Trees vs. Robots

How we see ourselves matters in discernment

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In case you missed it, last week I wrote about how God usually speaks to us. This essay is a kind of sequel, offering a context for understanding ourselves as listeners.

If you prefer to listen to this essay, there’s an audio version for paid subscribers at the end.

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We live in a world that often tries to dismiss the fact that we, as human persons, are body-soul unities. We talk about the need to “recharge” our batteries, or claim to “just need a re-set” as though we’re machines that can be dealt with by the simple flip of a switch. 

And sometimes we even treat our bodies like they’re machines, instead of part of the natural universe of creation. We disregard night and day; we forget that seasons of rest are the norm and not the exception; and we tend to think that the right combination of chemicals and surgery will heal all our ills. 

Of course, sometimes we do need to work through the night or have busy seasons or use chemicals and surgery to deal with our injuries. Sometimes that’s the right choice. We’re not actually plants: we’ve been given an intellect and free will by God to discern the good use of things in this world. 

The trouble comes when we fail to honour God’s design, both in our disposition and in our actions. St. Paul tells us that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, and we should honor God with them. 

A Tree-Like Approach to Discernment

So what does this have to do with discernment? A lot, I think. Because sometimes this vague cultural sense of being more machine than organism can infect our prayer life and discernment. 

Sometimes we pray like we don’t have bodies, or that what we do with our bodies doesn’t matter. And sometimes we listen to God like we don’t have bodies, or that what happens in our bodies doesn’t matter. 

I’m not saying we should sit around listening for an audible voice from the heavens to come straight to our ears. (That can happen, but it’s pretty extraordinary!) But when we’re discerning, when we’re trying to listen for God’s voice and the sounds of our own soul, it’s best to approach it more like we would a tree and less like we would a robot. 

Here’s what I mean. I’m no gardener, but I know that trees have their own timeline that can’t be rushed. They also have subtle ways of revealing when they’re flourishing (green leaves!) and when they’re not (yellow-brown tipped leaves). 

The only thing is, you have to know how the tree is designed to know if it’s really flourishing or unwell. A tree that has leaves going yellow and then brown in November in the northern hemisphere is actually a healthy tree. A tree that is putting out buds in January might not survive well in spring. And above all, with a tree, you can’t rush a ‘fix’. You can give it more water, and wait. You can prune its branches, and wait. You can cover its roots with compost, and wait. 

A robot is different. There’s not usually much nuance to a machine: if the part is broken, you fix it or replace it. If it needs to be re-set, you push the re-set button. There’s a clear set of instructions you can refer to, a map of how everything fits together. In that sense, it’s easy! 

Sometimes when we discern, we want to have a robotic approach, precisely because it would be easy: God, tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Fix me. I want a re-set button so I can start all over again.

But actually God takes a slower, more nuanced approach. Are your leaves drying out? He asks. Maybe you could try more water. Then, wait see what happens. Are you sad because your branches are bare? Don’t you know that it’s January? You’re not supposed to be producing fruit right now: the thing to do is rest. 

Discerning like we’re actually body-soul unities and not machines means that we need patience with ourselves and with God. It means being willing to try things that aren’t just quick-fixes. It means learning how we’re designed so we know what flourishing looks like - and respecting that that includes seasons of rest or inactivity or fruitlessness.

It also means actually paying attention to what’s happening in our bodies as we discern.

Next week, we’ll talk more about what that looks like and I’ll share a list of practical questions I use regularly in my own discernment and in conversations with my clients as we discuss discerning as body-soul unities. 

I’d love to hear from you: do you ever catch yourself treating your body like a machine? Or using phrases that describe it as a machine? How do you feel about seeing your life in seasons? Do you think of seasonality when you discern?

And if you’d prefer to listen, here’s an audio for paid subscribers: