But What If I Screw It Up? A Discernment Horror Story
By: Lucy Fernandes
If you were anything like me at age 17, you’d be scandalized (or at the very least, alarmed), at the idea of kissing your ex in the rain during a self-proclaimed “boundaries talk.” But after three tumultuous college relationships, and after swearing that I would never date this man again, this was the position I found myself in—with the man I will be marrying next summer.
How did I get myself into this position, you might ask? And Lucy, why on earth do you think you should be giving advice on dating to anyone else, especially about discernment? The short answer is that I don’t. But if I had a time machine and could visit that sweet little girl who so desperately wanted to do the Lord’s Will, there are a couple things I’d want to tell her. So that’s why I’m writing. At Hillsdale, there is a guilt-ridden culture of dating and discernment, a culture that is born from the fundamentally good desire to date intentionally. But this paralyzing guilt needs to end. So, my tale is a cautionary one, though perhaps in an unexpected way.
Discernment is a loaded word. In many Christian circles, it can, intentionally or not, be treated synonymously to the concept of destiny. “God,” St. John Henry Newman writes, “has created me to do some definite service; He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another.” I have loved this passage for a long time. Ideally, such a concept, that God has individually chosen a particular mission for our life, should be a freeing one. But instead, it can often become a great source of anxiety and idealism. At least, this was (and often still is!) the case for me.
When I was 17, I had never dated anyone. But I knew I was ready for marriage. As silly as this sounds, in retrospect, I believed it. I was open to God’s will. I prayed. I wanted to be married. Now, I just had to open myself to His Will, and surely I was holy enough that I wouldn’t miss it. He’d be sending me a hunky man who also happened to love poetry and star-gazing before I could say “Thy-will-be-done!”
One night my senior year of high school, I vowed to myself that I would never make a mistake in dating. “I will do this the right way,” I told myself aloud. “I will discern properly, and I will never hurt anyone else in the process.” It seemed to be a sacred promise between myself and the Lord. In my heart, “God is with her and she will not fail” became “she has holy desire and so she will not make mistakes.” I gave myself the illusion of control, and it was comforting.
I can only look at my college dating history and laugh, because it is just one long string of mistakes, imprudences, and as a favorite singer would say, “poorly-timed kisses.” What strikes me more than any of these mistakes, however, is how long this perfectionistic discernment stayed with me—all the way into my senior year at Hillsdale.
I have many times hyper-spiritualized dating. I have treated God’s will like the will-o-wisps that Merida follows in Brave rather than the continual presence of the One who knows me, and wants my deepest desires for me, precisely because He is the one who put them there.
That now-infamous night of senior year, I had sat down at the table with two dear friends in much the spirit of my 17-year-old vow. I was about to friend-zone the heck out of this boy. I invoked the Holy Spirit, practiced my “break-up” script, and marched outside with a clear certainty that I was about to draw the strictest and most selfless and holy boundaries Christendom had ever seen!
Needless to say, the next two hours absolutely shattered my image of myself as a perfectly holy discernment rockstar. The boundaries talk ended with tears and some surprise kissing and then some angry yelling and laughter and general confusion and the walk of shame back to my housemates. A year later, and this man is the love of my life.
Let me say that I am in no way condoning my behavior. My relationship could have started in a more prudent way. If I could go back and redo that night, I would, and that night was certainly not without consequences for us later. But even in that confusing, hilarious, horrifying, puke-inducing, totally romantic yet idiotic moment, I was struck by the feeling that God was laughing at me. See? He seemed to say, and you thought you had it all together. Like an unglamorous fairy tale, the spell was broken—I realized that no action of mine could make me earn or lose God’s Will for my life.
My most crucial error has been a failure to realize that perfection is not a prerequisite for doing the Lord’s Will. It is precisely through our mistakes, imperfections, or just plain old stupidity that God makes His Will known to us. Dear friend, you learn to date by dating. You learn to discern by making mistakes, not by obtaining metaphysical or mathematical certainty. The Lord holds all things in His Hands for you. And even if you are actively running the other direction, you cannot miss His Will. You simply are not strong enough. What a relief that is!
St. John Henry Newman ends his reflection on discernment with a litany of situations in which we must turn ourselves, in all circumstances and in all confusion, over to the mercy of God. No situation is too complex or too fallen for Him to redeem: “Whatever, wherever I am, I can never be thrown away. If I am in sickness, my sickness may serve Him; in perplexity, my perplexity may serve Him; if I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve Him. My sickness, or perplexity, or sorrow may be necessary causes of some great end, which is quite beyond us. He does nothing in vain; He may prolong my life, He may shorten it; He knows what He is about. He may make me feel desolate, make my spirits sink, hide the future from me—still He knows what He is about.”
So, in a college environment that seeks intentional dating, resist the urge to seek the one right way, the one perfect path to happiness; because it does not exist. Amidst the endless list of Christian influencers who offer endless lists of “advice they followed to find their husband”: take a breath. Hold firm to the conviction that He can handle your mistakes. Discernment is not perfection or endless caution. It is not flawless meditation or painstaking calculation. It is action, action that will be invariably directed by the hand of an ever-present and intimately loving God. Discernment consists of throwing yourself upon His Mercy, and knowing that you can’t mess up his plan. Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s perfect. He knows what He is about.
Lucy Fernandes | ‘24
Lucy is a Midwestern girl in Texas, working on her Ph.D. In English literature. She lives with her lord and liege (a cat named Claude) and an ever-growing collection of plants (that she can never keep alive). Lucy loves exploring old churches, haunting used bookstores, and “wasting” time with people who make her laugh.
