When the Spirit Speaks: Discerning Visions and Voices

Have you ever been in a conversation where someone confidently declared, “The Holy Spirit told me to...” followed by something that made you inwardly cringe? Perhaps it was quitting their job without any plan, leaving their spouse because they “weren’t feeling spiritually fed.”

This uncomfortable scenario touches on one of the most delicate and crucial aspects of spiritual life: the discernment of spirits. When someone insists the "Holy Spirit" told them what to do, but it doesn't quite fit with Biblical virtues (like prudence or humility) or even contradicts what the Scriptures say, we find ourselves in treacherous waters. For instance, my wife has a friend who thinks the "Holy Spirit" told her to start a new church, because she thinks all the churches in town are in error. Armed with a "Bible College" degree, she believes she's "right" and everyone else is apparently wrong. The concern isn't that she could be right about certain things, but that the method of discernment is inherently problematic.  Is this really coming from the Holy Spirit? If what you heard actually was, is it possible that whatever you think you heard you might have misinterpreted? 

St. John of the Cross (a sixteenth century reformer of the Carmelite Order) offers profound wisdom on this matter in The Ascent of Mt. Carmel. His words, written centuries ago, speak with startling relevance to our contemporary situation:

"The reason souls become so readily engrossed in visions must be the sensible aspect toward which humans have a natural bent. And since individuals are already attracted and disposed through their apprehensions of those distinct and sensible things, it is enough for them to see in their director, or any other person, some esteem for these visions, and they will acquire the same. Not only this but their desire for these visions is also stimulated, and they feed upon them and become more inclined and attached to them without being aware of it. Numerous imperfections constantly arise, because these individuals lose humility, at least. They think their visions are significant, that they possess something profitable, and that God is giving them prominence. They go about feeling pleased and somewhat satisfied with themselves, which is against humility. Although these persons are unaware of it, the devil then secretly augments this feeling and begins to suggest thoughts about others: whether others receive these visions or not, or if their visions are authentic or not. Such thoughts are contrary to holy simplicity and spiritual solitude." (The Ascent of Mt. Carmel, Book 2, Ch. 18)

The Natural Bent Toward the Sensible

John of the Cross begins by identifying a fundamental human tendency: we are naturally drawn to what we can sense and feel. This "natural bent" isn't sinful in itself—God created us as embodied beings who experience the world through our senses. However, this inclination becomes problematic when we begin to prioritize extraordinary spiritual experiences over the ordinary means of grace.

Consider how this plays out in practice. When someone shares a dramatic story of how "God spoke to them" in a dream or through a strong feeling, it captures our imagination far more than the person who quietly reads Scripture daily and slowly grows in wisdom. The sensational always seems more spiritual than the mundane. Yet Jesus himself warned against this tendency when he told Thomas, "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" (John 20:29, ESV).

 

The Contagion of Spiritual Pride

St. John notes something psychologically astute: when we see others esteeming these extraordinary experiences, we begin to desire them ourselves. It's a kind of spiritual peer pressure that operates below the level of conscious awareness. We "feed upon them and become more inclined and attached to them without being aware of it."

This dynamic is particularly dangerous in our age of social media, where people can broadcast their supposed divine revelations to thousands instantly. When someone posts about their mystical experience and receives hundreds of affirmations, it creates a feedback loop that St. John would have recognized immediately. The desire for spiritual experiences becomes entangled with the desire for recognition and validation.

 

The Echo of the False Prophets

This phenomenon of self-deception is not new; it is a recurring tragedy throughout biblical history. In the book of Jeremiah, we encounter "false prophets" who were not necessarily conscious frauds or mustache-twirling villains. Many of them genuinely believed they were hearing from God. They were not intentionally lying to the people; they were deceived by their own hearts.

Jeremiah captures this terrifying reality when God speaks through him: "I have heard what the prophets have said who prophesy lies in my name, saying, 'I have dreamed, I have dreamed!' ... How long shall there be lies in the heart of the prophets who prophesy lies, and who prophesy the deceit of their own heart?" (Jeremiah 23:25-26, ESV). These individuals took their own internal "feelings," subjective "visions," and "spiritual messages" and baptized them as the Word of the Lord. They were the first to believe their own deceptions, mistaking their personal wishes for divine whispers.

 

The Loss of Humility

Perhaps the most sobering part of St. John's analysis is his observation about humility. Those who become attached to extraordinary spiritual experiences "lose humility, at least." They begin to think their experiences make them special, that God is giving them prominence. This is precisely the opposite of what genuine encounters with the divine produce.

Consider Moses, who after speaking with God face-to-face, was "very meek, more than all people who were on the face of the earth" (Numbers 12:3, ESV). Or Isaiah, who upon seeing the Lord declared, "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips" (Isaiah 6:5, ESV). True encounters with the divine produce humility, not spiritual superiority.

The friend who believes she should start a new church because all others are in error exemplifies this loss of humility. The assumption that she alone has received the truth while established communities of believers are all mistaken reveals a dangerous spiritual pride. As St. Augustine wisely observed, "If you believe what you like in the gospels, and reject what you don't like, it is not the gospel you believe, but yourself" (Contra Faustum 17.3).

 

The Devil's Secret Work

St. John's most chilling observation is that "the devil then secretly augments this feeling." The word "secretly" is crucial here. The individuals involved are usually completely unaware that their spiritual pride is being fostered by the enemy of souls. They genuinely believe they are following God's will while actually being led astray by their own ego, inflated by demonic suggestion.

This doesn't mean everyone who claims divine guidance is under demonic influence. Rather, it highlights how subtle spiritual deception can be. The devil doesn't usually appear with horns and a pitchfork; he comes disguised as an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14). He takes our genuine desire for God and twists it slightly, just enough to lead us off the narrow path.

 

Biblical Tests for Spiritual Discernment

Scripture provides clear criteria for testing spiritual experiences. The apostle John warns, "Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God" (1 John 4:1, ESV). How do we conduct such testing?

First, does the supposed revelation align with Scripture and accepted Church teaching? God does not contradict himself. Any "word from the Lord" that contradicts the written Word of God is immediately suspect. The Bereans were commended because they "examined the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so" (Acts 17:11, ESV).

Second, does it produce the fruit of the Spirit? "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control" (Galatians 5:22-23, ESV). If someone's supposed divine guidance leads them to division, pride, or contempt for others, it's unlikely to be from the Holy Spirit.

Third, does it respect the wisdom of the community? The Book of Proverbs repeatedly emphasizes the importance of counsel: "Where there is no guidance, a people falls, but in an abundance of counselors there is safety" (Proverbs 11:14, ESV).

The individualistic notion that "God told me" trumps all community wisdom is foreign to biblical spirituality.

 

Holy Simplicity and Spiritual Solitude

St. John concludes by noting that thoughts comparing one's spiritual experiences to others are "contrary to holy simplicity and spiritual solitude." Holy simplicity doesn't mean being simple-minded; it means having a single-hearted devotion to God that doesn't get caught up in spiritual competitiveness. Spiritual solitude doesn't mean isolation from community; it means finding one's identity in God alone rather than in extraordinary experiences.

The early church father John Cassian wrote extensively about the danger of spiritual pride arising from extraordinary experiences. In his second Conference, he recounts stories of monks who, lacking the "eye of discretion," were led into literal destruction by following their own internal "revelations." He warns that without the humility to submit our feelings to the counsel of others, we are easily misled:

"For often it has been proved that what the Apostle says really takes place: 'For Satan himself transforms himself into an angel of light' (2 Cor. 11:14), so that he deceitfully sheds abroad a confusing and foul obscuration of the thoughts instead of the true light of knowledge. And unless these thoughts are received in a humble and gentle heart... we shall be sure to venerate in our thoughts an angel of darkness instead of an angel of light." (Conferences, 2.11)

The remedy, he insisted, was to focus on the ordinary means of grace—prayer, Scripture, and the wisdom of the community—maintaining that "neither of us should trust to his own judgments more than his brother's, if he wanted never to be deceived by the craft of the devil" (Conferences, 2.10). In other words, "The Spirit told me to" is not sufficient, for many spirits can speak, including our own, telling us what we want to hear, whatever scratches our itch, or strokes our pride. We must submit all such "leadings" to the wisdom of others, to a wisdom of people likewise proven in their discernment and abundant in the virtues and spiritual fruits detailed above. In other words, we must do more than submit out "leadings" to someone who will tell us what we want to hear. We must have friends who are good enough friends to tell us when we're wrong.

It is far easier to discern spiritual fruit in others than in ourselves. The arrogant man might think himself more humble than anyone. The greedy man might believe he's actually gracious. We tend to the blind to our own faults, and more perceptive in the virtues and vices of others. Thus, we do better to heed the counsel of a spiritual authority we've chosen to submit to when discerning such matters than if we try to discern the truth of such "voices" or "visions" for ourselves. Even better, we should choose spiritual directors who've been widely recognized by others, by the authority of the Church, and have a track record of leading people in a spiritually fruitful direction.

 

Practical Applications

So how do we apply these insights to our daily spiritual lives?

Cultivate a healthy skepticism toward extraordinary claims. This doesn't mean becoming cynical or denying that God can and does work miraculously. Rather, it means not being quickly impressed by sensational spiritual claims. As Jesus said, "An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign" (Matthew 12:39, ESV).

Value ordinary faithfulness over extraordinary experiences. The person who faithfully serves in obscurity may be far more spiritually advanced than the one claiming dramatic revelations. Mother Teresa spent decades in spiritual darkness, feeling abandoned by God, yet continued serving. This hidden faithfulness is often more precious to God than spectacular spiritual experiences.

Submit all spiritual experiences to wise counsel. If you believe God is leading you in a particular direction, especially if it involves major life decisions or affects others, seek input from mature believers. Be especially cautious if multiple wise counselors express concerns about your plans.

Watch for the fruits of humility. Genuine spiritual experiences should make us more humble, not less. They should increase our love for others, not our sense of superiority. They should draw us deeper into community, not lead us to separate ourselves as spiritually elite.

Ground yourself in Scripture and tradition. The Bible and the wisdom of those who have gone before us provide guardrails for our spiritual journey. When someone claims a new revelation that contradicts centuries of Christian wisdom, it's almost certainly not from God.

The desire to hear directly from God is natural and good. God does speak to his people through his Spirit. But in our eagerness for divine communication, we must not abandon the wisdom St. John of the Cross offers. The path of authentic spirituality leads through humility, community, and careful discernment, not through spectacular experiences that set us apart from or above others.

Perhaps the most important question to ask when someone—including ourselves—claims divine guidance is not "Did God really say this?" but rather "What fruit is this producing?" If it leads to humility, love, unity, and growth in virtue, it may well be from God. If it produces pride, division, contempt for others, or departure from biblical wisdom, we should be very cautious indeed.

In the end, the mark of authentic spirituality is not the extraordinariness of our experiences but the ordinary virtues they produce: faith, hope, and above all, love. As St. Paul reminds us, we may have all manner of spiritual gifts and experiences, but without love, we are nothing (1 Corinthians 13:2). This is the true test of whether the Spirit has spoken: not the volume of the voice we heard, but the love it produces in our hearts.