my frailty. Every day since birth, I’ve known that some part of me is broken.  Irreparable.  Already dust.  These broken ears have caused my other senses to grow. I notice just about every hawk on a fencepost while driving.  A well-executed photograph makes me stop in my tracks. Soft ears on my Labrador make my fingers linger longer. The explosion of fresh blueberries on my tongue makes me reach for more. The scent of a lilac bouquet paints a spring scene in my mind. People’s lips form out the full spectrum of emotions beyond words.

And ever before me is the promise of the Lord, that the eyes of the blind will be opened and the ears of the deaf will be unstopped.  Someday, He will look at me and up to heaven, and proclaim with the deep sigh that comes from seeing the broken world around Him - “Ephphatha! (Be opened).”