Learning Discernment, One Conversation at a Time

Have you ever felt that something’s oddly familiar? Like you’ve dipped your toes into it before — same taste, same rhythm — just different faces wearing the same tactics?

I’ve been sitting with this, wondering how to write it down. It’s a heavy, complex thing for me. In fact, it feels like it has surrounded me since birth (if you know what I mean), and sometimes even shows up in work, in churches, and even in Christian organizations outside the local church. A cycle. A pattern. A repeated encounter.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize how much words expose the heart (Matthew 12:34) .

• How we string words into sentences.

• How we lead conversations to our advantage.

• How we repeat sentences to sound wiser than we really are, or to cover what we’d rather not reveal. 

• How we pause deliberately, setting someone up for a response.

• How we bombard others with words until they’re cornered.

• How we carefully choose words to mask intentions.

• How inconsistencies in “facts” eventually betray the truth.

I’ve always been quick to notice these things, maybe because I was “trained” in them from the very start. wink But I’m learning that discernment is not just natural sensitivity — it’s a spiritual gift. It requires leaning on the Spirit, not my flesh, to separate truth from half-truths, integrity from performance.

And here’s what I’ve learned: lying and manipulation are cousins — both compromise integrity.

• Lying abandons truth.

• Manipulation twists truth.

• But integrity embodies truth (Proverbs 10:9).

This isn’t about comparisons of who’s better, smarter, or greater. These tactics — whether in conversation, in theology, or even in ministry — reflect what’s really inside. They show how we perceive ourselves, and ultimately, how we perceive Jesus. Just as many of us unconsciously project our view of God through the lens of our earthly parents (Psalm 27:10).

I grew up in an environment where apologies rarely came. Instead of hearing “I’m sorry,” I was met with defenses. Arguments weren’t for resolution but for proving superiority — to have the last word, the “final hoorah.” Over time, I stopped waiting for apologies and braced myself instead for excuses and justifications — usually ones that turned the blame back on me.

But here’s the thing: when you encounter people like this — manipulators, deflectors, performers — their actions reflect them, not you.

And this is why self-reflection matters so much. Discernment isn’t only for looking outward; it’s also for looking inward. Just like Isaiah, when he saw the Lord high and lifted up (Isaiah 6:1–5), he didn’t first point to others. He became aware of his own unclean lips. That moment of holy awareness drew out confession, and God responded with cleansing. It’s a pattern we can learn from: first comes self-awareness, self-awareness leads to acknowledgement, and acknowledgement opens the way for God’s response. 

The same is true for us: we can’t discern rightly if we’re blind to our own hearts. The Spirit calls us first to pause, reflect, and ask:

• Am I speaking from the Spirit or from the flesh? 

• Am I seeking truth, or just trying to control the narrative? 

• Am I walking in integrity, or hiding behind performance? 

• And when I look deeper — who am I really trying to impress? What drives me to perform? What insecurity am I still masking?

These questions aren’t for self-condemnation but for self-awareness. And self-awareness leads us to acknowledgement before God. Acknowledgement then opens the door for His response — His cleansing, His truth, His peace. 

Because at the end of the day, discernment begins with humility — letting God search us first, before we try to “read” anyone else. And it’s in self-reflection, under His holiness, that true discernment is born.