Tag: discernment

Dreams and Discernment

There’s something both beautiful and unsettling about dreams. In the Book of Jeremiah 23, we’re reminded that not every voice that claims God’s authority truly carries it. “Let these false prophets tell their dreams,” the Lord says, “but let my true messengers faithfully proclaim my every word… There is a difference between chaff and wheat.”

A story is told of a young man whose vivid dream led him to a distant beach, where he met someone searching for truth, and that encounter became the beginning of faith. It’s a gentle reminder that God can still speak in unexpected ways, even through dreams, stirring hearts and guiding steps.

Yet Jeremiah’s warning lingers, steady and necessary. Not every dream is divine, not every impression is truth. Some words, though confidently spoken, grow from human imagination rather than God’s Spirit. When we mistake chaff for wheat, confusion follows, and trust can be shaken.

So how do we discern? We return, again and again, to Scripture. The more we sit with God’s word, the more familiar his voice becomes. It shapes our instincts, steadies our judgement, and anchors us when other voices compete for attention. What seems less dramatic, reading, reflecting, quietly obeying, is in fact deeply nourishing.

God’s word is our daily bread, sustaining, reliable, and true. And if, on occasion, he chooses to speak through a dream, we receive it with humility and test it with care. Wheat first, always; and if a dream comes, then perhaps, by grace, dessert.

What to leave behind?

New Year’s Eve has a particular stillness to it, a threshold moment where we pause with one foot in the familiar and the other hovering over what’s yet to come. It’s tempting to treat this night as a hard reset, as if everything behind us must be swept away to make room for something new. But wisdom rarely lives in extremes. It invites us to look back with honesty and tenderness, to notice what has shaped us, and to choose carefully what we carry forward.

Some things deserve to be packed gently for the journey ahead. Habits that have rooted us, relationships that have deepened us, moments of courage we didn’t know we had until they were asked of us. These are not accidental successes, they’re signs of growth, grace, and quiet perseverance. Carrying them forward isn’t clinging to the past, it’s honouring what has helped us become more fully ourselves.

And then there are the things it’s time to release. Old grudges that have grown heavy, patterns of thinking that shrink our hope, voices, including our own, that tell us we’re not enough. Letting go isn’t failure. It’s an act of trust, a decision to stop giving our energy to what no longer brings life.

As the year turns, we’re not asked to reinvent ourselves overnight. We’re invited to travel lighter, wiser, and more attentive. To keep what serves love, justice, and kindness, and to lay down what doesn’t. In that gentle discernment, we make space for God to meet us again, not as strangers to the future, but as people ready to step into it with intention and hope.