A while back, I met with “Leslie” for spiritual direction.
She was a pastor, and very smart (she had a PhD). As she told her story it was clear she had a deep, well-developed spiritual life. It wasn’t long before my inner monologue started churning: “I’m so impressed with her! What do I have to offer her! What can I say to be helpful?”
Joining someone in their spiritual struggles—especially someone who seems wiser or more seasoned than we are—can feel daunting.
Spiritual guidance asks us to do something remarkable and rare: to accompany another human being into their questions, longings, pain, and possibility. And truth be told, it’s hard work to do well.
It’s a bit like riding a bike while patting your stomach and tracing a figure-eight with your toes. It requires an orchestration of many skills at once: deep listening, intuitive sensing, crafting questions, offering reflections, and drawing from reservoirs of psychological and spiritual understanding.
To say the obvious, it takes a unique and sophisticated skill set to join and guide others spirituality.
And yet—if we truly want to be effective—we have to be willing to set that skill set aside.
The Great Misconception
The #1 misconception about spiritual guidance work is that our skills are the differentiator between what is effective and not-so-effective. The subtle lie we often believe is that our expertise, education, or cleverness will produce transformation.
But here’s the deeper truth:
Heart-knowing always outshines intelligence. Being always surpasses doing.
Skills matter. Knowledge matters. Technique matters. They create safety, rapport, and a container that allows clients to open. But they are not the source of transformation.
The real channel of healing is our presence—the quiet wisdom of our heart, our groundedness, our openness, our willingness to be human.
A Moment With Leslie
After she shared many impressive things about her life, I mentally churned and went rummaging around in my bag of skills. I realized I had nothing “impressive” to offer Leslie.
So I reached into the only thing left—my own sincerity.
And I said, “I’m really struck by the depth of your knowledge and your spirituality. And honestly…I’m not sure how I can be helpful to you.”
It was awkward. Tender. Human.
We sat in a silence that felt half uncomfortable, half holy.
And then it happened. Leslie’s chin began to quiver. Their eyes filled. Into that fragile space they spoke the truth they hadn’t dared to touch: they hated their job. They didn’t know what they believed anymore. They felt lost.
That was something we could explore.
The doorway opened not because I was clever, or insightful, or polished.
It opened because I was real.
The Channels of Spirit
Listening to your heart. Trusting your gut. Following a hunch. Speaking from vulnerability. Allowing your own wounds to inform your compassion.
These are not liabilities in spiritual direction—they are sacred tools.
They are pathways through which the Spirit moves, touching the deep, tender places that technique alone cannot reach.
There is always fertile ground beneath the surface-layer brilliance of clients like Leslie. And that same fertile ground lives in every person who sits with us.
When we dare to follow our being rather than our role, we inevitably find our way there.