Discernment: Reading the Signs of Daily Life

by Henri J.M. Nouwen

Père Thomas had a theological understanding of the trusting heart—that all human expressions of love which come to us in life, though limited and imperfect, are in fact manifestations of the unlimited and perfect love of God. “Somehow,” he said, “even as small children, we are in touch with a love greater, deeper, and stronger than our parents or teachers can offer us.” As a theologian, he considered all human relationships to be “signs which point to the inner life of God.” Our three primary sets of relationships are usually with the parents who raised us, close friends whom we consider peers, and immediate family with whom we live (spouse or community). These primary relationships reflect our relationship (or lack of a felt relationship) with God as Father/Creator, Son/Redeemer, and Spirit/Sustainer. These relationships, for better or worse, can lead us to a more intimate communion with the triune God. At first, this might sound idealistic. But once we are willing to see human persons as living signs and all of life as the continuing manifestation of God’s love, we can begin to see through the relationships in our life as gifts of God that help mold and shape us, reminding us of the inner quality of God’s own love. Even if our mother or father or brother or sister or spouse or friend couldn’t love us in every way we might have liked, Père Thomas began to show me that each one did reflect an aspect of God’s love, and when taken together they reflected the fullness of God ...

The power of friendship is great if it doesn’t find all its meaning in itself. If people expect too much from each other, they can do each other harm; disappointment and bitterness can overpower love and even replace it. But in the practice of discernment in daily life, we can learn to appreciate our closest friends, family members, and sometimes complete strangers, as signposts pointing toward God. Friends may be guides who see what we may not be able to see ourselves.

I also learned afresh that friendship requires a constant willingness to forgive each other for not being Christ, and a willingness to ask Christ himself to be the true center of the relationship. When Christ does not mediate a friendship, that relationship easily becomes demanding, manipulating, and oppressive, and fails to offer the other the space to grow. True friendship requires closeness, affection, support, and mutual encouragement, but also distance, space to grow, freedom to be different, and solitude. To nurture both aspects of a relationship, we must experience a deeper and more lasting affirmation than any human relationship can offer. As I struggled to understand my need for close friendships, I came to understand why Jesus sent out his disciples into the world in groups of two. Together, they could maintain the spirit of peace and love and the affirmation they found in his company, and they could share these gifts with everyone they met.

The Bible can be a good guide for our interpretation of events as we look to discern what God is doing and remember that God’s design and final purpose is that God will ultimately reign and God’s ways of love will prevail. God’s ways are not always our ways. God’s timetable is not always our timetable. Discernment calls us to settle into God’s ways of measuring time. Clock time (chronos) is divided into minutes, hours, days, and weeks, and its compartments dominate our lives. In chronological time, what happens to us is a series of disconnected incidents and accidents that we seek to manage or subdue to feel in control of our lives. Time becomes a burden unless we convert it into God’s time. God’s time (kairos) has to do with opportunity and fullness of meaning, moments that are ripe for their intended purpose. When we see time in light of our faith in the God of history, we see that the events of this year are not just a series of happy or unhappy events but part of the shaping hands of God, who wants to mold our world and our lives. Even when life seems harried and continues to have hard moments, we can believe that something good is happening amid all of this. We get glimpses of how God might be working out his purposes in our days. Time becomes not just something to get through or manipulate or manage, but the arena of God’s good work in us. Whatever happens—good things or bad, pleasant or problematic—we ask, “What might God be doing here?” We see the events of the day...

Kairos means that the opportunity is right. It is the right time, the real moment, the critical event, the chance of our lives. When our time becomes kairos, it opens up endless new possibilities and offers us a constant opportunity for a change of heart. The events of life—even such dark events as war, famine and flood, violence and murder—are not irreversible fatalities but rather carry within themselves the possibility of becoming a moment of change. To start seeing that the many events of our day, week, or year are not in the way of our search for a full life but rather the way to it is a real experience of conversion.

All is grace. Light and water, shelter and food, work and free time, children, parents, and grandparents, birth and death—it is all given to us. Our very first vocation is to receive these gifts and say thanks.

you must have the gifts and grace to fulfill a task for it to be a vocational call from God.

What I learned from testing a call in Latin America is that my broader vocation is simply to enjoy God’s presence, do God’s will, and be grateful wherever I am. The question of where to live and what to do is really insignificant compared to the question of how to keep the eyes of my heart focused on the Lord. I can be teaching at Yale, working in the bakery at the Genesee Abbey, walking with poor children in Peru, or writing a book, and still feel totally useless. Or I can do these same things and know that I am fulfilling my call. There is no such thing as the right place or the right job. I can be miserable or joyful, restless or at peace, in all situations. It is a simple truth that came to me in a time when I had to decide about my future. Living in Lima or not for five, ten, or twenty years was no great decision. Turning to the Lord fully, unconditionally, and without fear is. He reminds me that I have no lasting dwelling on this earth, that I am a traveler on the way to a sacred place where God holds me in the palm of his hand. This deeper awareness sets me free to be a pilgrim, to pray without ceasing, and to be grateful.