The Watchman Who Still Sings
1 Corinthians 12:4-6
"There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work."
Have you ever listened to someone describe how the Holy Spirit spoke to them, led them, or gave them an unusual gift, and thought (even if only for a split second), "That sounds…a little out there"?
You’re not alone. To many people, both outside the church and sometimes even inside it, talk of the Holy Spirit’s active presence in their life, feels foreign, mystical, maybe even a touch crazy. I've known a lifelong preacher/missionary who served his entire life in service to the gospel, and yet expressed wonder at how others talk about the spiritual life in The Spirit.
I’ve watched seasoned, Bible-saturated, no-nonsense believers shift in their seats when those stories are told. Some smile politely. Some look for the exit. A few get tears in their eyes and whisper, "I wish God still did that with me."
I’ve met many lifelong servants of the gospel (pastors, missionaries, elders) who have poured out their lives in faithful, sacrificial obedience, yet quietly confess, "I’ve never heard God speak like that. I’ve never had a vision or a word of knowledge. I just keep showing up and doing the next right thing. Sometimes I wonder if I’m missing something."
Let me tell you what I tell them:
(v. 9) "to another faith by the same Spirit"
When the lifelong preacher or missionary says, "I’ve never heard an audible voice, never had a vision, never felt goosebumps or a burning heart…does that mean I’m spiritually tone-deaf?" I open to 1 Corinthians 12:9 and say: "Brother, sister, look. There is a charisma, a grace-gift, called simply ‘faith’ (pistis) that the same Spirit distributes to some in a measure that startles the rest of us."
And you know what that means?
It means the faith you and I walk in every single day (the quiet, stubborn, keep-going kind of faith) is just as supernatural. It’s just distributed differently.
The gift of faith in verse 9 is not saving faith, every believer has that.
Ephesians 2:8
"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God"
And by One Spirit we are one body.
But this gift of faith is not even the daily trust we all exercise. It’s a special endowment, an extraordinary surge of confidence in God’s power and promise that enables someone to pray for healing and expect it, to visit a maximum security prison expecting Christ to change hearts and minds, or to step onto a plane for a mission to a closed country and not look back, or to give away their last dime because God said, "I’ve got this."
But here’s the comfort for the rest of us who live in the steady lane:
If that dramatic faith is truly a gift of the same Spirit…then the undramatic, invisible, keeping-on faith that has carried you through fifty years of Monday mornings, hospital visits, and unpaid bills is also a gift of the same Spirit.
He didn’t shortchange you.
He just chose not to overwhelm you.
So when someone describes the Holy Spirit moving in ways that feel "out there," I don’t have to feel deficient, and the preacher who’s never had a single goosebump doesn’t have to feel second-class. We’re all living on grace that we did not generate.
Some of us just got the megaphone version for a moment so the rest of us could hear the music a little clearer.
Same Spirit.
Same Lord.
Same God at work.
Never think you're unimportant in the body. In the widow who gave two coins and in the boy who gave five loaves. In the missionary who never heard a voice and in the teenager who spoke perfect Mandarin while in the Spirit.
In you. In me.
All of it, every watt of faith, is borrowed glory from one Giver.
And that levels the field, quiets the envy, and makes us all fall on our faces in wonder again.
There are many gifts I'd maybe rather have at work in my life. Mainly because the gift of discerning spirits and exhortation aren't generally well received. No one posts a selfie with the caption "Just operated in discerning of spirits 🔥🔥🔥."
1 Corinthians 12:10
"to another distinguishing between spirits"
Of all the charismatic gifts, this is the quietest and, frankly, the least Instagram-worthy. No goosebump videos, no falling under the power, no cryptic tongues that make everyone lean forward in awe.
Instead, someone in the back row suddenly feels a check in their spirit. A coldness. A grief. A sense that something is off, terribly off, even though the room is smiling and the worship is loud and the prophecy just sounded so encouraging.
That is the gift.
Paul slips it into the list almost casually; wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracles, prophecy, tongues, interpretation…and right there, wedged between prophecy and tongues, the gift of discernment of spirits.
Not discernment of people. Not discernment of doctrines (though it can inform both, that's where wisdom and exhortation come in). Discernment of spirits; the ability to tell whether what is moving in a room, in a word, in a person, is the Holy Spirit, a human spirit, or a demonic spirit.
In Corinth, the church had come out of temples where priestesses inhaled fumes and shrieked oracles of Apollo, where Dionysian frenzy ended in drunkenness and immorality, where the air itself seemed thick with "spiritual" power. When the same kinds of manifestations started happening in Christian meetings; shaking, shouting, strange utterances, how could they know whether Jesus was being enthroned or merely mocked by the same old spirits in new Christian clothing?
On paper Paul's answer was 12:3: "No one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says ‘Jesus be cursed,’ and no one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit."
That's the wisdom gift at work, that was the public, objective test.
But discernment of spirits is the private, subjective counterpart; the Spirit’s whispered "heads-up" inside a believer when the outward confession is flawless but the spirit behind it is not.
The gift is not suspicion on steroids. It's not a license to be the Holy Spirit’s hall monitor. It is a burden of love. People who carry it often feel what nobody else feels, and it can be lonely. They may come across as negative or "too intense" because they’re reacting not to the person but to the spirit operating through the person.
Friends, cherish the ones who carry this gift of discernment (even when they make things awkward). And never forget: the Spirit who distributes dramatic gifts is the same Spirit who distributes the quiet, hidden, utterly crucial gift that keeps the church from swallowing poison with a smile.
Because some fire warms you.
Some fire burns the house down.
Only discernment knows the difference before the smoke starts rising.
One thing I've noticed is the Spirit pairs discernment with exhortation, wisdom, and faith. Maybe a measure of prophecy. But the discerning always have great faith.
I've learned:
Discernment without faith becomes paranoia.
Discernment without wisdom becomes reckless accusation.
Discernment without exhortation becomes a black hole that only points out what’s wrong and never lifts anyone toward what’s possible in Christ.
Discernment without at least a prophetic edge can see the problem but never hear the redemptive word God wants to speak into it.
But when the Spirit clusters those gifts together (and He often does), you get believers who can walk into a room that’s spiritually toxic, feel the weight immediately, and still smile with genuine hope. They see the snake in the garden and the new tree of life breaking through the soil at the same time.
They speak words of exhortation that land like cold water on a sunburn, because they’ve seen what’s false and they know how precious the real thing is. They pray with audacious faith. They carry a quiet authority that doesn’t need volume, because they’ve stood in the counsel of God and come away unshaken.
They've got the ability to hear what the Spirit is saying to the church in that moment and to voice the heart of God over a situation instead of just the diagnosis. It’s as if the Lord says, "I’m going to let you see in the spirit more clearly than most, and feel things more deeply than most, so that you can protect my people. But I will never let that vision turn you cynical. I will lace it with faith, hope, and love so thick that the net effect of your gift is life, not death."
But let me tell you, that gift gets tested all the time. Time and circumstances can make you very cynical. And only God's agape love can keep those discerning moments and exhortations from burning out the heart of that gift-bearer. That gift gets hammered harder than almost any other, because every time it operates, the person feels the weight of what is false, broken, or just straight-up demonic. They don’t just see it; they carry it in their spirit for a moment.
It’s like being handed a cup full of poison so you can warn everyone else not to drink, and some of it inevitably splashes on you. Do that for years (false prophecies that fooled almost everyone else, manipulative leaders hiding behind charisma, subtle seducing spirits in worship gatherings, betrayals dressed up in Scripture) and the soul starts building up scar tissue. The heart learns to brace itself. You can go from "Lord, show me what’s really happening here" to "Lord, do I even want to know?" pretty fast.
The prayer that once believed God for breakthrough starts praying mostly for protection. He gets guarded. The voice that used to exhort now mostly warns. The eyes that once lit up with faith begin to narrow with suspicion.
That's when love must breakthrough, because cynicism is the slow death of the discerning gift.
Only agape love (the kind that is patient, kind, does not envy, does not boast, is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs, always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres) can keep the heart soft. This is the constant struggle for the one with the gifts of discernment and exhortation. I think that’s why the Spirit so often marries discernment to the gift of exhortation. Exhortation forces the discerning person to keep speaking hope, to keep looking for the redemptive thread, to keep believing that God is writing a better story than the darkness they just felt. If they stop exhorting, they start calcifying. This is why I write daily now, it's a defense against the cynicism.
Every single morning I sit down and read, and write words of hope out of a heart that has seen too much, and this devotion is an act of spiritual defiance. I'm refusing to let the poison that splashed on me to have the last word. And this daily discipline of writing devotionally is not just for the people who read it.
It is the Holy Spirit’s appointed therapy for this watchman. It's the way The Spirit keeps the exhortation valve open so the discernment doesn’t pool and curdle inside me.
But honestly, people with these gifts are not just the gloomy watchdogs. They’re the watchmen on the wall who can already see the sunrise. They look for the redemptive thread every single day, because if you don’t, you’re afraid you’ll forget it’s there.
That’s wisdom born from pain.
So I keep writing.
It’s keeping me alive.
And through me, hopefully it’s keeping the rest awake and hopeful too.
The watchman who still sings is the one the dawn trusts most. Because the story doesn’t end where the darkness wants it to. Because he has seen the night at its blackest and still believes the sun is coming. God's Spirit is stronger than that. God's love never fails to shine through that darkness. He does that through the exhortation.
Every time they exhort, they are proving 1 John 4:4 in real time:
"Greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world."
Closing Prayer
Father,
You have stationed some of us on the wall where the night feels longest and the poison splashes highest.
Keep our hearts from calcifying.
Keep our eyes fixed on the coming dawn.
Keep our mouths full of the song of the Lamb who was slain and yet stands victorious.
Pour fresh oil into every scar.
Turn every warning into worship, every discernment into doxology.
Let agape love so fill us that even when we name the darkness, we do it with tears of hope, not cynicism.
And when our voices grow faint, sing over us until we can sing again.
Until the Day breaks and the shadows flee, make us watchmen who refuse to stop singing.
In the name of Jesus, the Light no darkness can overcome,
Amen.