How do we discern a decision? 1: Know what you’re choosing between.
It wasn’t until I stepped down from pastoring to discern a move to Ohio that I realized what never fully occurred to me in over a decade of practicing the Christian faith: I’d no idea how to actually discern.
I approached this massive decision the same way I’d “discerned” everything else up to that point, only to realize how disorderly and haphazard it was. I tried to pray—but found I only knew to ask for wisdom that wasn’t coming. I tried to listen—but found I couldn’t hear anything. I tried to think forward and reason through the possible paths—but found myself lost in a swirl of overwhelm. And half a year later, I was worse off for the problems I thought I was escaping from and no closer to any sense of what God was calling me to.
What is discernment?
Before we can begin to discern methodically, we have to know what we’re really discerning. That is, we have to know what we’re discerning between. The word “discern” comes from the Latin discernere, the literal meaning of which is “to separate apart” but the image of which is sifting or even threshing, such as separating wheat from chaff.
In a broad sense, then, we can talk about discerning truth (from falsehood), discerning a person’s character (trustworthiness from untrustworthiness) or even discerning spirits (1 Cor. 12:10). This is in fact the term St Ignatius uses in his methods of discernment given to people wanting to make a Holy Spirit-led choice. We’re sifting choices to separate out one among the others.
So it’s not that we’re discerning an answer to an open question, like, “What is God calling me to?” We can ask it prayerfully, and we may even find an answer. But in terms of making a decision, we’re discerning between answers—typically two and ideally not more than three, for the simple reason that it can become exponentially more complex. When we don’t have those concrete terms of discernment in front of us, that’s when it can spiral into a decision between, for example, staying and moving . . or maybe staying but changing jobs . . . or going back to school . . . maybe moving plus going back to school, or what about moving out of the States . . . ad nauseum.
In a word, we have to be clear and concrete: What are the precise choices I’m choosing between?
What can we discern?
What kind of choices are we choosing between? In discernment, our options should always have certain characteristics:
They must be real and practical.
They must be good.
They must be something we are (or can be) free in.
1. They must be real and practical.
Real and practical options for discernment will typically sound like, “I could do x” or “I could do y.” I’m not discerning between becoming a best-selling author and moving to Alaska, although I might discern whether to devote time away from something else to work on a novel, and I might discern whether to move to Juno to take a certain job offer. The more abstract and theoretical our terms of discernment are, the less helpful we’ll typically find discernment.
We can certainly start with ideas, but as we’ll see, the more concrete we can narrow down the terms of our discernment into practical, possible futures, the more helpful we may find the various discernment exercises. For example, I can try to discern between entering ministry or remaining in a traditional career—but there’s more to the choice than this. What are the true alternatives I’m envisioning? Maybe it’s specifically becoming a hospital chaplain and continuing as an engineer. But there’s still more: To do that, I’d be deciding to enroll at my denominational seminary and still have to help support my family, so my choice right now might really be between going to school part-time or maybe volunteering at a hospice.
Typically, we look to begin discernment because we’re immediately faced with something. What we’re immediately faced with is generally what we want to discern, taking in the whole picture but not getting lost in it. For example, I could try to discern whether I’m called to a married life or a single life—but the more immediate question may be whether to get married to this person or not. Realistically, I’m not able to discern whether I should marry the person I’m with or someone I haven’t met yet—but I can discern whether or not to marry the person I’m in a position to marry.
“Can I write down, in clear and concise bullet points, the two or three options I’m considering?”
2. They must be good.
Discernment is never really between a good and a bad thing. What’s “bad” might not always appear to us clearly as such from the start, but once it does, the question of discernment is easily answered. God never wills us to do evil. “Should I continue a relationship with this married person?” is never a question for discernment. And once we find that taking a promotion would mean having to turn blind to illicit business practices, that discernment too resolves itself instantly.
What makes discernment hard—and, ultimately, the hard work of discernment—is that it’s generally a choice between two good things. Marrying someone who helps me become more like Jesus is good; remaining unmarried like Jesus is good. Bringing the presence of Christ into a workplace as an engineer is good; answering an invitation to full-time ministry is good. So does our choice really matter?
While in many cases either option may be equally good and pleasing to God and fulfilling of our vocation, we continue to discern between good options because of a concept St Ignatius called the magis: “the greater.” This isn’t maximizing for its own sake. Nor is it about us making sure we get an A+ on our divinely graded exam rather than a paltry A. Rather, it’s a genuine lack of contentment with anything short of what would bring about the greatest glory to God—while still being free enough not to know, to possibly get it wrong, to ultimately make a gift of our decision to God and trusting that God will make the best of it above anything we could do.
“Can I imagine God asking me to say ‘yes’ to each of these options?”
3. They must be something we’re free in.
Finally, we want to be free in making whatever decision. This means nothing is pulling us or compelling us to choose one thing over another, whether that’s a prior commitment or a habit or even a simple preference. Only then are we free to make a decision.
Of course, back to the criterion that our options must be good, if my real obligations to my family are what make me unfree to choose a certain option, the problem is most likely with the option—not with my family responsibilities. I should identify some other option I’m truly free to discern, like volunteering for a missions organization locally rather than leaving my kids to go overseas. On the other hand, I should be aware if something nonessential, like my attachment to a successful career, may prevent me from honestly and searchingly discerning a call to a new vocation.
Making a good discernment requires us to know where we might have our thumb on the scale and to work with God to receive the grace of being able to let go our grip on any outcome or any option we really want. Traditionally, we call this posture “indifference,” but it’s not the indifference of being unconcerned or apathetic. Rather, we can see it as an equilibrium or an equal willingness to say “yes,” with as much energy and enthusiasm, whichever God might ask of us.
“What in my life or within me might prevent me from saying ‘yes’ to any of these options?”
Finding the indifference to begin.
Identifying two or three real, practical and good options for our discernment is easy enough, but arriving at true indifference can be difficult. While all of these aspects are important, this last one is where we can spend most our pre-work. And to be honest, we’re only finding our starting point—equally balanced scales—whereas we may uncover more places where interior freedom is needed later in the process.
In his guidance on discernment, St Ignatius gives us a lofty standard for true indifference, but it’s one we can all attain: that we would not particularly desire material goods over poverty, health over sickness, honor over dishonor. Of course, all things being equal and given the choice, we would choose to be healthy rather than sick, to have food for tomorrow rather than go hungry—and most of the time, this is God’s own desire for us. The only problem is if this inclination can get in the way of our hearing or imaging God invite us into something that might have us go without, that might entail privation or suffering or shame. And if I’m unwilling to hear Jesus invite me into enduring shame, what else might I be covering my ears to?
For this reason, St Ignatius suggests that, if anything, we put our thumb gently on the scale the other way—that is, we try to stoke any desire in us to follow Jesus’ radical path of discipleship rather than what makes us comfortable. If a tree won’t go straight, we stake it in the other direction to help correct its growth. So it is with us, until we find we can more naturally enter into complete "holy indifference,” with equal willingness, equal eagerness, to give a resounding “yes” to any divine invitation.
“Would I be able in this moment to say ‘yes’ with equal enthusiasm to whichever option Christ might invite me into?”
Once we believe we’ve found our footing there and can return to that posture as often as required, we may be ready to begin discerning.