Before engaging in conflict, we must ask: Is the person before us spiritually ready to engage with humility and understanding? Are they mentally open enough to receive a perspective that differs from their own?
As Chaplains and spiritual companions, we are called to a higher awareness—a calling that asks us not just to serve others, but to outgrow our own need to be right. Spiritual Maturity is not found in the ability to win arguments or outtalk another—it is found in the grace to walk away with your peace intact, your compassion unshaken, and your dignity preserved.
Not every disagreement requires our energy. In fact, some interactions are not dialogues—they are monologues waiting for a pause to resume. When people listen only to reply rather than to understand, they build walls instead of bridges. And trying to force your truth through those walls can leave you weary, not wise.
There is a difference between healthy discourse and fruitless debate.
When you meet someone willing to explore a different point of view, even if they don’t agree, that is sacred space. That is where connection grows and hearts soften. But when you encounter someone deeply attached to their need to be right, who reacts with resistance rather than reflection, your engagement often becomes more about their ego than the issue.
Spiritual Maturity is the quiet courage to discern the difference.
As Chaplains, we are spiritual mirrors. Our task is not to convince, but to reflect deeper truth with presence and compassion. We don’t press to be understood; we posture ourselves to understand. We model what it means to “undo the shackles” of our ego—the compulsion to always be right—and instead embody “presence,” the sacred act of being fully here, even in silence.
Spiritual Maturity means learning when to speak and when to be still. It means recognizing that your inner peace is not worth sacrificing on the altar of proving a point. True wisdom often looks like restraint. It is the ability to hold your truth without forcing it upon others. It is walking away, not in weakness, but in reverence—for yourself and the other.
We must outgrow our personal need to be right in order to serve the greater good.
This kind of growth calls us beyond the realm of ego into the landscape of service. In every interaction, we have a choice: Will I feed my need to be correct, or will I cultivate compassion? Will I fight to be seen, or will I choose to see the other more clearly?
We are called to be peacemakers, not point-provers.
Let us be the ones who listen even when it’s hard. Who choose clarity over chaos. Who walk away, not because we are powerless, but because we know our power is sacred.
Let us be rooted in spiritual maturity—where ego is replaced with empathy, control is exchanged for compassion, and winning is redefined as creating space for healing.
Because not every person needs your correction—but everyone needs your love.
