How Can You Tell If an Inspiration Comes from God?

Before asking how to discern, we must understand why it is necessary. Many think that an interior motion is, by nature, suspect (rationalism) or, conversely, that a strong feeling is necessarily divine (illuminism). Scripture rejects both: it commands us to take inspirations seriously and to sift them.

A Command of Scripture, Not an Option

The New Testament does not leave believers at the mercy of their impressions. It lays down a twofold imperative: despise nothing, but verify everything.

"Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are of God; for many false prophets have gone out into the world." — First Letter of Saint John, 4:1^[1]

Saint Paul gives the same rule, balancing it so that it does not become sterile mistrust:

"Do not quench the Spirit, do not despise prophesying, but test everything; hold fast what is good." — First Letter to the Thessalonians, 5:19-21^[2]

Discerning is therefore not a luxury for anxious spiritual souls: it is obedience. Christians must remain open ("do not quench the Spirit") while remaining vigilant ("test everything"). That is exactly the posture of an adult heart in the faith. The discernment of spirits figures, moreover, in the list of gifts Saint Paul enumerates for the building up of the Church: to one is given "the ability to distinguish between spirits" (1 Cor 12:10)^[3].

Three Sources of One and the Same Interior Thought

Why can an inspiration deceive? Because a thought that presents itself to us does not always have the same origin. Saint Ignatius of Loyola, in his Spiritual Exercises, draws a distinction of great psychological clarity:

"I take it for granted that there are in me three kinds of thoughts: one which is strictly my own, proceeding solely from my own liberty and will; and two others coming from without, one from the good spirit and the other from the evil." — Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, no. 32^[4]

An inspiration can therefore come from me (my temperament, my desires, my fears, my imagination), from the good spirit (God, His angels, His grace), or from the evil spirit (the tempter who knows how to imitate the good). The practical problem is that these three voices carry no label: they mingle, and the most dangerous is precisely the one that disguises itself as light. Hence the need for criteria outside of feeling.

What This Article Discerns — and What It Does Not Cover

One confusion must be cleared away at the outset. Discerning an ordinary inspiration ("should I take on this commitment? does this thought come from God?") is not the same thing as judging a private revelation, an apparition, or an extraordinary phenomenon, which fall under the Church's authority and her own criteria. The present article deals with the interior government of the Christian life: the motions, desires, and ideas that orient our concrete choices. For the rest, we refer readers to the dedicated articles. One preliminary rule holds for all the rest: spiritual discernment never replaces the moral law; it comes in after it, to choose between a good and a better, never to authorize an evil^[5].

The first filter is also the simplest, and it often spares us all the rest: what does the inspiration ask? God cannot contradict Himself. He will never breathe a thought opposed to what He has already revealed in Scripture, the commandments, the Church's teaching, and the concrete duties of our state in life.

No Inspiration Contradicts Faith or Duty

A motion that pushes us to transgress a commandment, to despise a duty of state (a father who would abandon his family in order to "devote himself to God"), to disobey the Church's legitimate authority without reason, or to feed pride, does not come from God, whatever fervor is felt. The Catechism recalls that even the most extraordinary charisms must submit to this check:

"No charism is exempt from being referred and submitted to the Church's shepherds. […] so that all the diverse and complementary charisms work together for the common good." — Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 801^[6]

It is a formidably effective criterion: it eliminates at a stroke a large share of false inspirations, which almost always flatter the self or justify shirking under airs of generosity.

Saint Francis de Sales: God's "Signified Will"

Saint Francis de Sales gave this first criterion its most luminous expression. Before any particular inspiration, God has already manifested His will to us — through His doctrine, His commandments, His counsels. The holy bishop calls this the "signified will":

"God makes known to us, by the aforementioned ways, what He wants us to believe, what we must hope for, what we must fear, what He wants us to love, the commandments He wants us to keep, and the counsels He desires us to follow. And all this is called the signified will of God, because He has signified and manifested to us that He wills and intends all this to be believed, hoped for, feared, loved, and practiced." — Saint Francis de Sales, Treatise on the Love of God, Book VIII, ch. 3^[7]

Every new inspiration must therefore be measured against this already-known will. And Francis de Sales notes a decisive characteristic of the way God inspires: He proposes; He never forces. His signified will "proceeds by way of desire, and not by way of absolute will"^[8]: God "solicits us, exhorts, urges, inspires, helps and assists us"^[9], like a host who prepares a feast and invites — not like one who would force a friend's mouth open. This gentleness, respectful of freedom, is already, as we shall see, a signature.

Right Conscience and Submission to the Church

The place where this first discernment operates is conscience — not feeling, but the practical judgment of reason enlightened by faith. The Catechism defines it as "a judgment of reason by which the human person recognizes the moral quality of a concrete act"^[10]. A sound conscience does not invent its own criteria: it is formed in the school of God's Word, the Catechism, and the Magisterium. An authentic inspiration always leads to greater conformity with the truth received, never to a private exemption from obeying. That is why the first question to ask before any motion is not "do I feel it strongly?" but "is it in conformity with what God has already clearly willed?".

If content alone does not settle the matter — because the inspiration concerns a real good (praying more, committing oneself, fasting) — Christ Himself gives us the next decisive criterion: not the root, invisible, but the fruit, observable.

The Criterion Given by Christ

The teaching of Jesus is unambiguous: a tree is not judged by its appearance, but by what it produces.

"You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? So, every sound tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears evil fruit." — Gospel according to Saint Matthew, 7:16-17^[11]

Applied to inspirations, this principle is most reliable: a motion that comes from God produces, in time, God's fruits; a motion that comes from the enemy or from self-love ends by producing its own fruits, even if it presented itself under a fine mask.

Saint Paul's List: The Spirit's Signature

Saint Paul supplies the exact inventory of these fruits, set term by term against the "works of the flesh":

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control." — Letter to the Galatians, 5:22-23^[12]

The Catechism makes them directly a criterion of discernment: these fruits are "perfections that the Holy Spirit forms in us as the first fruits of eternal glory"^[13]. Where an inspiration lastingly increases love, peace, humility, gentleness, and self-mastery, we may recognize the mark of the Spirit. Where it leaves, once enthusiasm has subsided, agitation, harshness, pride, and division, we may suspect another origin — whatever the beauty of the initial feeling.

Peace and Humility: The Two Most Revealing Fruits

Among all these fruits, two are, in the masters' experience, particularly diagnostic. The first is deep peace — not excitement, but a stable tranquility that remains even when the inspiration is demanding. The second is humility: a true inspiration from God makes us smaller, more dependent, gentler with others. The false inspiration, on the other hand, imperceptibly inflates the self — it makes me singular, impatient with those who do not understand me, secretly superior. The Holy Virgin, at the announcement of the greatest vocation in history, answers with the Magnificat: her inspiration turns her toward service (the Visitation), not toward herself. That is the Spirit's constant trajectory: He de-centers.

Table: Recognizing the Signature of the Two Spirits

The following table sums up, following Saint Paul (Gal 5) and Saint Ignatius's rules (Exercises, nos. 314-317), the opposing signs that usually accompany an inspiration according to its origin. It describes lasting tendencies, not snapshots: a good decision may cost at first, and a bad one may charm for a moment.

How to read this table: no single sign taken in isolation is enough; it is their lasting convergence that guides judgment. An inspiration that unites peace, humility, gentleness, and freedom bears God's mark; an inspiration that unites agitation, exaltation, hurry, and secrecy must be held suspect, however beautiful it appears.

Saint Ignatius of Loyola (1491-1556) took the analysis further than anyone. Instead of judging only content and fruits, he observes the manner in which a motion works upon us: its affective climate, its direction, the moment it occurs. This is tradition's finest contribution to the discernment of inspirations.

The Two Great Interior States: Consolation and Desolation

Ignatius distinguishes two great movements of the soul. Spiritual consolation is everything that turns us toward God and unites us to Him:

"I call it consolation when some interior motion is produced in the soul, through which it comes to be inflamed with love of its Creator and Lord […]. Finally, I call consolation every increase of hope, faith, and charity, and all interior joy that calls and attracts to heavenly things and to the salvation of one's soul, quieting it and giving it peace in its Creator and Lord." — Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, no. 316^[14]

Spiritual desolation is exactly the reverse — not mere psychological sadness, but a state that draws us away from God:

"I call desolation all the contrary of the third rule. Such as darkness of soul, disturbance in it, movement to things low and earthly, the unquiet of different agitations and temptations, moving to want of confidence; without hope, without love, when the soul finds itself all lazy, tepid, sad, and as if separated from its Creator and Lord." — Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, no. 317^[15]

Discerning consists largely in recognizing in which state we are when an inspiration arises — for that state sheds light on its probable origin.

The Golden Rule: Never Decide in Desolation

From this analysis flows the most precious practical rule — the one that has prevented countless life mistakes. An inspiration to change arising in the midst of desolation is suspect on principle, for "in desolation it is the evil spirit that guides and counsels us":

"In time of desolation never to make a change, but to be firm and constant in the resolutions and determination in which one was the day preceding such desolation, or in the determination in which he was setting himself at the time of consolation. For as in consolation it is rather the good spirit who guides and counsels us, so in desolation it is the evil, with whose counsels we cannot take a course to decide rightly." — Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, no. 318^[16]

Concretely: it is not because we have just been wounded, failed, or felt abandoned that we must leave everything behind. Important decisions are made in peace, never in the night. In desolation, Ignatius counsels, on the contrary, to intensify prayer, self-examination, and penance, and to hold fast — for desolation passes, and God, in permitting it, may will to test our fidelity or to teach us that consolation is a pure gift^[17].

Direction Matters: Are We Going Up or Down?

Ignatius adds a subtle observation: the same spirit does not act in the same way depending on a person's deep orientation. In one who sinks into evil, the evil spirit flatters and lulls, while the good spirit "pricks and bites the conscience"^[18]. In one who progresses toward the good, it is the reverse:

"In persons who are going on intensely cleansing their sins and rising from good to better in the service of God our Lord, it is the method contrary to that in the first Rule. For then it is the way of the evil spirit to bite, sadden and put obstacles, disquieting with false reasons, that one may not go on; and it is proper to the good to give courage and strength, consolations, tears, inspirations and quiet, easing, and putting away all obstacles, that one may go on in well doing." — Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, no. 315^[19]

Hence a most enlightening question for discernment: does this thought push me forward in the good I had undertaken, giving me courage and peace — or does it seek to stop me, to discourage me, to make me doubt what God had clearly asked of me? The insidious discouragement that brakes a good already begun is often, in a soul of good will, the work of the evil spirit.

There remains the hardest case, the one that defeats naive discernments: the inspiration that asks nothing bad, that is even accompanied by gentleness, and yet does not come from God. It is the tempter's masterpiece, and tradition has named it after Saint Paul.

The Angel of Light (2 Cor 11:14)

Saint Paul warns that the enemy knows how to imitate light:

"And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light." — Second Letter to the Corinthians, 11:14^[20]

Saint Ignatius draws from this a rule of remarkable finesse: the evil spirit, with a soul advancing toward God, never presents itself head-on. It enters through the door of good.

"It is proper to the evil Angel, who forms himself under the appearance of an Angel of light, to enter with the devout soul and leave with himself. That is to say, to bring good and holy thoughts, conformable to such just soul, and then little by little to try to get him to leave, drawing the soul to his covert deceits and perverse intentions." — Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, no. 332^[21]

That is why an inspiration can be good at the start and evil on arrival: we begin with a holy zeal, and we end in exhaustion, contempt for others, proud singularity, or imprudence that destroys.

Examining the Beginning, Middle, and End of Thoughts

Ignatius's remedy is not to judge an inspiration by its beginning alone, but to examine its whole trajectory:

"We must examine with great care the whole course of our thoughts. If the beginning, middle and end is all good, inclined to all good, it is a sign of the good Angel; but if in the course of the thoughts which are suggested, it ends in something bad, of a distracting tendency, or less good than what we had previously proposed to do, or if these thoughts enfeeble our soul, disquiet it, disturb it […], it is a clear sign that they proceed from the evil spirit." — Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, no. 333^[22]

The end betrays the origin. An inspiration which, as it matures, results in something less good, which scatters, or which takes away the peace we had at the start, thereby reveals its source. Ignatius calls this recognizing the enemy "by his serpent's tail": once this procedure is unmasked, it is useful to re-read the whole thread of the inspiration so as to learn to foil next time these "ordinary artifices of the enemy"^[23].

The Typical Case: The Good Thing Pushed to Excess

The most frequent application of this rule is excess disguised as generosity. The inspiration does not say "do evil," but "do more, do better, do everything, right now" — to the point of ruining one's health, one's duties, one's charity. The saint who fasts until he can no longer pray, the apostle who exhausts himself until he grows harsh, the penitent who multiplies mortifications to the point of secret vanity: all have followed an inspiration good at its beginning but diverted by the enemy toward an end that destroys. The criterion of moderation and of the duty of state is decisive here: an inspiration that would make me neglect what God has already clearly entrusted to me is not from Him.

Beyond the great rules, spiritual wisdom has drawn a few very simple safeguards, accessible to all, which suffice in the vast majority of cases.

Peace, Arbiter of the Heart

The first safeguard is peace. Saint Paul makes it the arbiter that must decide in the heart:

"And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body." — Letter to the Colossians, 3:15^[24]

The Greek verb used (brabeuetō) evokes the umpire who awards the prize: deep peace must arbitrate our motions. God reveals Himself, moreover, before Elijah, not in the hurricane, the earthquake, or the fire, but in "a still small voice" (1 Kgs 19:11-13)^[25]. This discretion is a signature: the Holy Spirit touches the bottom of the heart in gentleness, not in uproar. An inspiration that does not leave peace — even at the cost of effort — deserves to be waited upon.

Time: Nothing Is Urgent in God

The second safeguard is time. A constant characteristic of the evil spirit is hurry: "decide now, or you will miss the grace." Yet an inspiration from God bears delay, prayer, and counsel; it is not afraid to wait, for what comes from God holds. The masters' practical rule is clear: never make an important decision in emotional urgency. The mere fact of deferring, praying, and talking about it often suffices to dispel a false obviousness and let the true one emerge.

Openness to a Guide: What Secrecy Betrays

The third safeguard, perhaps the most effective, is opening one's heart to a confessor or spiritual companion. Saint Ignatius observes that the enemy, like a seducer, dreads above all being discovered:

"When the enemy of human nature wishes to deceive a just soul with his wiles and devices, he desires and wants her to listen to him and keep the secret. But if she reveals everything to an enlightened confessor, or to another spiritual person […], he is greatly displeased; for he knows that all his malice will remain powerless, once his attempts are discovered and brought into the open." — Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, no. 326^[26]

Hence a simple and formidable test: an inspiration that demands secrecy, that shrinks from being spoken, that cannot bear to be questioned, is suspect. An inspiration that comes from God, on the contrary, does not fear light: it accepts being examined, counseled, tested. What comes from God holds; what fears questioning often reveals its fragility.

Table: Six Questions for Discerning an Inspiration

These safeguards can be reduced to a short list of concrete questions to ask oneself before any important inspiration.

How to read this table: these six questions do not work like a mechanical checklist, but as a bundle of clues. When all converge, confidence is legitimate; when several flash red, we must wait, pray, and consult before acting.

All these criteria would nevertheless fall short if we made them a mere technique of introspection. Christian discernment is not first of all an analysis: it is a gift of the Holy Spirit, granted to whoever asks for it and cultivates it.

"How Can We Know If Something Comes from the Holy Spirit?"

Pope Francis, in the exhortation Gaudete et Exsultate (2018), asks exactly the question of this article — and answers it by pointing to discernment as a grace:

"How can we know if something comes from the Holy Spirit or if it stems from the spirit of the world or the spirit of the devil? The only way is through discernment, which calls for something more than intelligence or common sense. It is a gift which we must implore." — Pope Francis, Gaudete et Exsultate, no. 166^[27]

Discernment is therefore not reserved for the intelligent or for experts in the spiritual life. It is an interior light that the Spirit gives to the humble heart that asks for it, and which develops "through prayer, reflection, reading and good counsel"^[28].

More Than an Analysis: The Gifts of the Spirit

Classical theology illuminates this gratuity. Besides the virtues (which make us act according to reason enlightened by faith), the Holy Spirit gives His gifts — including the gift of counsel, which perfects prudence and makes the soul docile to divine motions in concrete decisions^[29]. Saint Thomas Aquinas speaks of an "instinct" of the Holy Spirit: a connaturality, a supernatural flair by which the soul united to God senses what pleases Him even before it can reason it out. That is why a life of prayer, sacraments, and charity sharpens discernment far more surely than any method: it makes the heart connatural with God, able to recognize His voice as one recognizes the voice of a friend.

Asking, and Making Oneself Available

Asking for the grace of discernment presupposes a disposition: interior availability, what Ignatius calls indifference — not affective indifference, but the freedom of one who truly wants what God wants, and not his own idea. As long as I am secretly decided in advance, I am not discerning: I am seeking a rubber stamp. True discernment begins when I lay down my own will so as to desire only God's will — only then can His voice be heard.

"The Paraclete is in the centre of your soul: listen to Him and follow His inspirations docilely." — Saint Josemaría Escrivá, The Way, no. 57^[30]

It happens, finally, that despite everything we do not reach certainty. That is frequent, and it is not a failure: God often leaves us in sufficient, not total, clarity, to exercise our freedom and our trust.

Choosing Reasonably, Then Verifying by the Fruits

When the signs remain ambiguous and a decision is necessary, spiritual wisdom invites us to weigh reasonably the pros and cons before God, to choose the option that seems best for His glory and our salvation, then to offer this choice by asking God to confirm or correct it. Confirmation will often come afterward: if the decision, once implemented, bears fruits of lasting peace, we may see in it God's seal; if it produces only persistent trouble and division, that is a call to correct course. The time following a decision is thus a second place of discernment — no longer beforehand, but afterward, by the fruits.

Fidelity to Small Inspirations

Finally, discernment must not be reserved for great choices. Holiness is played out above all in fidelity to daily small inspirations — a gentle word, a hidden service, a forgiveness, a prayer offered. The mystical tradition observes that a grace received draws others after it, and that a refusal closes the source:

"Correspondence to holy inspiration draws down another help from heaven; the Lord's mercy rewards fidelity […] with a more generous gift, and so on." — Blessed Dina Bélanger^[31]

This is perhaps the deepest answer to the question asked: we learn to recognize God's voice by obeying Him in small things, day after day. By dint of listening, the ear of the heart grows keen — and what was at first uncertainty gradually becomes a peaceful familiarity with Him who, from all eternity, "speaks to the heart."

• What Is the Discernment of Spirits?
• How to Discern One's Vocation?
• How to Pray When Distracted?
• Why Does God Seem Silent?
• What Is the Moral Conscience?
• What Is Actual Grace?