The Sacred Art of Listening: Grief, Presence, and Companionship

In our culture, listening is often undervalued. We reward the loudest voices, the most confident speakers, the ones who seem to have all the answers. To listen, in contrast, is sometimes considered weak, passive, even insignificant. Em Griffin, in Making Friends, names this dynamic well when he describes listening as a “low-status occupation.”

But in pastoral care, and especially in grief companionship, listening is not weakness. It is strength. It is not passive. It is active, sacrificial, and deeply spiritual.

When someone is grieving, what they often long for is not quick answers or theological platitudes, but the presence of another human being who will truly hear them. Listening becomes more than a skill; it becomes an act of love. In silence, in eye contact, in shared tears, we create a sacred space where grief is honored and dignity is restored.

The Scriptures remind us of this sacred posture:

• “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.” (James 1:19)
• Elijah encountered God not in the earthquake, wind, or fire, but in the “still small voice” (1 Kings 19).
• Jesus Himself healed and comforted not only through His words, but also through His presence—He listened to the cries beneath the words, the pain behind the silence.

This is the heart of grief companionship. To listen is to lean in with humility, to set aside our need to fix, explain, or control, and instead to honor the sacredness of another’s story. Listening, in this sense, is sacramental. It is a channel through which the love of Christ flows into another’s brokenness.

And it is here that denotation and connotation matter deeply. Words like loss, home, or hope carry literal definitions (denotation), but they also carry profound emotional layers (connotation). To listen well is to hear not just the dictionary meaning, but the heart meaning; to sense what is unspoken, to recognize the weight that lies beneath the surface.

Grief, after all, cannot be solved like a problem. It can only be accompanied. It is not a matter of getting the “right words” but of showing up with the right presence. As Henri Nouwen reminds us, our woundedness can become a source of healing when we allow it to foster empathy and deep listening.

In the kingdom of God, it is not the loudest who carry the greatest authority, but the ones who know how to listen. Listening is how prophets heard God. It is how Jesus noticed the overlooked. It is how the early church grew; through stories shared, lives held, tears carried together.

As grief companions, let us reclaim the sacred art of listening. Not as a “low-status” act, but as a profoundly Christlike one. For sometimes the most healing gift we can offer is not our words, but our willingness to sit in silence and say with our presence: You are not alone.

Ze Selassie (Chaplain)
Christian Leaders Alliance
MA Candidate, Christian Counseling
Ordained Minister & Grief Companion

My destination is a place that requires a new way of being.
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