Four Cartons Of Milk

Let me start with something familiar.

Have you ever been in a conversation where you were doing everything right on the outside—nodding at the right moments, making eye contact, even saying “yeah” or “uh-huh”—and then suddenly you realized you had absolutely no idea what the other person had just said?

You were there.

Your ears were working.

But somewhere along the way, your mind quietly slipped out the side door.

If that’s ever happened to you, you’re not broken. You’re human.

It happens to all of us.

It happens in class.

It happens at home.

It happens in meetings.

And let’s be honest—it happens in church.

I know it happens because it happens to me.

I’ve been halfway through a conversation when I suddenly realized I wasn’t listening anymore—I was waiting.

Waiting for my turn to talk. Waiting for the point.

Waiting for it to be over.

Waiting to move on to whatever was next.

And when that realization hits, you don’t interrupt and say, “Sorry, I checked out.”

You nod harder.

We all do.

Which tells us something important right away: hearing and listening are not the same thing.

You can hear words without letting them in.

You can hear sound without absorbing meaning.

You can hear instructions and still miss intention.

You can hear truth and still keep it at a safe distance.

And here’s what surprised me when I started paying attention to this in Scripture.

Jesus noticed this constantly.

In fact, there’s a sentence He repeats again and again throughout His teaching. It’s short. It’s simple. And because it sounds obvious, we usually skim right past it.

He says,

“He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”

That’s a strange thing to say—because everyone there had ears.

Jesus isn’t talking about volume.

He’s not saying, “Pay closer attention.”

He’s not scolding distracted people.

He’s saying something deeper.

He’s saying, “Just because you can hear Me doesn’t mean you’re actually hearing Me.”

What’s important is who He says this to.

He says it to crowds.

He says it to religious leaders.

He says it to His own followers.

Which tells us something critical right at the start.

Jesus never assumed people were listening just because He was speaking.

That alone should stop us.

We tend to assume the opposite. If someone is talking and the room is quiet, we assume listening is happening. If people are seated, facing forward, and not interrupting, we assume the message is landing.

Jesus doesn’t make that assumption.

He knows something about people.

He knows that listening requires permission.

You don’t listen to everyone equally. You decide—often in seconds—who gets access to your attention.

You decide:

Is this safe?

Is this real?

Are they talking with me or at me?

Is this worth staying present for?

If the answer is no, you don’t rebel.

You don’t argue.

You just drift.

And drifting is quiet.

You’re still in the room.

Still nodding.

Still outwardly cooperative.

But inwardly, you’ve checked out.

Jesus understands that drift.

So instead of forcing attention, He teaches differently. He tells stories. He asks questions. He leaves space. He allows people to engage at the level they’re willing.

Every once in a while, He pauses and says,

“If anyone has ears…”

Meaning: This only works if you want it to. That matters.

A lot of people think faith works by pressure. Or fear. Or obligation. Or guilt.

Jesus never uses those.

He doesn’t shout louder when people don’t listen.

He doesn’t trap people into agreement.

He doesn’t force understanding.

He invites listening.

That’s why His words land differently on different people.

Same words.

Same moment.

Different ears.

That difference isn’t about intelligence.

It’s not about education.

It’s not about being religious.

It’s about openness.

Listening always carries risk.

If I really listen, something might change.

If I really hear, I might not be able to stay exactly as I am.

If I really listen, I might have to respond.

So we learn how to hear without hearing.

We nod.

We agree.

We stay comfortable.

We process information without offering presence.

Jesus sees it. That’s why He doesn’t begin with commands.

He begins with attention.

Not, “Do this.”

But, “Are you open?”

That’s what “He who has an ear” really means.

It’s not about effort.

It’s about availability.

Which brings us to something most of us already know intuitively.

Listening is not just about words.

You can tell when someone is listening to you even before they speak. You know it by how they’re positioned. Whether they’re leaning in or away. Whether they’re present or distracted. Whether they’re staying with you or waiting for you to finish.

Listening is a gesture.

And when someone truly listens, the message they give isn’t, “I agree with you,” or “I have all the answers.”