Chapter 4Divine Discernment

When Fear Met Unexpected Laughter

Can God use something as unexpected as laughter to help us through a frightening moment?

In the 1980s, six of us—three married couples—were visiting San Juan, Puerto Rico. I was driving our rental car toward El Morro when a breathtaking view caught my eye: the Atlantic Ocean, the historic Santa María Magdalena de Pazzis Cemetery, and the coastal neighborhood of La Perla beneath the massive walls of Old San Juan.

The scenery captured my attention. Before long, something else did.

Young men were walking toward our car, and their body language felt familiar. Having been recruited into a gang at age ten, I recognized a manner of approaching that put me on alert. I could not know their intentions, but I knew we needed to keep moving.

Everyone else in the car was becoming frightened. The other two men grew restless, and the women pleaded, “Get us out of here! ¡Dios mío!”

My God, indeed.

Yet I remained calm. I remember it as a moment of peace beyond my understanding.

The road was narrow and, as I recall, one-way. I could not simply turn around where we were. I needed to continue to the end, turn, and come back past the same young men.

Then something happened that I still cannot fully explain.

I began to laugh.

Not a polite chuckle. I mean side-splitting, steering-wheel-slapping, eyes-watering laughter.

The young men looked at one another, seemingly unsure what to make of me. Still laughing, I waved and motioned firmly for them to let us pass.

They did.

We reached the end, turned around, and passed them again on our way out.

Thank God Almighty, all six of us emerged safely.

Later, when we described the experience to the concierge at the El San Juan Hotel, he told us we had been very fortunate to come through that adventure safely.

Did God confuse those young men to protect us? I cannot say what was happening in their minds. But I believe He gave me the calm and courage I needed—and, unexpectedly, laughter.

“For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and discipline.”

That verse helps me understand what I experienced: courage to act, love that kept me from treating those young men as enemies, and the discipline to keep moving toward safety.

Looking back, I believe divine intervention and discernment both played a part. My childhood experience helped me recognize a situation that called for attention. My faith helped me remain steady enough to respond.

That does not make every calm feeling divine guidance, nor does it make laughter a strategy for danger. This was one remarkable moment in my life, and I remain grateful for how we came through it.

The lesson I carry is simple:

“Discernment means paying attention. Courage means responding wisely to what we notice.”

That day, I noticed the beauty, then the possible danger. And somewhere between the two, I believe God helped me find our way through.

Prayer is powerful.

So is preference.

And sometimes the two can become dangerously easy to confuse.

We can want something deeply, pray about it sincerely, and still misunderstand what God is doing.

We can feel strongly.

We can feel peaceful.

We can feel afraid.

We can feel certain.

But feelings alone do not make something divine direction.

That is where discernment becomes crucial.

Discernment is not suspicion.

It is not cynicism.

It is not spiritual overthinking.

It is the humble willingness to ask:

Lord, what is true here?

What is from You?

What is from me?

What is fear?

What is desire?

What is wisdom?

What needs to be tested?

What needs to be surrendered?

Prayer seeks God’s heart.

Discernment helps us recognize His direction.

And discernment matters before prayer, during prayer, and after prayer.

Before Prayer

Before we ask God for something, it is worth asking ourselves why we want it.

Motives matter.

That does not mean every mixed motive invalidates a prayer.

Most of us are more complicated than that.

We can want something for good reasons and selfish reasons at the same time.

We can ask for healing because we want relief.

We can ask for provision because we are afraid.

We can ask for success because we want to serve—and because we also want to be noticed.

Discernment before prayer invites us to slow down.

Not to silence desire.

To examine it.

Ask:

Why do I want this?

What am I afraid of losing?

What am I trying to control?

Would I still trust God if the answer looked different from what I hoped?

Am I asking for His will—or asking Him to approve mine?

Discernment begins when we stop assuming that sincerity automatically equals clarity.

During Prayer

Prayer can become so focused on speaking that we forget to listen.

We present the request.

Explain the problem.

Suggest the solution.

Specify the timing.

And say Amen.

But discernment needs room.

Room for silence.

Room for Scripture to correct us.

Room for conviction.

Room for wise counsel.

Room for a different possibility than the one we arrived with.

Listening prayer does not mean every thought that enters our mind came from God.

That is exactly why discernment is necessary.

An impulse can feel urgent.

A fear can sound protective.

A desire can sound spiritual.

A preference can disguise itself as certainty.

Discernment asks us to test what we think we are hearing.

Does it align with Scripture?

Does it reflect the character of Christ?

Does it produce humility or inflate ego?

Does it invite obedience or merely reinforce what I already wanted?

Does it bear the kind of fruit the Spirit produces?

Not Every Open Door Is God’s Door

An opportunity is not automatically an assignment.

A closed door is not automatically rejection.

Ease is not always confirmation.

Difficulty is not always warning.

Sometimes obedience is hard.

Sometimes temptation is easy.

Sometimes waiting is wisdom.

Sometimes action is wisdom.

That is why circumstances alone cannot become our compass.

Discernment requires more than asking:

Did the door open?

It asks:

Where does this door lead?

Who am I becoming if I walk through it?

Does this move me toward truth, love, humility, faithfulness, and obedience?

Or merely toward what is convenient?

An open door is an opportunity.
Discernment asks whether it is an invitation.

After Prayer

Discernment does not end when the prayer ends.

Sometimes it matters most afterward.

The answer may come quickly.

It may come slowly.

It may come differently.

It may seem not to come at all.

And then interpretation begins.

That is where we must be careful.

A delay does not automatically mean no.

A no does not automatically mean punishment.

A yes does not automatically mean approval of every motive.

A detour does not mean abandonment.

And silence does not mean absence.

Discernment after prayer asks:

What am I learning from the outcome?

What am I learning from the delay?

What has changed in me?

What has become clearer?

What has become less important?

What might God be protecting me from?

What might He be preparing me for?

The answer is not always the only thing God is doing.

Test the Fruit

One of the clearest places to test direction is fruit.

Not immediate comfort.

Fruit.

Does the path cultivate love?

Joy?

Peace?

Patience?

Kindness?

Goodness?

Faithfulness?

Gentleness?

Self-control?

A decision can be exciting and still be unwise.

A decision can be difficult and still be deeply faithful.

Discernment asks us to look beyond the emotional temperature of the moment.

What kind of fruit is growing here?

That question can expose a great deal.

Discernment Is Not Fear

Sometimes we call fear discernment.

We say:

“I just don’t have peace.”

But sometimes what we mean is:

“This feels uncomfortable.”

Those are not always the same thing.

Faithfulness can be uncomfortable.

Forgiveness can be uncomfortable.

Truth can be uncomfortable.

Courage can be uncomfortable.

Obedience can be uncomfortable.

Discernment does not exist to make us comfortable.

It exists to help us become faithful.

Likewise, excitement is not confirmation.

Fear is not prohibition.

Peace is not always ease.

And uncertainty is not failure.

Sometimes faithful discernment sounds like:

“I do not know everything yet, but I know enough to take the next wise step.”

When Mercy Interrupted My Words

“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom. And the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.”

In Numbers 22, Balaam was traveling with the leaders of Moab after their king, Balak, had summoned him to curse Israel. God had instructed him to speak only what He commanded.

Along the way, Balaam’s donkey saw an angel of the LORD standing ahead with a drawn sword. Balaam did not see him. Three times, the donkey turned aside or stopped, and three times Balaam struck her.

Then the LORD opened the donkey’s mouth.

The animal spoke to the man.

Finally, the LORD opened Balaam’s eyes, and he saw the danger his donkey had seen all along.

An unexpected voice interrupted him—and brought him face to face with what he had failed to see.

That story brings me back to a day in traffic court, when my own interruption came through an unexpected silence.

Another driver had rear-ended my car. At the accident scene, the officer concluded that the other driver was at fault and issued him a citation. I later appeared in court to testify under oath.

The defendant spoke first. He explained that I had suddenly changed lanes in front of him, leaving him neither enough room nor enough time to stop.

His account was true.

When I was called to testify, I glanced toward the officer. He shook his head. I interpreted his gesture as disapproval, although I could not know what he was thinking.

I was about to deny the defendant’s account and support the citation.

But the words would not come.

My tongue felt tied. I could only mumble incoherently.

The judge asked me to nod if the defendant’s account was correct.

I nodded.

I could not speak, but I could acknowledge the truth.

Still stunned, I waited for the elevator with the defendant and his wife. She smiled at me and simply said, “Thank you.”

On the drive home, I asked aloud, “What just happened?”

A comforting peace settled over me. Then I heard what felt like a quiet whisper:

“I kept you from lying under oath.”

I pulled over to regain my composure.

I understood that moment as God’s merciful correction. It stayed with me for weeks.

The contrast still astonishes me.

Balaam’s donkey could not ordinarily speak—yet she did.

I could ordinarily speak—yet I could not.

In Scripture, the LORD opened the donkey’s mouth. In my experience, I understood Him to have kept a lie from leaving mine.

One interruption came through speech.
The other came through silence.

Both brought truth into view.

Balaam needed his eyes opened to the danger ahead. I needed to acknowledge the truth I already knew.

That day, wisdom did not come through finding the right words to defend myself.

It came through a simple nod.

The fear of the LORD calls me to take His truth seriously—even when admitting it costs me the appearance of being right.

Your Turn

Think of a situation in which protecting your image has become more important than acknowledging the truth. Before you prepare your next response, pause. What needs to be admitted? What words need to remain unspoken?

A Noble Prayer

Reflection

Three Questions

Before making a decision you are praying about, ask:

1. What do I want?

2. What does Scripture make clear?

3. What kind of fruit is this direction likely to produce?

Then ask one more:

Am I willing for God to answer differently than I prefer?

That final question often reveals more than the first three.

Application

Your Turn

Choose one decision, request, or unresolved situation you are currently praying about.

Write three headings:

BEFORE

What are my motives, fears, hopes, assumptions, and preferences?

DURING

What truth from Scripture, wise counsel, conviction, or correction do I need to remain open to?

AFTER

How will I evaluate the answer without rushing to label it success, failure, blessing, punishment, yes, or no?

Then write:

“Lord, I want Your direction more than I want confirmation of my preference.”

Sit with that sentence.

Let it become a genuine prayer.

A Noble Prayer

Divine Discernment