The other day I listened to about 20 minutes of Billy Joel.
It’s more Billy Joel than I’d like to listen to. Don’t get me wrong, I can jam to We Didn’t Start the Fire and it’s hard to beat She’s Got a Way as a love song. But Summer, Highland Falls is a song that makes fingernails down a chalkboard seem like a welcome relief.
It was that song that finally jolted me out of my stupor. Spotify’s newer feature, an AI DJ, decided that I wanted a set of Billy Joel songs. Not a horrible suggestion—but not really a good one. I can maybe name 300 other artists I’d rather listen to than Billy Joel. And yet, here I was enduring not only Billy Joel but the absolute worst song he has ever sang.
How does this happen?
It’s because Spotify, for some unknown reason, has decided it will only add a “I don’t like this song” button to its Discover Weekly. And even then, it’s really only deleting the song off your playlist for that week.
This has led to some rather irritating moments in my relationship with Spotify. They still think that King, by The Bundy’s, is one of my favorite songs. I’ve requested it zero times. Every single time it played it was because of a recommendation from Spotify. I don’t like the song, but it kept playing on my radio. And the more times it played, the more Spotify became convinced that this song is my jam.
How Does This Relate to Biblical Counseling?
Now, why am I telling you about my eternal battle with Spotify? Because I think it can teach us something about pastoral counseling—or really any kind of discipleship relationship with other people.
The central problem with Spotify is that they do not have a feedback loop. There is no way for me to communicate with them that I absolutely do not like Summer, Highland Falls. They think they know me, but without having the ability to tell them when they get it wrong—it’ll never be as accurate as it could be.
The same can be true if we aren’t good listeners when it comes to engaging the inner world of another. Without a feedback loop we can confidently lock a person into a perceived position and throw away their keys.
Entry Gates and Feedback Loops
I get why Spotify might think I like some of the songs that I do. I’m pretty eclectic in my musical tastes. If I’m having a kick where I’m listening to quite a few songs from the 80’s or soft rock, then an assumption that I might want some Billy Joel isn’t far off base.
Let’s consider a friend who lost his job. Just like with Spotify, your “algorithm” will bring to mind a host of suggestions. He’s probably worried about finances. Maybe I could point him in the direction of the local food bank. Or perhaps let him borrow some Dave Ramsey material. That’ll help…
Other things might come to mind. How will he tell his wife? Will this impact his relationship with in-laws? What will his kids think? Will they worry?
Given these assumptions you chart your course for “counsel”. You make your suggestions and talk about some of these various themes to provide help. This is your way of saying, “I think you really want to listen to Billy Joel…”
True, you’re probably somewhere in the ballpark in understanding what this person is struggling with. You’ve maybe been at this long enough that you can see patterns and where dots are connecting. But what if you’re off base? Do you have a feedback loop? Have you created your own entry gate into this person’s inner world?
Paul Tripp, in his book, Instruments in the Redeemers Hands, talks about entry gates. These are avenues where we can enter into another person’s world. Tripp notes that the problem, the situation, or even another person is not an entry gate. But rather, “An entry gate is a particular person’s experience of the situation, problem or relationship.” He then informs how to recognize an entry gate:
To recognize an entry gate you do not ask, ‘What are the problems in a person’s life?’ Instead you ask, ‘What is this person struggling with in the midst of the situation? Or, ‘What has this person in its grip right now?’ The entry gate is not what you think the person is struggling with; it is the struggle the person confesses. People will tell you how they are struggling, and their struggle will give you common ground with them and a door of opportunity into a deeper level of ministry. (Tripp, Instruments in the Redeemers Hands, 127)
As you listen for how your friend is dealing with this job loss, you’ll pick up on emotional words he is using. Is he angry with a boss? How is he interpreting this situation? What is he saying about himself? Is he saying he’s a failure? What’s he saying about God in all of this? Is he even mentioning God?
You’ll listen for some of these and start to pull on the threads. “Would you like to listen to Billy Joel today…?”
If you’re a Spotify-type of counselor you’ll lock them into this theme. No, I think you really do want to listen to The Piano Man. Here are 5 songs…Or, rather here are 5 tips for breaking this news to your wife. And you’ll have no off-ramp.
Conclusion
Can I tell you how frustrated I am with Spotify when it does this? I know its silly but I feel unheard. I feel a little trapped. My AI DJ isn’t listening to me and I’ve given up hope of trying to “train” him into dropping songs like The Bundy’s off my playlist. I’m just stuck in this cycle until Mr. DJ gets something else in his mind that he’d like to chase with me.
How much worse is this when we do this to someone who has come to us for help? How horrible does it feel when you get to that moment to open your heart up to another person and they don’t actually listen?
That’s why we would do well to ask good “entry gate” questions. (Tripp has a great list of these in his book). Ask questions to find that entry gate. And when you think you’ve found one see if you have the right ticket to enter. Have a feedback loop. Am I right that this is a thread we should pull on?
Our primary goal isn’t to make sure we are heard. It’s to make sure they are heard.
I hold out few hopes that Spotify will get this. Perhaps believers can do this better…
