Learning Discernment from Two Plants and an Unlikely Saint

Spiritual Wisdom for Resisting Narcissism

Oct 31, 2024

Roaming the sidewalks of my apartment complex in early childhood, I would reach up and gently tug at the delicate orange bells of a honeysuckle flower and sip the sweet nectar drop by drop. The honeysuckle vines reached over fences, inviting me and the other neighborhood kids to sample their natural flavor between bike rides and slip ‘n’ slide fun in the grassy alley behind our yards.

Recently, while walking in my town, I spotted another plant draped over a fence. Its reddish-orange, trumpet-shaped flowers brought me back to those carefree childhood days. Instinctively, I reached for it, expecting that same sweet taste. But when I pulled the flower from the vine, no nectar appeared. It was dry and hollow.

Curious, I took a photo and identified the plant through an app. As the results came up, I learned this wasn’t the native honeysuckle I had assumed it to be—it was campsis radicans, the trumpet creeper. This plant isn’t sweet. It’s toxic and invasive. Commonly known as cow’s itch, the USDA says “contact with the leaves and flowers of trumpet creeper results in skin redness and swelling among mammals. It is also slightly toxic if ingested.” Even its roots are aggressive enough to destabilize foundations if left unchecked.

Reflecting on my mix up, I thought of those people who, like the trumpet creeper, seem fascinating and caring at first, only to reveal an underlying self-centeredness or destructiveness once we allow them space in our lives. I’ve observed this invasiveness in dysfunctional churches, workplaces, families and marriages, and political movements. Many times I’ve wondered whether our difficult experiences could have been avoided or shortened if we had fully respected our intuition and the information available to us.

Early impressions are not something to ignore. From a young age, I experienced moments where something within me sensed a deeper reality. Around age four, I recall watching my first pastor, a man greatly admired for his intelligence and charisma, kneel down to speak with another preschooler next to me. An oil portrait of his face hung prominently on the entry wall behind him. To others, his sing-songy tone may have seemed fun and gentle, but I felt an odd dissonance, a sense that something under the surface wasn’t right in this leader. I couldn’t articulate my reservations then, but my internal alarm bells were sounding. Only years later did I learn how this man who proclaimed faith with such clarity from the pulpit led a life of unfaithfulness behind closed office doors, abandoning his wife for a woman he counseled and intimidating anyone who questioned him.

These inklings…were the beginning of discernment.

There was also a step-relative of mine, a glamorous woman who reveled in attention. At her parties, she sparkled and charmed the crowd, but to me something about her felt hollow. In time, her inner chaos emerged as she drank away my grandfather’s life insurance money, destroyed her liver, and caused significant harm in an accident. Those were just the things we knew for sure. Her issues would leave a legacy of manipulation and harm that reached into future generations. Twice the newspaper picked up on the strange and sad stories.

These inklings, though impossible to articulate at the time, were the beginning of discernment. Looking back, I see how small nudges of awareness, combined with later learning, trained me to listen closely to my instincts.

When I think of discernment, I’m reminded of St. Ignatius of Loyola’s journey. After a cannonball injury forced Ignatius off the battlefield into months of recovery and deep reflection, he discovered a notable difference in the state of his heart and mind as he envisioned two distinct futures. Picturing himself in pursuits tied to his old knightly life of vanity and self-gratification left him restless. In contrast, imagining a life devoted to God filled him with peace. After nine months of recovery, Ignatius hiked over a hundred hours from his family’s castle in Loyola, Spain, to the small chapel at Montserrat (a site I was privileged to visit more than twenty years ago: see photos below). There he spent the night in prayer before surrendering his dagger and sword and changing into simple clothes to symbolize his dedication to life with Christ.

Following his transformation, Ignatius encouraged others to listen deeply to the heart, cultivating awareness of moments of peace or unease. He taught that lasting peace, or consolation, is a sign of alignment with God’s purposes, while feelings of desolation, such as apathy or despair, indicate a need for caution and curiosity. Ignatius also warned against false consolation, things like excuses, feel-good addictions, or even religious compulsions that may initially feel exciting or beneficial but ultimately lead us away from true spiritual health. This is especially relevant when we’re dealing with individuals whose charm can mask narcissistic tendencies.

Just as the trumpet creeper’s leaf patterns and aggressive roots show us its invasive nature, people with toxic traits eventually reveal clues. While any of us may act out of self-interest at times, those with chronic narcissism live with an insatiable need for admiration and control at others’ expense. Over time, they may discard a friend when they get bored or when a person no longer feels useful to their agenda. They may act with a sense of entitlement, a tendency to belittle or compete, or an inability to tolerate differing viewpoints. When we allow self-centered or narcissistic tendencies to go unrestrained, we risk harm to relationships, organizations, and society.

In one church setting, a leader I worked with would use phrases like “You need to be for me” and “We’re in a season of alignment,” signaling by his tone and facial expression that a different perspective would be received as a threat and lead to exclusion. Attempts to address his tactics or express a concern about ministry direction were met with red-faced intimidation or calculated efforts to marginalize those who didn’t fit. The place we had joyfully volunteered for over a decade had become his domain. This experience underscored a need for boundaries, courage, and self-respect in the face of narcissistic behavior and the community anxiety it caused.

It’s not just narcissistic individuals who contribute to the dynamics. They often thrive because bystanders are unwilling or unable to see through the deception and speak into it. Ignatius’ work invites us to look not only outward at the people we encounter, but also inward at the attachments we hold. Identifying inner pulls like a craving for validation, a desperate need for belonging, or fear of conflict can help us understand why we might be susceptible to someone who lacks empathy or exerts control, and why we may continue in the status quo.

Over many months, I had to ask myself why I remained in a stress-inducing place where leadership was centered around ego rather than humble service and mutual flourishing. Maybe it had to do with misplaced hope. Maybe it had to do with losing my family’s sense of connectedness. Maybe it had to do with losing familiar avenues of ministry.

Discernment helps us surrender our desires, fears, or personal agendas to God and unleash ourselves from the power of toxic individuals.

Recognizing attachments like these allows us to release false dependencies and choose paths that foster true spiritual freedom. James 3:17 says, “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.” Ignatius encouraged an open-handed indifference as we seek God’s will. My family had to let go of valued friendships and volunteer roles and trust God to sustain us through many disorienting and lonely months. Discernment helps us surrender our desires, fears, or personal agendas to God and unleash ourselves from the power of toxic individuals.

One of the hardest pieces of discernment is knowing what is ours to address. Ignatius encouraged us to test the spirits and choose what leads to greater love of God and neighbor. Our focus should be on what draws us closer to God’s peace, even if it means creating distance from those we once hoped would contribute to a healthy atmosphere.

Lasting change requires deep self-awareness, something that toxic personalities generally lack. Not all will respond with self-reflection the way Ignatius did when he was injured. Accepting this reality frees us from the burden of trying to change a dysfunctional person even if we know we must resist their influence or address wrongs.

Jesus’ words provide a strong foundation when it comes to interacting with difficult people. As Jesus sent his apprentices to various villages to share his countercultural good news, he cautioned them, “Listen: I am sending you out to be sheep among wolves. You must be as shrewd as serpents and as innocent as doves. You must be careful. You must be discerning. You must be on your guard.” He encouraged these messengers to let their blessing rest on people of peace but to withhold it from those who proved untrustworthy or unwelcoming (Matthew 10:11-17 VOICE).

Discernment plays a vital role in how we engage in our relationships, serve our communities, and even make informed choices at the polls. Being shrewd may mean recognizing when someone’s charm is a facade, while being innocent invites us to respond with principled maturity rather than retaliation. When I encounter people who deal in lies and chaos, who elevate themselves and demean others, who use the name of Jesus to boost their vanity and campaigns for power, I know that I owe them no support except my prayers for transformation and my acknowledgment of their general human worth. And those things can be offered from a distance.

With devoted prayer and conversations with my husband, wise friends, and experts, I grew in clarity and courage that led me to address various types of mistreatment I witnessed and experienced in the church. I knew I couldn’t continue to be part of a community that maligned or dismissed people, no matter what it promised me.

Not surprisingly, after speaking up for others, my husband and I faced intense backlash. Some whose plans or image felt threatened resorted to maligning and scapegoating me. This brought me grief, yet it also brought an increasing sense of freedom as I saw at an even deeper level the dysfunctional patterns at play. As I leaned into God’s tenderness and embraced a holy indifference about outcomes, I realized that something in me had shifted. I no longer needed their acceptance, their friendship, or even their apology. The only thing I really needed was to exit their place of influence. I knew I had done my best there. While I was committed to saying hello and being cordial with whoever would cross my path in the future, my focus had to turn toward recovering in a healthier community.

God’s will doesn’t call for entanglement with or support of people who elevate themselves at the expense of a community’s peace and joy. In Philippians 1:9-10, Paul wrote, “And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent….” In rhyme with these verses, St. Ignatius’ approach reminds us to base our discernment in God’s enduring love and peace. Discernment isn’t merely about avoiding harm. It’s also about cultivating what is good.

Life is meant to be savored, not just survived. Beautiful and beneficial relationships are out there to be nurtured and enjoyed. Through prayer, self-reflection, and an understanding of healthy vs. harmful patterns, we can discern what truly belongs in our lives and what is best uprooted or pruned.

Reflect back on a time when you sensed something was amiss. Did you respect your early impression or dismiss it? How did you decide whether to see things through or move toward a different path? Which discernment questions will you carry with you going forward?

VERDANT

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