(A Musing on Knowing, Understanding, and the Rhythm of Awareness)
I used to think discernment was about knowing what to do —
the next job, the next path, the next right answer.
But the longer I’ve listened, the more I’ve found that vocation isn’t a test of knowledge.
It’s an invitation to bring knowing and understanding closer together.
Because calling isn’t always what you can explain.
Sometimes it’s what you can only feel —
a truth you understand long before you know how to name it.
I. The Two Movements of Mind
Every soul lives in two directions.
One moves inward to know.
The other expands outward to understand.
Knowing is micro — it defines, measures, secures.
Understanding is macro — it connects, contextualizes, and holds.
Knowing is how light becomes language.
Understanding is how language becomes light again.
One descends into detail; the other ascends into meaning.
Both are sacred.
But when we confuse one for the other, our wisdom fractures.
II. The Paradox of Half-Light
I’ve met people who know everything about God but understand nothing of grace.
And others who understand the mystery of grace but couldn’t name a single verse.
To know without understanding is to grasp the parts without perceiving the whole —
clarity without compassion, doctrine without devotion.
To understand without knowing is to behold the whole without holding its shape —
awe without articulation, spirit without structure.
Each is a half-light, incomplete without the other.
Together they form what the ancients called wisdom —
a light that both sees and warms.
III. The Descent Into Embodiment
I feel this tension in my own body.
When I sit with my children, I understand love without knowing how to teach it.
When I’m at work, I know exactly what to do but not always why it matters.
And in discernment, both movements collide — the pull to analyze and the call to trust.
This is the rhythm of the soul:
understanding descends into knowing so that intuition becomes incarnation,
and knowing rises back into understanding so that intellect remembers its heart.
The micro being builds.
The macro being beholds.
One gathers the stones; the other reveals the temple.
Creation needs both.
IV. The Return to Wisdom
This, too, is the rhythm of God’s own act.
Light spoke the world into being — knowing.
Then called it good — understanding.
To know without clinging.
To understand without drifting.
To live as both builder and beholder —
this is what it means to be made in the image of divine awareness.
Mary treasured these things and pondered them in her heart.
The Tao whispers: Those who know do not speak.
Rumi adds: Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.
And maybe Christ simply lived the union itself —
word made flesh, understanding made human.
V. The Space Between
So I practice moving between them —
knowing and understanding —
the way breath moves between inhale and exhale.
Not to master either,
but to remember that life itself is the space between.
Knowing shows us what is.
Understanding reveals why it matters.
But wisdom breathes between them —
the quiet where love becomes real.