B2032-1 Discernment

What is discernment that I should stare into the mouth of its cave and wonder at its pitch darkness? Who am I to rave that I have seen the bright and amber hues that glisten from the frozen stones that drip from the percolated waters of the karsted peneplain? Do I see and understand that the spires and lace that adorn that place are more than just a jumble of stones that happen to enthrone the carved channel of its marls and dolomites? Is it possible for me to see in this the hand of God sculpting and turning the mass of stones into the faint image of His glory? Or am I just content to taste the weak carbonic acid withering the gullet of the cavern and to watch the deposition of the stones in the sullen dripping of the waters?

Why is it that I never seem to see discernment as anything more than just a pretty bump on a smooth and barren plain: a monadnock of applied wisdom rising above the dreary expanse of insensibility? Why is it that I fully expect to see such discernment in full bloom in others while I am content to dwell in the gloom of stubborn ignorance myself? Even though I am aware that I often fail to perceive the bold outlines of the kingdom of God and, instead, choose what is most certainly less than good, I have not the practical sense to pray that God will give me the wisdom to find my way. Somehow, discernment in my eyes appears as glitter and sheen that is to be found in the learned and keen who have been gifted by God to know exactly where to strike the blow that shatters the hard sediments of indifference.