Tag: voice

Posted in AI, Life

Would you rather talk to a person or a machine?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash

That’s a really interesting question. Some days I would rather hear the voice of a living, breathing person. Other times, I would rather log on to a website to take care of business. Why one rather than the other? Ironically, when I want to speak to a human, it’s hard to get someone on the line. But in those moments when I just want to get in and out digitally, I have to go through a human.

The phone tree begins with a choice of English or Spanish. Once that is settled, I can choose the extension of the person to whom I wish to speak, which I never know. Then I must listen to all the recently changed menu options, often eight or nine items long. Only after none of those choices suits me can I stay on the line to talk to a real, living, breathing man or woman. How long will that wait be? That is the question. And I am already several minutes into the call. Thank goodness for the speaker on my phone so I can do something else while I wait.

Too often, the reason I am waiting to speak to someone is that I can’t find a way to cancel something on the website of a product trial I signed up for. It’s easy to try out a new product, subscribe to a publication, or install a new app on your phone for free. But after a week or two, you start paying for it, unless you have the presence of mind to cancel before the trial runs out. Lol, like that ever happens.

But many vendors conveniently fail to include a “cancel my subscription” to their menus. To cancel, you have to talk to a person. That means you have to negotiate the phone tree to finally talk to a person whose sole job is to get you to stay longer and pay more.

How much time have I wasted texting back and forth, when all I needed to do was make a simple phone call? Plenty. How many times have I been thankful I could send a text message or an email when I can’t get someone on the phone? Lots. Human or machine? It depends.

I’ve had to call people I really didn’t want to talk to. As the phone rang, I mentally hoped a machine would pick up. Then I could leave a message and get out.

And then there are those who I really need to talk to who never answer. Phone wasn’t on? Dead battery? Didn’t want to talk to me? Who knows? I’ve actually written a note and mailed it to someone I was trying to get in touch with. Maybe they will give me a call.

If I ask Siri to take me to a certain address, she never asks, “Why do you want to go there?” If I order my pizza through an app, no one questions me when I add extra cheese. It’s just so much easier.

Soon I won’t be able to tell if I am talking with a real person or a machine. That’s scary.

Posted in Life

Real conversation, real relationships

Posted on by William Douthwaite

In Lisa Unger’s mystery novel Under My Skin, the protagonist Poppy glances at her phone and reflects on what has happened to her relationships because of texting. “Relationships scrolling out in bubbles, text disembodied from voice and body, language pared down to barest meaning” is “far less meaningful than actual conversation.”

Even though these words are fictional, they ring true. They resonate. We have replaced real conversation and real relationships with a poor digital imitation. They are like products with artificial flavoring or colorized movies or cheap laminated furniture materials.

In the Star Trek series and movies, the replicator made it possible to enjoy any food or drink you wanted from any planet or culture or era. But space travelers treasured real ale from some alien race or a real apple from planet earth. There was nothing like the real thing.

No one says, “I wanted to see your words.” We say, “I just wanted to hear your voice.” We save and replay voice messages again and again.

Bubble relationships are convenient, but two-dimensional. The words have no actual feelings though we try to extract emotion from them. Text messages may be adorned with emoji, but they lack the hint of a smile, shifting of an eye, the furrow of a brow, or a subtle chuckle. Most texting is quick and efficient, with little thought to grammar, vocabulary, or spelling. (Unless it is a lengthy text, and who reads all the way through those?)

In an actual conversation, eyes tear up. Legs nervously bounce. Fingernails have been chewed. Breath smells like alcohol. Some words come quickly. Other sentences are punctuated with long pauses. Lips purse. Fingers drum on the table. Hands fold.

What has happened to our relationships?

Posted in advent, Advent devotions, Devotions

2020 Advent devotion: A low whisper

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Sai De Silva on Unsplash

“Live and in person” Advent devotion for December 10, 2020. Read 1 Kings 19:9-12 and Psalm 29.

What does the voice of God sound like? Most people probably imagine it to be loud, deep and with a British accent. In Psalm 29 David describes it as powerful enough to break trees and shake the ground beneath your feet. Jesus cried out in a loud voice at Lazarus’ tomb or when He gave up His spirit in death. In Revelation His voice is like the roar of many waters, as if your were standing on the beach before the crashing waves. Or the roar of rapids echoing from canyon walls.

But for Elijah, it wasn’t like that at all. Convinced that he’s the last believer left on earth, Elijah ascends a mountain where the Lord Himself passes by. Though the moment is marked by gale force winds, a ground-splitting earthquake and scorching flames, it is the sound of a low whisper that draws the prophet to the mouth of a cave where he converses with God.

When you are in a room full of children, the volume of their voices often increases as they try harder and harder to be heard. Sometimes you have to remind them, “You don’t have to yell. I’m right here. You can use your inside voice.”

Some small sounds immediately capture my attention. Water dripping from some faucet. An unusual noise from the car engine. A subdued “Uh-oh” from the other room. A low growl from the dog who heard someone outside the house. Or a far off ambulance siren.

Sometimes God’s voice seems very small, almost unnoticeable among all the noise in our world. Ours is a noisy world full of car horns and barking dogs and ringing phones and crying children and advertisements and weather alerts. The voice of the Savior can be drowned out by all kinds of other folks trying to get your attention.

So sometimes you have to turn all that off, close all the doors, disconnect the distractions and just listen. Listen to what He has to say as you read scripture aloud. Listen as someone else reads the Word to you. Listen as if He were talking to you.

The Savior came into this world as an infant, one small voice that few noticed or listened to. Yet His are the words of eternal life. What a blessing that He still quietly and powerfully speaks to us through His Word!

Thank you, Lord, for using Your inside voice to speak Words of comfort, reassurance and life to me. Amen.

Posted in children, grandfather

I was just reading to you

Posted on by William Douthwaite

YertleA few months ago, I had the privilege of holding my newest grandchild, Daniel, just hours after his birth. He was swaddled snugly in a dinosaur-covered blanket, sporting a matching cap. I quickly accepted the offer to hold him and said the first thing that came to my mind. “I was reading a story to you yesterday, remember?”

Less than twenty-four hours before, I had sat down to read one of my favorite Dr. Seuss books to Daniel’s big brother, Elijah. Elijah soon lost interest and galloped away to do something else. But his mom, exactly 40 weeks pregnant with little brother was also sitting on the sofa, slowly rubbing her belly. So I kept on reading Yertle the Turtle, delighting as the precarious tower of turtles collapsed, leaving Yertle with a kingdom of nothing more than the mud into which he fell.

As I chatted with Daniel, I paused to marvel at all the voices I the world that he would recognize. His mom and dad, of course. His big brother, grandparents, and a few aunts and uncles. On more than one occasion, I would stoop down and “talk to the tummy.” Those on the outside would roll their eyes as I asked, “What’s your name?” “When’s your birthday?” and “Whatcha doin’ in there?” I like to believe Daniel merely thought, “Don’t worry, Apa, I’ll let you know soon!”

I like having conversations with little people. Even before they can respond with words, I can tell they are listening very carefully. Sometimes they’ll respond by looking deeply into your eyes. Or they’ll twist their mouth into interesting little shapes. They squint when you blow in their face and say, “It’s windy day!” And sometimes they look excited as you move their legs to make them run as fast as they can or move their arms to make them dance.

I love to read stories to kids, especially my grandchildren. I like to think I’m pretty good at it, too. In fact, I like to believe that story got the show on the road. A few hours after “the end” the contractions began. I think my young audience wanted to see the pictures that went along with the story!

Posted in Grace, Ministry

Looking for my voice

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Looking for my voice. Today I barely croaked out the second sermon as the laryngitis I knew was coming mercilessly set in. As early as Friday I knew it would be a tough morning. I could feel a little soreness in my throat and I just had a feeling that Sunday morning would be a challenge. Saturday morning didn’t start out too badly, but as the day wore one my voice was strained and even though I drank gallons (at least it seemed like that much) of water, I knew Sunday would be a struggle. Sure enough, I woke up with a sandpapery voice that got a little better after a hot shower. I didn’t sing any songs and really took it easy the first service, but I wasn’t at 100%. Fortunately, this is the service we record and post online. Bible class wasn’t too bad, but at the beginning of our second worship service, I knew it would be tough. I did get through the second sermon, but had to ask one of my elders to finish up the end of the service for me.

About 18 years ago, I was singing with a choir in another church and developed a really serious case of laryngitis. Ever since that time, a cold or some pine pollen or any throat irritation can set it off. It’s kind of like my Achilles’ heel, which as you might imagine isn’t good for a preacher. It happens about two times a year, and there’s really not much I can do about it. I had a sermon I was really looking forward to preaching, too. And since I don’t write out my whole sermon but kind of put together a storyboard, I couldn’t just pass off to an elder.

To tell you the thuth, I don’t like being vessel of clay (2 Cor 4).  But these kind of days remind me I am, and that God just might be able to communicate through a guy who can only croak out a sermon.