I got hearing aids this week!!! Am I the only sixty-one-year-old thrilled by the fact that I’ve achieved a symbol of age?? Bring it on, I say! I can hear!

Well. It will take a few more weeks of adjustments before my hearing loss is corrected, but I can certainly hear better.

It’s really strange, quite frankly. You don’t know what you don’t hear until you suddenly hear it. Things like the swish of clothing fabric, or leaves crunching beneath your feet. I hear my hair as it brushes against my ears, and the sound of ripping when I tear a paper towel. Did you ever pay attention to those tiny little sound details? When you don’t know what you’ve been missing, and it suddenly becomes clear, it’s (literally) “ear” opening.

Now, I think you know me well enough to know where I’m going with this; “There’s a Substack for that.” Yep…I’m going to relate my renewed hearing experience to advocacy and the art of listening. In particular, I want to highlight how this proficiency frames the identity, position, and duty of a Help[H]er.

There seems to (regularly) be confusion about what an advocate (Help[H]er) is and does. It’s a fairly novel vocation, one that wasn’t clearly necessary (until now) in Christian institutions. Often, I think folks hear “advocate” and think “activist.” They get visions in their head of second wave feminism and women charging the streets with angry chants and irate messages, burning their bras in protest.

That’s not an advocate.

Or, if not the angry feminist as a visual, perhaps the image generated when one thinks about advocacy is associated more closely with the secular #metoo victim tweeting and subtweeting; hashtagging and uniting across a virtual landscape of shared, horrific experiences. The picture is of “the world—out there” (aka Hollywood), since that’s where the #metoo revelations began.

That’s not an advocate.

In one of the first cases for which I advocated, the case that earned me a “Matthew 18-ing” and cost me and my husband our church, the elder session I had been working with accused me of acting as my care recipient’s “messiah.” They thought I had stepped in as the victim’s savior, pulling the strings and giving orders.

Small (m) “messiah,” is decidedly NOT an advocate.

There seems to be this idea that vulnerable women are incapable of thinking and deciding for themselves. So, apparently women like me, women who have no problem speaking directly, jump in to protect and call all the shots. Brazenly, we take charge and simply substitute a better, kinder authority figure, different from the previous authority structures in a vulnerable woman’s world.

Advocates don’t just exchange one authority structure with another (i.e., themselves).

Another picture I sense is in someone’s purview is that of a silent spectator. In their view, an advocate simply walks alongside a sufferer. Their job is just to be a presence. To demonstrate support. Provide a shoulder. Offer a sympathetic, knowing glance. Or a hug.

Again. Some of these things may be helpful in the practice of advocacy. But that’s not what an advocate is.

I presumed that the above perspectives were unusual. In that first case I probably assumed it was due to the youthfulness and naivety of the session I was trying to help. But the same misunderstanding by an elder board recently happened again. So, I now believe that I’m the one who is likely guilty of the “curse of knowledge.” I know something, and I know it really well. And, because it is innate knowledge, I assume everyone else knows it too. The problem becomes evident when the audience to whom I’m advocating responds to the care recipient’s choices which I’ve simply used my voice to convey. The tables turn and I become the problem. The care recipient’s audience assumes all would be well if I would just get out of the way.

There’s a certain amount of truth in the idea that advocates, “become the problem.” We need to acknowledge and accept that this accusation is characteristic of the position. And, frankly, I welcome blame as long as I’m taking hits instead of the victim. But this still misunderstands what an advocate is and does.

We’ve finally completed the last steps for trademarking the name, Help[H]er®. This word defines the actual role and responsibilities of an advocate for the vulnerable in Christian institutions. The following questions that provide better clarification are, what is a Help[H]er®? What does she do? And, how does she do it? Consider the answers in this helpful narrative written by our Help[H]er board member and Designer, Web Administrator, Helen Weigt.

What is a Help[H]er^®?
Imagine a trusted ally stepping into the stormy seas of crisis, not to take over the wheel but to stand by your side, guiding you through the waves. That’s what a Help[H]er^® does. She’s the one chosen by vulnerable care recipients—handpicked to represent their interests, protect them from further harm, and bring clarity in the midst of confusion.

A Help[H]er^® is more than just a voice of reason. She’s a fact-finder, digging deep into the details to help care recipient’s determine what’s best for them in their unique situations. When a Christian organization or ecclesiastical court is involved, the Help[H]er^® advises these bodies, ensuring that the needs and well-being of the care recipient are front and center in every decision.

But remember— Help[H]ers^® don’t make the final call. Instead, they empower care recipient’s by educating and advising them on the safest and wisest options. The power remains firmly in the hands of the one who needs it most: the care recipient.

What a Help[H]er^® Is (And Is Not)
A Help[H]er is not a trained investigator. She won’t dig through evidence like a detective. Her role is more of a guide, providing insight and wisdom, rooted in both biblical truths and practical realities, to help a care recipient make informed choices.

Help[H]ers^® stand solely for the care recipient. Though they may collaborate with compassionate representatives within institutions, their loyalty is always to the care recipient. Their mission is clear: to amplify the voice of the wounded, ensuring that it’s heard above the noise.

Help[H]ers^® are often those with a background in biblical counseling or licensed therapeutic practice, but their role is not to offer therapy. Instead, they equip care recipients with information, helping them navigate their choices with confidence and clarity.

The qualifications of a Help[H]er^® go beyond just credentials—they embody a deep empathy and understanding forged through years of walking alongside those who have been hurt. Here’s what sets a Help[H]er^® apart:

• Experience: A wealth of experience working directly with women in crisis.
• Counseling Expertise: Training that may include biblical counseling or licensure, and specific advocacy skills.
• Advocacy Know-How: Familiarity with denominational constitutions and church structures.
• Communication Excellence: Skill in the art of listening—not just to words but to the heart behind them. Help[H]ers^® are bilingual in the language of heaven and humanity.
• Integrity & Trust: They understand the profound impact of their words, treating the reputation of the care recipient with the utmost care. They earn trust by being faithful stewards of the stories they’ve been given.

The Heart of a Help[H]er^®
At the end of the day, a Help[H]er^® is a bridge—a connection between the care recipient’s voice and the ears that need to hear it. Their work is sacred, requiring them to handle the delicate trust placed on them with grace and truth. They encourage care recipients to trust that their voices will be represented well, ensuring that justice and healing are pursued with the utmost respect.

Help[H]ers^® remind care recipient’s that they are not alone. They are seen, heard, and held by the Good Shepherd, and Help[H]ers^® are privileged to walk alongside them on their journey.

There’s a thread that runs throughout those characteristics. Yep, you got it. We’re circling back to listening. Listening is not just a single strand of fiber, however. It’s a carefully woven cord made up of multiple strands that consist of voice, empathy, trust, seeing, and hearing. And applying it as a Help[H]er^® is an art form. For example,

The primary voice a Help[H]er^® is listening for is God’s. It is, of course, the voice that called us into being, that calls us into His family, that calls us to take care of that family. We know truth because we know what He’s said. We know lies because we know truth. So, we cultivate a posture of listening for that heavenly sound, the tone and pitch of the voice of a King who is intimately more concerned for those to whom we provide care than even we are.

But the second voice a Help[H]er^® seeks out is that of the care recipient. Loving God with all our hearts, souls, and minds is quickly followed in Scripture with loving our neighbors. So, our ears are in tune with what they say. Our ears are in tune for what they don’t say. Our ears are tuned in to be aware, conscious, cognizant, familiar with, acquainted with, informed, apprised, enlightened, knowledgeable, and sensible to all the care recipient is saying or not saying.

The same can be said about listening to the voices of the audience to whom we amplify the care recipient’s voice. Do they hear? Do they then speak truth? Does the Help[H]er^® discern any lies? What precisely is this audience saying? What are they NOT saying? What do their actions reveal about what they said or didn’t say? Do they align? What is God’s heart for these persons? When the Help[H]er^® “tunes in,” what do they hear? What are they now more aware of? Conscious of? Have they heard before? Is what has been said something that will help inform the care recipient as they begin to make their choices? Will it enlighten them more to their situation? Does it help make sense of their circumstances? The only way to know is if the Help[H]er^® circles back to her Father.

So she prays.

With her eyes locked on her Master, the Help[H]er^® seeks His perspective and “tries to discern what is pleasing to the Lord.” What would He have her do with the information she has gleaned in her listening? How does she share it with compassion? What does compassion look like in the face of evil, or evil persons? Is compassion for them any different?

So she wrestles.

The work of the Help[H]er^® is a labor. Much like bringing forth a physical life, bringing forth health and life in an advocating situation has a good deal of pain. Both for the woman in crises and her Help[H]er^®. No part of advocacy is easy.

When I advocate, I’m quick to make judgments. My “ears” have been trained to hear, so I know what to listen for. That’s not to say God can’t step in and change the flow of the situation at any time though. In fact, I’m constantly praying He will! This occupation isn’t rewarding if the poor responses to women by their leader’s persists. It helps to be able to persevere in this profession when a case ends well. I don’t hope for unhappy endings.

I’ll be back at the audiologist office next week; I’ll ask her to turn up the volume some more so I can hear even better. What have you learned about the art of listening? Did you discover you are somewhat tone deaf, unknowingly filtering out sounds you may need to hear? Perhaps it’s time to engage with a “hearing aid,” a Help[H]er^®.

As any hearing specialist will testify, amplifying the sounds you’ve been missing prevents further damage.

More to come…

[1] Langberg, In Our Lives First, 13.