Monitor Mode

Last week a friend said to me, “I will never understand men!” As easy as it would be to apply this sentiment in the most general way, she was actually thinking of one man in particular, the one who lives in her house. No more detail is necessary than simply to say that HE was determined to improve their digital communication capabilities while SHE wanted no part of it. SHE couldn’t understand why HE wasn’t getting this; HE couldn’t understand why SHE didn’t embrace the obvious improvement this would be in their lifestyle, if not their life.

Being a man myself, I could speak into this from a very strong position. “What you need to remember,” I told my friend, “is that when we men are sufficiently determined to change our environment, we slip into ‘monitor mode’ with the greatest of ease.” [Confession: I didn’t actually say “monitor mode,” I just think better when I write than when I talk.] Anyway, the point is that “monitor mode” is where we go when we don’t really want to participate in the conversation, we’re just waiting for the other person to say what we want to hear. Once we hear it, we can exit from “monitor mode,” return at least partially to the real world, and move on with changing our environment, ideally using expensive tools and making a lot of noise in the process. In this case HE wanted to hear something like “this is SUCH a great idea; I can’t wait until it works!” SHE wasn’t in that frame of mind, and “monitor mode” took over.

How is this about Lent? Beginning with the Ash Wednesday sermon, and continuing through this past weekend, one of the key words has been “sacrifice.” The centrality of the cross for mission begins with the willingness of Jesus to make the once-for-all sacrifice; Paul sacrificed his superior powers of reasoning and rhetoric in favor of preaching only Christ and Him crucified so that any and all would be won to Jesus solely by the power of the Gospel; we are called during this season of penitence and preparation to sacrifice—what? Something of importance? Something that costs us something? Something to remind us of what our priorities should be? In the midst of deciding whether to give up coffee, beer or chocolate, cable TV, IM-ing or some other newly-created distraction, perhaps we can consider the sacrifice of something more central, something more integral to who we are right now. Because who we are right now and who God made us to be aren’t exactly the same thing right now. Perhaps we can consider sacrificing that “way that we just are” that makes us more interested in ourselves than others, more interested in us than Him.

It’s pretty easy—and I’m pretty sure this applies to women as well as men—to move “in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye” from listening mode to “monitor mode.” And it’s just as easy for us to do that in our vertical relationship as in our horizontal ones. How often do we monitor His various channels of communication, waiting to hear whatever it is we’re waiting for at the moment? How easily, how quickly and how often do we give up monitoring, let alone really listening, and do what we can on our own? Perhaps we could begin this Lent by asking for the grace to sacrifice our personal “monitoring modes” in favor of a renewed determination to really listen and respond.

Lord, give me a willingness to listen as much as I talk—to You and to all those you will put in my path this week. Give me grace to listen, not just monitor; give me a will to respond, not just agree. And give me these things not because I’ve earned them, or deserve them, or even because I’m asking for them—please Lord, grant me these things so that I can be more like You next week than I was last week. In the name of Your Son Jesus I ask these things, and look forward to listening to Your answer! Amen.