How do we discern a decision? 3: Identify the occasion and method.
Through parts one and two, we set up our discernment process with some crucial groundwork. Namely, we clearly identify what we’re discerning between, and we align ourselves to the basis or foundation of our discernment by taking on a disposition that keeps the main thing, the main thing and becomes indifferent to everything else.
When we’re in this state of “indifference” or, better, equal-willingness, we become like a still boat on the water—able to discern movements of the wind and water from its own motion because it is itself completely at rest. Coming to this point isn’t easy, but once we do, St Ignatius of Loyola suggests we’ll have one of three basic experiences on that metaphorical sea. We tend to call these the three “occasions” or times for discernment. Which experience we have will then let us know what method to use.
Three times to make a good discernment.
1. When it’s clear beyond doubting.
On some rare occasion, we might find ourselves faced with a decision and the answer already emblazoned on our mind. Perhaps we get a job offer and we experience something go off in our heart or our brain that screams, “Yes!” and it feels like something has just clicked into place. We’d be willing to turn it down if God asked us to, and we want to make a good discernment—but if we go to discern it and test it, we might find it almost impossible—as though that “Yes!” won’t let up. It’s as though a massive wave carries us to our destination without our captaining.
That Ignatius offers this as the first occasion of discernment isn’t because it happens most commonly, however. It’s very uncommon, and there’s a danger in misidentifying it—which is why it’s so crucial to ensure we don’t (unconsciously) have our thumb on the scale. Sometimes that “Yes!” is a screaming desire in us that might simply love the recognition or the status or the salary in the job offer—or perhaps is closed off to the alternative or what we think it could mean.
To underline the point, Ignatius gives the example of St Paul struck from his horse (and struck blind) by a vision of Jesus, resulting in a choice to follow him. How could Paul have doubted this choice with a vision so clear and accompanied by the miraculous blinding and restoration of his sight? Is our certainty ever so certain as this? Sometimes but rarely so.
2. When I feel pushed and pulled.
Far more often, there’s even a slight degree of uncertainty. We might be as ready to answer God “Yes” to this as to that, but the problem is being sure which God is actually inviting us to. Instead of being moved wholly and unequivocally toward a single answer, we might find ourselves moved first strongly to one option, then, “on the other hand . . .” we find ourselves considering the other—or simultaneously feeling one part ourselves attracted to A and another to B.
On the face of it, this can be a discouraging or frustrating, like we’re a boat batted around by the waves, just trying to get our bearings; however, the fact that we’re feeling “moved” one way and another is actually good news for us. These crosswinds, which can easily bring confusion in this push-and-pull, are actually what we can use to propel our discernment, by catching the right wind in our sails.
3. When I don’t feel drawn either way.
A third experience is when we don’t feel moved in any particular direction. In this occasion, either seems good to us, and if God were to ask either of us, we’d gladly say, “Yes!” It may be because we just don’t feel anything with regard to either outcome (say, between moving to this neighborhood or that), or it may be because we feel totally open and generous and willing to joyfully render both options as gifts to Jesus (say, between agreeing to lead a youth group or agreeing to lead an addiction recovery ministry).
If the picture in No. 1 is a tidal waves and No. 2 was trying to sail in the crosswinds, the picture of No. 3 is trying to sail in a completely placid sea with no wind at all. Fortunately, there’s a method for this too.
Three ways to discern.
1. Testing what’s clear.
When, in Ignatius’ words, our will so clearly and compellingly drawn by God that we find ourselves entirely unable to doubt it, that’s the path we follow. However, just as Ignatius sets a very high bar in his example of St Paul and his vision of Jesus, we ought to be certain our certainty is truly from God.
To do that, the best counsel is to assume this isn’t what we’re experiencing. Instead, we can go on method No. 2. Since the presupposition is that we’re unable to doubt the direction, put that to the test—err on the side of caution, and doubt it. If this certainty is truly direction from God, subjecting it to further discernment will either confirm it or else prove itself completely unable to apply because the clarity won’t go away.
Additionally, it’s wise to spend some time going back to your foundation and checking in with yourself (and with trusted people in your life) how aligned your desires are to it. Consider asking yourself reflectively and prayerfully:
How does what I’m feeling moved to align with what I’m being created for and who I’m being created to be?
Can I imagine God asking or inviting me to the opposite choice? How would this sit for me?
What would I not want to hear God ask of me?
2. Discerning movements.
Just as we’re looking to discern between two choices, St Ignatius suggests that for all the swirling forces we might experience pushing and pulling us, we’re ultimately discerning (sifting and sorting) between two fundamental movements. We can just call these the True Spirit and the False Spirit, without having to commit to precise definitions. One moves us toward faith, hope and love—from good to better—the other, away.
The way we experience these movements of the True Spirit and False Spirit can be described in terms of consolation (the increase of faith, hope and love) and desolation (the diminishment of faith, hope and love).
Between these four building blocks, we have essentially all we need to discern which movements are acting on both our reasoning and our affect and what that means for our larger discernment project. At the same time, complexities and nuances abound, making this the most involved and delicate method. For this reason, St Ignatius outlined two sets of guidelines (22 points in total) to help not only a discerner but also their spiritual director to accompany them. We’ll detail these in subsequent posts.
3. Reasoning to a desirable choice.
When, unlike the first two occasions, we experience absolutely no movements to discern and no wind to catch in our sails, we’re not without a paddle. Ignatius makes the discernment process incredibly practical, and we can even supplement his recommended methods with our own.
I can write a pros and cons list. Which emerges to me as the better option? How do I feel about this?
I imagine what counsel I’d give to a friend under the same circumstances as me. How would I speak into the heart of the decision for someone with my same heart and desires, desiring all the good for them?
I imagine the final hours of my life or at some point far in my future, and I pretend to look back and notice how I’ll feel about the decision I’d make now. Which would give the greatest satisfaction? Which would leave me with the least regret about the generosity and freedom I lived with?
I imagine myself before Christ at the end of my life. What decision will I want to be able to tell him about? Which feels like the greater gift to have given Jesus here? Which gives me the most pleasure in this imaginative exercise?
The common method: Committing my decision to God.
Whichever of the three occasions we find ourselves in, they hold several commonalities—specifically at the beginning and the end. In all three, we must start with a relative clarity about our alternatives, a large degree of freedom to choose either one and, above all, a posture of equal-willingness with a view of keeping the main thing the main thing with respect to our life’s purpose in God. At the end of our process, we also want to bring this back to its point in God. And that’s the notion of committing our decision.
Committing our decision to God doesn’t mean that we’ve yet committed it with other people. Instead, this us offering up draft for review—pencils down, time for feedback. In this, it’s crucial that—just as we begin rooting ourselves before a God who loves us—we find ourselves before a God who cares far more for our wellbeing than for the correctness of our decision; even if we make a “bad” discernment, God’s love for us won’t be even a little shaken, and God’s “plans” won’t be so effectively thwarted. This is us simply inviting God to confirm or disconfirm what we’ve tentatively decided.
What does confirmation or disconfirmation look like? Similar to the occasion and method you used, it may be screamingly clear, a subtle movement or a simple sense of completeness—it can also be a big external sign or a word of confirmation from someone else’s prayer, but often confirmation may simply be the absence of anything disconfirming. This final stage is God’s opportunity to make any error in our good-faith discernment plain to us; if God doesn’t, we typically have what we need to move boldly forward in good faith and trust.
By the time we’ve committed to our decision, committing our decision to God means last of all that—without assurance of “right” or “wrong”—we’re placing it into God’s care, to receive it as a loving gift from us and to make good of it regardless. Whatever method we use, this will always be true.