My wife turned off the car radio and then paused, as if she were weighing whether or not to speak: “I’ll bet you can’t sit through the whole meeting without saying something.”

“You’re on,” I said as we turned the corner, headed for our weekly Bible study group. My wife’s challenge was part of a running debate we had been having for years. While she chooses her words carefully — speaking only when she feels compelled — I let them fly, my mouth often moving before my mind has had time to catch up. I have never seen this as a fault because someone has to talk, and it’s not as if I dominate the discussion.

I won the bet that night, but when the meeting was over, the group’s leader approached me. With concern flickering in his eyes, he asked, “Is anything wrong, Todd?” Was my silence that unusual?

I felt God’s whisper. In my daily Bible readings, that whisper became a shout as I read my way through the book of Proverbs. The combination of my wife’s challenge and my daily readings has transformed my whole approach to small groups. Now I try to speak less, ask more questions and pray during discussions.

Speak Less
On the night of the bet, I struggled to keep my mouth shut. I saw places to insert my opinion into the conversation, and then, like a hitchhiker who sees the cars streaming past at 80 miles an hour, I watched those opportunities roll into the distance. After a few minutes of conversational whiplash, I stopped thinking about my own opinions. The stream of conversation slowed, and I began to see things I know I would have missed before. This led me to an important realization. Displaying my knowledge had become more important than hearing what others had to say. Not a lot more important, but enough to keep me from carefully listening. If I could just shut my mouth, I would gain more insight from listening than from articulating my responses.

This discovery was reinforced by several verses in the book of Proverbs that compare the “mouth of the fool” to that of the wise. One stands out in my mind from Proverbs 10: “Wise men store up knowledge, but the mouth of a fool invites ruin” (v. 14).

At the time, I did not see myself as a fool who invites ruin, but neither could I call myself “wise in heart.” I caught a glimpse of a flaw in me — I sat prepared to talk, but unprepared to receive. To become wise, I need to clear the shelves of my mind, so I have more space to “store” knowledge. To become wise, I have to talk less and seek wisdom by listening.

Ask More Questions
It has been a few months since that fateful “silent” night. In that time a second change in my thinking has occurred. Instead of wanting to be a man who displays understanding, I want to become one who draws it out of others. Now that I am limiting the number of times I express my opinions during group time, I find myself in a position to ask good questions.

When a man in our group related his bitterness toward his father and his struggle to forgive, I didn’t pontificate on how you should forgive not just seven times, but seven times 70. Instead, I simply asked, “What’s holding you back the most?” My question led him to share more details and even ask the group to pray for him, which we did on the spot.

I feel like God is using me more in the group now than ever. The questions I ask seem to promote deeper sharing and more reflective thinking. Proverbs 20:5 says, “The purposes of a man’s heart are deep waters, but a man of understanding draws them out.”

This proverb reminds me of an image from the movie A River Runs Through It. Set against the cut landscape and spectacular skies of Montana, the film begins with a father teaching his sons the art of fly-fishing. The camera captures the image of a fisherman, knee-deep in the glittering waters of the Blackfoot River, swinging his line in delicate arcs before dropping it lightly on the water’s surface where it rests for but a moment before a fish rises up to strike. A man of understanding is like that skilled fly fisherman. He knows how to cast his questions out into the “deep waters” of a person’s heart. People are enticed to share when they are asked questions that prove someone is listening.

Recently, I was having breakfast with a Christian friend whose marriage was falling apart. His wife had called us for help. I think he expected me to empty a dump truck of advice and criticism on him. Instead, I sat down with him, asked questions and listened. His posture, tight and erect at the start, gradually changed. When he realized I was going to listen, he leaned forward, made eye contact and poured out his story. I gave no advice and made no judgments during the whole hour.

But then he said something I couldn’t ignore: “My plan is to leave her, live in a trailer on our land we own, and just stay involved in the boys’ lives. I can still be a good father, and their mom and I can still be friends.”

It was time for me to say something. So I spoke. I told him I thought he would lose his relationship with his boys if he left and that God wanted to use his marriage to deepen his faith and trust in the Lord. I let words fly that would have stung him an hour earlier, words that probably would have sent him out the door. But because I had asked questions and listened, he was not resistant to my advice.

Pray More
Now that I listen more, it’s easier for me to hear the anger, depression or angst echoing in someone’s voice. This prompts me to pray, right there on the spot. It’s not that I was unwilling to do this before; it’s just that I was too busy thinking about how I was going to respond to the twists and turns of the discussion.

At a recent meeting of our group one of the women shared some of her struggles in parenting her young son. There was a quavering sound in her voice as she spoke. I could have shared advice, sympathetic stories and/or scriptures. Instead, I prayed. Looking at her across the circle, I focused on the tone of her voice and I just prayed for God to comfort and help her. I may never know the effect that prayer had on her, but it had a tremendous impact on me. It increased my love for her and made it possible for me to focus on what was going on in her life.

If I had chosen to speak instead, words would have flowed out of me, and the moment for prayer would have been lost. Praying like this for the people in my group has become a regular habit. Even though they don’t know what I am doing, I feel more connected to them than I ever did when my focus was on sharing advice and opinions.

My prayers also direct the things I do end up saying. When thoughts pop into my mind during a discussion, I don’t just let them loose. I ask God if what I have to say will edify the group, and I try to be sensitive to His leading.

One time, I had a great piece of advice on the tip of my tongue for a new Christian who had recently joined our group. I prayed before I spoke and got a very distinct impression that I should not speak, so I didn’t. One of the other group members asked him a leading question that caused him to discover the truth himself. God doesn’t need my voice to accomplish His purposes.

Words Worth Saying
I feel as if the people in my group listen to me more than they did when I spoke a lot. Maybe that’s because the words I have to say come less frequently. After all, a person in the desert is much more likely to appreciate the rain than someone in Seattle. But I hope the reason goes deeper. I hope it’s because I say things that are more in tune with God’s will. I hope it’s because my words are valuable and well-placed, words like those of Proverbs 25:11: “A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.”

I want my words to be elegantly “set” in the right places of conversation, skillfully crafted by the Holy Spirit, and shining like gold. God used a bet with my wife and verses like these to teach me that the less I talk, the more I grow.