“It might be cancer.” When those words were spoken, it wasn’t clear who was more stunned—Michael or me. He was our beloved small group pastor. A true people person, Michael was the lubricant which kept staff friction to a minimum. Quick to laugh, he loved good steak, good wine, and good conversation.
We sat less than a foot apart in the small dining room, surrounded by 20 other church leaders. He was grooming me to teach them how to listen well. Everyone paired off and took turns sharing something personal for 10 minutes. The listener’s role was to take everything in without interrupting and then incisively mirror back what we had heard. But when the word cancer came out of his mouth, the game plan changed. I leaned in and asked, “Wait! What did you just say?” He repeated himself and when the enormity dropped in, we looked at each other and both started to cry. The previous day, Michael had visited a specialist in the hope of discovering the cause for his ongoing abdominal pain. He received the diagnosis of stage four colon cancer the following week and died 20 months later at age 36.
Seven years have passed since that morning in the church dining room, but I remember it vividly. Because we were focused on listening well, there was none of the normal half-tuned-in-half-tuned-out that I am guilty of far too often.
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