This week’s assignment is designed to be completed slowly and prayerfully. Use the PRAY framework below as a guide. The goal is not to rush or read ahead, but to remain present with the readings assigned for this week.

P Pause

Begin by slowing down. Set aside distractions and take a few quiet moments to become present before God. Ask the Holy Spirit to guide your time in Scripture and reflection.

You may begin with a simple prayer such as:

“Lord, help me to listen, receive, and respond with honesty and openness.”

R Read

Read 2 Peter 1:3–11.

Read the passage slowly and attentively. You may wish to read it more than once. Pay attention to the qualities Peter names and how they describe growth in a life shaped by Christ. Allow the text to speak before moving toward analysis or application.

Look Ahead Reading for next week

Mark 12:28–34

A Attend

As you read, notice what is happening within you.

What words or phrases stand out

Where do you feel encouraged or challenged

What questions or longings surface

Reflection Question

What is your current spiritual state and where do you sense a desire or invitation to grow

It is okay if the answer feels unclear or incomplete

You may find it helpful to journal your reflections or sit quietly with them in prayer.

Y Yield

Offer what you have noticed to God. Bring your insights, questions, doubts, and hopes before Him. Ask God to shape your heart and guide your growth through this process.

Reading Expectations

Please do not read far ahead. Stay with the readings assigned for the week and allow them time to work on you. Spiritual growth often comes through slow attention rather than speed.

When reading Spiritual Classics you may not agree with everything you encounter and that is okay. We encourage you to think critically and engage thoughtfully. Test what you read against Scripture. Hold onto what is helpful and as the saying goes chew on it and spit out the bone. Our goal is not agreement with every author but growth into the likeness of Christ.

Key Passage: Mark 12:28–34

Then reread verses 30–31, pausing after each phrase:

Love the Lord your God with all your heart

With all your soul

With all your mind

With all your strength

Love your neighbor as yourself

Let the words sit before moving on.

Heart, Soul, Mind, Strength

Use the following as guiding categories. These overlap; the goal is awareness, not perfection.

Heart – desires, loves, motives, longings

Soul – inner life, spiritual vitality, closeness with God

Mind – thoughts, beliefs, attention, understanding

Strength – actions, habits, discipline, consistency

Rank yourself (1–10) in each area:

Briefly reflect:

Where do you feel strongest right now?

Where do you feel weakest or most invited to grow?

Book Work: Sorting the Disciplines

Open your book and look at the table of contents. For each discipline or section, decide which category it best fits under:

Heart

Soul

Mind

Strength

Some may overlap, choose the primary category. Notice which areas you naturally gravitate toward and which you tend to neglect.

Loving Your Neighbor

Pick three practices or disciplines from those contents you can do that will help you love your neighbor well. Be specific and realistic. Write them down.

A Needed Turn

Now choose three that others could do for you that help you feel genuinely loved. write those down.

This is an exercise in honesty and humility. We often hope to be loved in specific ways but never name them.

Reflect:

Do I offer love to others in the same way I hope to receive it?

The real list is probably your list with how you want to be loved. We tend to treat others the way we want to be treated.

Reading for the Week

Read Thomas Moore, pages 5–9.

Read slowly and reflect

In A Godly Meditation, Thomas More creates space for honest reflection about our relationship with God. Rather than laying out strict steps, he invites us to notice what’s happening in our hearts, how we experience God, how we approach prayer, and what we truly long for. There’s a sense of freedom here, even playfulness, as if the goal is not perfection but attentiveness.

More raises an important tension: God is the source of all life, yet it’s easy to become turned inward. His writing gently asks whether our spiritual lives feel more like self-examination or genuine connection. This echoes later writers like John Donne, who also wrestle with what it means to know God personally rather than simply think about Him. The bridesmaid analogy often found in scripture invites a deeper question: When you think about God, do you feel more inclined to ask questions—or to draw near? It’s not meant to pressure an answer, but to help us notice where our desire actually sits.

Private prayer and meditation appear as moments to pause and pay attention. Rather than adding another task, they invite us to notice what already fills our focus and how God fits into that space.

Group Reflection Questions:

How did this meditation make you feel as you read or listened?

Where do you notice your attention going most days?

When you think about God, what emotions come up first?

Does the idea of quiet, private prayer feel inviting, uncomfortable, or neutral?

What might it look like to make space for God this week, without forcing it?

This Week’s Practice:

To keep reflecting on these questions, we’ll be sharing a Private Prayer handout below. There’s no expectation, just an invitation to notice what comes up as you spend a little intentional time with God.

In this week’s Spiritual Growth gathering, we lingered with one of Jesus’ most unsettling teachings: loving our enemies. Not as a command to master, but as an invitation to notice what stirs in us when we hear it. Resistance, discomfort, confusion, even quiet agreement all surfaced as honest responses.

Jesus’ words in Luke 6:27–36 press against our instincts. Love those who oppose you. Forgive without keeping score. Release the impulse to defend or retaliate. Rather than rushing to application, we allowed the weight of that invitation to sit with us. How hard is it, really, to love someone who has hurt us? And what does that reveal about where our hearts are aimed?

Our conversation turned toward the idea of sin as “missing the mark.” Not simply wrongdoing, but misalignment. Like bowling with good intention but poor aim, we often desire what is good yet fall short in how we love. Sometimes we offer too much love without truth. Other times we cling to truth while withholding grace. In both cases, the mark is missed—not from rebellion, but imbalance.

This helped reframe the struggle of loving enemies. The issue is rarely just behavior. It is often perception. When we stop seeing others as children of God, they quietly become problems to manage rather than people to love. Jesus’ teaching invites a shift in how we see, not just how we act.

We also reflected on the Israelites wandering in the wilderness, choosing what felt familiar over trusting where God was leading. In the same way, resentment and unforgiveness can feel justified, even protective, while keeping us spiritually stuck. Letting go is not easy, but it opens the possibility of movement and trust.

Rather than offering solutions, the invitation this week was simple: to notice. Where does forgiveness feel costly? Where does love feel constrained? And what might obedience look like before emotion catches up?

Group Reflection Questions

What emotions surfaced for you as we talked about loving enemies?

Where do you notice yourself missing the mark most often—through withholding grace or lacking boundaries?

Who feels hardest to see as a child of God right now?

What patterns or responses feel familiar but might be keeping you stuck?

What does “letting go” look like for you this week?

This Week’s Practice

For this week, we invite you to read page 57 in the book on fasting. As you read, notice what fasting reveals about attention, dependence, and desire. There’s no pressure to do more—just space to become aware of what God may already be stirring.

Most of us don’t wake up intending to be critical. Often, criticism feels justified. It can sound like discernment, high standards, or honesty. But Marshall invites us to ask a harder question:

Is my criticism rooted in love, or in pride, impatience, insecurity, or control?

1. Understanding Criticalness

There is a difference between discernment and a critical spirit:

Discernment seeks restoration.

Criticalness seeks superiority.

Discernment speaks truth in love.

Criticalness often magnifies faults while minimizing our own.

Jesus’ words in Matthew 7 remind us to notice the plank in our own eye before focusing on someone else’s speck. Lent is a season to slow down enough to actually see that plank.

2. What Criticism Reveals

Marshall discovered that even unspoken criticism shapes the heart. Repeated inner judgments form habits of thought. Over time, they harden us.

When we notice criticism rising, it’s worth asking:

What expectation of mine is being violated?

Am I tired? Frustrated? Feeling unseen?

Is this about them, or about something in me?

Criticism often reveals deeper needs.

3. Replacing Judgment with Prayer

Marshall suggests a simple but powerful practice:

Turn every critical thought into a prayer.

Instead of rehearsing frustration, rehearse intercession.

This shifts the heart from superiority to humility, from reaction to compassion. The goal is not silence for silence’s sake, it is transformation of posture.

4. The Goal of the Fast

Fasting from criticism is not about pretending problems don’t exist. It is about examining the tone of our heart. If God corrected us the way we internally critique others, how would that feel?

The Gospel reminds us that we are corrected with mercy and shaped with patience. To fast from criticalness is to mirror the heart of Christ. This Lent, the question is not, “How well can I control my words?” It is, “How deeply can I love?”

Discussion Questions

When does criticism most easily surface in you?

How do you personally distinguish discernment from a critical spirit?

What insecurity, hurt, or unmet expectation might sit beneath your criticism?

What relationship in your life would change if you replaced critique with prayer?

What practical step can help you pause before reacting?

Homework:

Read the “Dealing with temptations” handout by Thomas Kempis

Thomas à Kempis teaches that temptation is not a sign that something is wrong with you — it is evidence that you are human. Even the faithful face inner battles. The question is not “Why am I tempted?” but “What will I do when temptation comes?”

1. Understanding the Battle

Kempis helps us see two kinds of struggle:

Temptation – inner desires, impulses, self-control issues, passions pulling us in certain directions.

Tribulation – external hardship, pressure, suffering, or difficult circumstances.

Temptation tests our character from the inside.

Tribulation tests our trust from the outside.

Both invite us to lean into God.

2. Discerning Your Desires

Not every passion should be followed. Culture says, “Follow your heart.” Scripture says, “Guard your heart.”

We must ask:

Is this desire leading me closer to God or further away?

Is this a lesser good distracting me from a greater good?

Kempis reminds us that unchecked passions can quietly shape our direction. Self-control is not repression — it is strength aimed at love.

3. Don’t Worship the Discipline

One of his strongest warnings is this: do not let the discipline replace God.

It is easy to get focused on:

How well we fast

How strong our willpower is

How much we improve

But the goal is not self-mastery for its own sake. The goal is to love, honor, and praise God. Spiritual practices are tools, not trophies.

4. The Right Source

Psalm 1 describes a tree planted by streams of water. A healthy tree draws from its source. It doesn’t compete with other trees for life — it is nourished by the stream.

When we seek peace in food, distraction, relationships, achievement, or comfort, we may numb our hunger — but we do not nourish our souls.

Temptation often reveals where we are trying to drink from the wrong stream.

The Christian life is not about never feeling desire. It is about learning where true life comes from.

Victory is not perfection — it is returning to God quickly and consistently.

Discussion Questions

What temptation most often tests your self-control?

How do you discern between a healthy desire and a destructive one?

Where do you most often seek relief instead of nourishment?

Have you ever focused more on spiritual discipline than on loving God?

What practical habit (prayer, pause, accountability, Scripture) could help you endure temptation this week?

Homework

For next week, please read page 111 in your book on Simplicity and come prepared to share one key insight or conviction that stood out to you.

This week we want to do something a little different. We are sharing a short reflection from one of our members who has been walking through this week’s lessons in a very personal way. Their journey with the idea of simplicity has been both honest and meaningful, and we hope it encourages you as you reflect on your own faith walk. Enjoy

Embracing Simplicity on My Faith Journey

In today's fast-paced world, the relentless pursuit of busyness and accumulation often overshadows the things that truly matter. Recently, during a Spiritual Growth class, I was prompted to reflect on the meaning of simplicity in my life. It’s a concept that has become especially poignant on my personal faith journey—a journey marked by a desire to grow closer to God while navigating the complexities of everyday existence.

Simplicity may seem like a small word, but its implications are vast. At its essence, simplicity calls for us to strip away the distractions that often cloud our spiritual focus. The Bible provides clear guidance on this theme, particularly in Matthew 6:19-21, where we are urged not to accumulate earthly treasures, which are fleeting, but rather to invest in treasures that endure eternally. This teaching struck me deeply, prompting critical self-reflection on whether my daily choices align with divine principles or are merely caught up in the relentless chase for material gain.

The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, articulates a secret that resonates with my heart: learning to be content in every circumstance. Philippians 4:11-13 captures this beautifully, where Paul states, “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation.” This idea of contentment struck me as I started to reflect on the clutter—both physical and emotional—that surrounded me. It became clear that the key to a fulfilling life lies not in the accumulation of things but in our connection to God, to others, and to our true selves.

As I began to declutter my life, I discovered that less stuff indeed creates more room for God. The process was liberating; I found that letting go of unnecessary possessions lightened not just my physical space but also my spirit. With less to manage, I could focus on what truly matters—deepening my relationship with God and nurturing the bonds with my loved ones. It’s surprising how much mental clarity one can gain from tidying up; the act becomes a form of worship, a sprint toward a more faithful and meaningful life.

But simplicity isn’t merely about cleaning out old drawers. It’s about abandoning the emotional weights that keep us stuck, whether that’s the guilt of past mistakes or the burden of unmet expectations. In channeling my inner decluttering diva, I transformed my personal space into a haven for my heart and soul. I realized that decluttering is a spiritual practice, one that fosters an environment where prayer and reflection can flourish.

In my quest for simplicity, I’ve also found a renewed appreciation for nature and the vibrant community surrounding me. Psalm 46:10 urges us to “be still, and know that I am God.” This call to stillness has inspired me to immerse myself in the outdoors, to experience the beauty of creation firsthand. Whether it's a walk in the park or a moment spent in the quiet of a forest, these spaces become sacred reminders of God's handiwork, drawing me closer to Him.

Moreover, this journey has enriched my understanding of faith. The command to love God and to love our neighbors, found in Mark 12:30-31, has taken on a new depth for me. I’ve learned that love is rooted in kindness, humility, and selfless service, extending beyond the boundaries of our busy lives.

Ultimately, my faith journey reveals that seeking simplicity is more than a lifestyle choice; it’s a pathway to profound spiritual growth. By shedding the burdens of complexity, I find clarity and purpose, nurturing a deeper relationship with God and those around me. In a world that often feels chaotic, embracing simplicity serves as a powerful anchor, grounding me in faith, love, and the beautiful, intricate dance of life.

This week’s reflection centers on the Christian practice of self-denial. At first glance, giving something up may seem like it would reduce our joy, but Scripture teaches the opposite. When we surrender our own desires and priorities to Christ, we actually make room for a deeper joy rooted in obedience and love for God.

Jesus Himself modeled this for us. Though He was equal with God, He humbled Himself and became obedient even to the point of death on a cross (Philippians 2). Because of this, Christians are called to follow His example—setting aside our own pride, desires, and selfishness so that we can better love God and serve others.

Practicing self-denial requires self-awareness. We must learn to recognize the difference between our needs and our wants. Often our desires can feel like necessities, especially when we have believed them for a long time. But through prayer, reflection, and submission to Christ, we begin to untangle those desires and allow God to reshape our priorities.

There are several parts of our inner life involved in this process:

Reason – the ability to think and discern truth

Will – the decision to act or choose a certain path

Desire – the longings that pull us toward what we want

All three influence our decisions. When these are not submitted to Christ, our desires can begin to control our lives. But when we bring them before God, He helps us realign them with His will.

Self-denial is not about pretending we are perfect or ignoring our brokenness. Instead, it begins with honest humility—acknowledging the areas of our lives that need transformation. We bring these struggles before God again and again, trusting Him to work through our weakness.

God often reveals His glory not through our strength, but through our brokenness and dependence on Him. When we humbly surrender ourselves, His mercy and grace begin to lead us out of that brokenness and into new life. Ultimately, self-denial is not simply about giving things up—it is about giving ourselves fully to Christ, allowing His grace to reshape our hearts so that we can live in obedience, humility, and love just like he exampled.

Next weeks homework is to read Augustine Pg. 67 in the book Cleansing the Heart

This week’s reflection centers on the idea that the Christian life is not just about outward change, but inward transformation. Augustine reminds us that God is not primarily after our behavior, He is after our hearts. True spiritual growth begins when what is happening inside of us starts to align with what God desires. The heart, in Augustine’s understanding, is the center of our love. It is where our desires are formed and where our attention rests. And often, without realizing it, our hearts become cluttered, filled with distractions, attachments, and lesser loves that slowly pull us away from God.

Cleansing the heart is not something we accomplish through sheer effort. It is something God does within us as we turn toward Him. But it does require our willingness. It requires us to slow down, to examine what we are holding onto, and to ask honest questions about what we truly love most.

Augustine points us to a simple but challenging truth:

we become what we love.

If our hearts are fixed on temporary things, we will feel scattered and restless. But if our hearts are turned toward God, we begin to experience a deeper sense of peace and clarity. Cleansing, then, is not just removing what is wrong, it is reordering our loves so that God is first. This process often feels uncomfortable. As God begins to reveal what is in our hearts, we may notice patterns, habits, or desires that don’t reflect Him. But this is not meant to bring shame, it is an invitation. An invitation to let go of what cannot satisfy and to receive something better.

Cleansing the heart is a daily practice of surrender. It looks like returning to God again and again, allowing Him to search us, renew us, and reshape our desires. Over time, what once pulled us away begins to lose its grip, and our love for God grows stronger and more steady. In the end, a cleansed heart is not a perfect heart, it is a surrendered one. A heart that is open to God, attentive to His voice, and increasingly aligned with His love.

This Week’s Practice:

Take time to sit quietly before God and ask, “What is filling my heart right now?”

Write down anything that comes to mind, and prayerfully surrender those things back to Him, asking Him to reorder your loves.

Homework

Handout: Catherine of Genoa, Waiting Upon God

This week’s reflection centers on the quiet and often overlooked practice of waiting on God. In a world that constantly pushes us toward action, productivity, and immediate results, waiting can feel uncomfortable, even unproductive. But Catherine of Genoa reminds us that waiting is not empty time; it is deeply spiritual time.

Waiting upon God is not passive, it is attentive. It is a posture of the heart that says, “God, I trust You more than my need to control outcomes.” Instead of rushing ahead with our own plans, we learn to remain present with Him, allowing Him to lead in His timing. One of the challenges of waiting is that it exposes what we rely on. When answers don’t come quickly or circumstances don’t change, we begin to feel the tension of uncertainty. In that space, we often try to take things back into our own hands. But waiting invites us to do the opposite, to release control and deepen our trust.

Catherine points toward a kind of surrender that is steady and quiet. It is not forced or anxious, but rooted in confidence that God is at work even when we cannot see it. Waiting becomes an act of love, where we choose God Himself over the outcomes we desire. There is also a refining that happens in waiting. Our impatience, our need for clarity, and our desire for control are gently brought to the surface. Not to discourage us, but to draw us deeper. In learning to wait, we begin to desire God’s presence more than quick answers.

Waiting upon God reshapes our pace. It teaches us to slow down, to listen, and to trust that His timing is not only different from ours, but better. Over time, what once felt like delay begins to feel like formation. In the end, waiting is not about getting through a season, it is about being with God in it. It is learning to rest in Him, to trust Him fully, and to believe that He is working even in the silence.

This Week’s Practice:

Take a few moments each day to sit quietly before God without asking for anything. Simply be with Him. When you feel the urge to rush or fill the silence, gently return to stillness and remind yourself: God is present, even here.

Homework

Book: Celebration: John Henry Newman, Religious Joy Christ a Quickening Spirit (Pg

327)

This week’s reflection centers on the nature of true Christian joy. John Henry Newman reminds us that joy is not something we manufacture or chase, it is something that comes from Christ Himself. It is the result of a life made alive by His Spirit.

Newman describes Christ as a quickening Spirit, meaning the One who brings life where there was once lifelessness. This is not just a future hope, it is a present reality. When Christ is at work within us, He awakens our hearts, renews our minds, and fills us with a joy that is deeper than circumstance. This kind of joy is different from happiness. Happiness often depends on what is happening around us, good days, answered prayers, things going our way. But Christian joy is rooted in something steadier. It comes from knowing Christ, being formed by Him, and trusting that He is at work in all things.

There is also a quiet strength to this joy. It does not ignore hardship or pretend everything is easy. Instead, it exists alongside difficulty. It holds steady even in seasons of uncertainty, because its source is not changing circumstances, but a living Savior. Newman invites us to consider that joy grows as we remain connected to Christ. The more we open our lives to Him, the more His life begins to shape ours. Over time, we begin to notice a shift, not just in how we feel, but in how we see. Gratitude deepens. Hope becomes more constant. Even ordinary moments begin to carry a sense of life and meaning.

At times, we may feel distant from that joy. Life can weigh heavily, and our hearts can feel dull or distracted. But Newman reminds us that Christ is still the One who brings life. When we turn back to Him, even in small ways, He begins to renew that joy within us. In the end, Christian joy is not something we strive to hold onto, it is something we receive as we stay close to Christ. He is the source, the sustainer, and the One who continually breathes life into our hearts.

This Week’s Practice:

Take time each day to thank God for where you see His life at work—even in small ways. Ask Him to renew your heart and to help you experience the deeper joy that comes from walking closely with Him.

Homework

Handout: Athanasius, Jesus Christ the Image of God

This week’s reflection centers on the quiet and often unfamiliar practice of solitude. In a world filled with constant noise, conversation, and distraction, being alone can feel uncomfortable, even unnecessary. But Anne Morrow Lindbergh reminds us that solitude is not emptiness, it is space where something deeper can be found.

Solitude is not about isolation. It is about presence. It is choosing, even for a moment, to step away from the voices around us so we can become aware of what is happening within us—and where God is in it. Without solitude, life can begin to feel scattered. Our thoughts are pulled in different directions, our attention divided, our souls stretched thin.

One of the challenges of solitude is that it removes distraction. When everything quiets down, we are often left face to face with ourselves, our thoughts, our worries, our desires. It can feel unsettling. We may realize how dependent we’ve become on noise to avoid what’s underneath. But solitude invites us not to run from that space, but to remain in it.

Lindbergh uses the image of a “bowl of stars,” a reminder that when everything grows dark and still, we begin to see what was always there. In the same way, solitude doesn’t create clarity—it reveals it. What feels like emptiness at first can slowly become awareness. And in that awareness, we begin to notice God’s presence in a quieter, steadier way.

There is also a kind of restoring that happens in solitude. As we step away from the constant pull of activity, something within us begins to settle. We don’t have to perform, respond, or keep up. We simply are. And in that stillness, God meets us, not with pressure, but with presence.

Over time, solitude begins to reshape us. It teaches us to slow down, to listen, and to be less dependent on external noise for a sense of peace. What once felt uncomfortable can begin to feel grounding. What once felt empty can begin to feel full.

In the end, solitude is not about withdrawing from life. It is about returning to it more whole. It is learning to be with God in the quiet, and discovering that He has been there all along.

This Week’s Practice:

Take 10–15 minutes each day to step into solitude.

No phone, no music, no distractions—just quiet.

Sit, walk, or simply be still.

When your mind begins to wander or feel restless, gently return to this truth:

God is here, even in the silence.

Reflection Questions:

What comes to mind when you think of being alone vs solitude?

What makes solitude feel difficult or uncomfortable for you?

What “noise” do you tend to rely on throughout your day?

Have you ever experienced clarity or peace in a quiet moment?

What do you think God might want to show you in stillness?

Homework:

Handout: John Baillie, Morning Prayers

This week’s reflection centers on the quiet and often overlooked practice of morning prayer. In a world that tends to rush us out the door and into the demands of the day, slowing down to meet with God first can feel unfamiliar, even inconvenient. But John Baillie reminds us that the beginning of the day holds a unique kind of space, one where our hearts can be set before everything else begins to shape them.

Morning prayer is not about saying the right words or following a perfect structure. It is about awareness. Before the noise, before the responsibilities, before the distractions, we are invited to recognize that God is already present. The day does not begin with us. It begins with Him.

One of the challenges of this practice is how quickly our minds move. Even in the first moments of waking, we begin thinking ahead, what needs to be done, what we are worried about, what we might be carrying. Prayer can feel like something we will get to later. But Baillie gently brings us back to the present, reminding us that these first moments are not interruptions to our day, they are the foundation of it.

There is also a simplicity in his prayers that is easy to miss. They are not complicated or distant. They hold gratitude, dependence, and surrender together in a steady way. They remind us that we do not come to God because we are prepared, but because we need Him. Morning prayer becomes less about effort and more about returning, returning our attention, our trust, and our day back to Him.

As we begin the day in this way, something subtle begins to change. Instead of being pulled in every direction, we carry a sense of grounding with us. Instead of reacting to everything around us, we move with a quiet awareness that God is near. The day may still be full, but it is no longer empty of His presence.

Over time, this practice begins to shape us. It teaches us to start from a place of trust rather than urgency, to listen before we rush, and to recognize that we are not walking through the day alone. What begins as a small, intentional moment can begin to influence everything that follows.

In the end, morning prayer is not about adding something new to your schedule. It is about beginning with what matters most. It is choosing, even briefly, to place your life before God and to step into the day with Him already at the center.

This Week’s Practice:

Set aside 10–15 minutes each morning to begin your day with prayer.

Before reaching for your phone or starting your routine, pause.

Acknowledge God’s presence and offer Him what lies ahead.

Let your prayer be simple, honest, and unhurried.

If your mind begins to wander, gently return to this truth:

God is here at the beginning of this day.

Reflection Questions:

What usually fills the first moments of your morning?

What makes it difficult to begin your day with stillness?

How might your day look different if it started with prayer?

What do you find yourself bringing to God first—gratitude, worry, or something else?

Where have you noticed God’s presence when you’ve slowed down?

Homework:

Book: Guidance: Ignatius Loyola, Rules for the Discernment of Spirits (Pg 291)

This week’s reflection centers on the practice of discernment—learning to notice what is happening beneath the surface of our thoughts, emotions, and desires.

Ignatius of Loyola invites us to slow down enough to recognize that our inner world is not neutral. There are movements within us, subtle shifts that either draw us toward God or quietly pull us away. Most of the time, we move through our days without naming them. We react, we decide, we feel—but we don’t always pause to ask where those movements are coming from.

Discernment begins with attention.

It asks us to take seriously what is happening within us, not to overanalyze every feeling, but to become aware that our hearts are being shaped in real time. Ignatius describes this in terms of consolation and desolation. Consolation is not just happiness, and desolation is not simply sadness. They are deeper than that. They speak to direction.

Consolation is anything that draws us toward God—toward trust, humility, peace, and love. It can come in quiet clarity, in a sense of steadiness, or even in the middle of difficulty. Desolation, on the other hand, is what pulls us inward and away—toward confusion, discouragement, self-reliance, or isolation. It often distorts what is true and makes us feel distant from God, even when He has not moved.

One of the challenges of discernment is that these movements are not always obvious. Desolation can disguise itself as urgency or certainty. Consolation can feel subtle and easy to overlook. This is why Ignatius does not call us to react quickly, but to pay attention over time.

There is also an important grounding here. Discernment is not about abandoning reason or chasing feelings. God is not irrational, and He does not lead us into confusion. He has given us both reason and revelation, and they work together. As we discern, we hold onto what is true, even when our emotions shift.

At the same time, we are reminded not to confuse our limits with God’s.

Not understanding something fully does not make it untrue or unreasonable. Sometimes discernment requires patience—waiting long enough for clarity to emerge rather than forcing a decision in the moment.

Ignatius also places a strong emphasis on humility and community. We are not meant to navigate this alone. Trusted voices, wise counsel, and honest relationships often help us see what we cannot see ourselves. Discernment becomes clearer when it is shared.

Over time, this practice begins to shape how we move through life. We become less reactive and more attentive. We learn to notice patterns instead of isolated moments. We grow in our ability to recognize the voice of God—not as something distant, but as something present and active in the middle of our everyday lives.

In the end, discernment is not about getting every decision right.

It is about becoming people who are attentive to God, responsive to His leading, and willing to follow where He is drawing us.

This Week’s Practice:

Set aside 10–15 minutes at the end of each day for reflection.

Look back over your day slowly.

Notice moments where you felt peace, clarity, or closeness to God.

Notice moments where you felt restless, discouraged, or distant.

Do not judge or fix—just pay attention.

Ask God for insight into what was drawing you toward Him and what was pulling you away.

Reflection Questions:

When during your day do you feel most at peace or grounded?

When do you tend to feel restless, anxious, or disconnected?

What patterns are you beginning to notice in your inner life?

How do you typically respond in moments of desolation?

Who is someone you trust to help you discern what God might be doing?

Homework:

May 13, 14 - Book: Study: George McDonald, The Cause of Spiritual Stupidity (Pg 79)