I’ve been thinking about the word discern for years.
It began when I attended a church whose pastor used the word constantly — so much so that I cringed every time he said it.
“We’re discerning the right next steps.”
“We need to discern how we’re being led.”
“Let’s stay in discernment.”
It struck me after a while:
Was “discernment” just a sophisticated way to avoid making a decision?
Sometimes, I think it was.
The Gift of Discernment
Discernment, in its best form, is a beautiful and necessary thing.
It means slowing down long enough to:
- Look past surface impressions
- Pause before reacting
- Consider possibilities before committing
- Choose deliberately rather than impulsively
Discernment is clarity.
It is perspective.
It is the sober breath in a reactive world.
We could all use more of that.
The Curse of Discernment
But discernment isn’t always noble.
Like many virtues, it carries a shadow side.
A pause can easily become a stall.
Thoughtful assessment can decay into looping hesitation.
Wisdom can morph into fear, wearing a wise person’s clothing.
When we tell ourselves:
- I need more clarity
- I’m waiting for a sign
- I’m not quite ready
- I need to think it through again
Sometimes that’s true.
Other times, it’s procrastination disguised as maturity.
Discernment becomes paralysis.
I suspect we lose more opportunities to silence than to bad decisions.
A Moment When Discernment Turned Into Action
I learned this lesson vividly in pharmacy school.
My parents wanted me to live at home, commute to class, and remain, as they put it, “under their guidance.” They said they were discerning what was best for me. In hindsight, I believe they were also working hard to keep me close, perhaps within the sphere they could still control.
I spent weeks discerning it too.
Was independence worth conflict?
Could I handle life on my own?
Was I genuinely ready to grow up — or just itching for freedom?
There’s a line where reflection becomes looping, and I felt myself circling the same questions. One day, I realized that no amount of discernment would hand me certainty. Only choosing could do that.
So I chose.
I moved into the Kappa Psi fraternity house.
No mother monitoring my schedule.
No built-in safety net waiting every evening.
No one is enforcing a curfew or questioning my decisions.
And it changed everything.
Living in that house taught me how to budget, how to navigate conflict, how to clean a bathroom no one else wanted to claim, how to cook (or at least how to survive on what others cooked!), and how to recover from mistakes. It was where I learned adulthood — not from lectures, but from lived experience.
Looking back, I don’t remember the fear nearly as clearly as what came after: the sense that I had stepped into myself. Had I stayed home, “waiting for the right moment,” I might still be waiting.
Discernment mattered.
But the decision made me grow.
Where Discernment Ends, and Courage Begins
There is a thin but crucial line between seeing clearly.
and refusing to act until certainty arrives.
Discernment is meant to inform action —
not replace it.
When we over-discern:
- Opportunities fade
- Relationships drift
- Clarity becomes murky
- Fear grows larger than wisdom
- Possibility passes quietly by
Good judgment doesn’t eliminate risk — it simply gives us a compass.
At some point, discernment stops whispering.
And courage takes the microphone.
One Question Worth Carrying
Where in my life am I still “discerning”
When should I be deciding?
Ask it gently.
Answer honestly.
Then take a step.
Wisdom reveals the path.
Courage is what walks it.
