Needle in a Haystack Part 3
June 25, 2026
Needle in a Haystack Part 3
“Looking for a needle in a haystack” also applies to the spiritual life. Sometimes we desperately seek something essential—guidance, clarity, purpose—yet what we need is hidden from plain sight.
In the mid-1990s, I felt a persistent pull toward the spiritual dimension of life, one that would not let me go. During spiritual direction, I wrestled with questions of vocation. I was a psychologist, but I naturally involved spirituality in my practice. It is my belief that all healing ultimately comes from the Divine. I prayed with my patients; I assigned spiritual books for them to read and spiritual practices for them to encounter. Honestly, sometimes I felt as if I was doing ministry as well as being a psychologist. The thought struck me: was I meant for the priesthood? The diaconate? Or was I meant to become both a minister and a psychologist?
I realized the answer could not come merely from my own mind. It would have to come from God. But would I recognize it when it came, or would it remain hidden like a needle in a haystack? I sought clarity.
During this season of discernment, I attended the Liturgical Arts Conference that my wife, Lark, had directed at Kanuga Conference Center for years. One afternoon, when everyone was in class, I felt the familiar inner tug — this time it drew me toward The Chapel of the Transfiguration, a beautiful old wooden chapel that sat in the middle of Kanuga’s grounds. I had been coming to that chapel since I was twenty-one. Today the chapel was empty. I knelt at the altar to pray and then felt an unmistakable prompting: something inside me said,” Walk behind the altar.”
Behind the altar was a small, crowded sacristy with the scent of candle wax, incense, and faint traces of port wine. On a crowded clothes rack, hung several robes, vestments, and stoles for the priests. In the corner stood a full-length mirror. Then the thought came clearly: Put on a vestment and see how it feels.
Part of me expected a revelation. I imagined I might finally see myself as a priest and that would be the sign. I put the beautiful robe over my head, adjusted it, and turned to look in the mirror. I at once knew deep in my heart, that I was not meant to be a priest. It was not that I appeared odd in the robe; I had served on the altar in a robe as a chalice bearer many times. But the exercise revealed to me something essential that I had not been in touch with about myself: I had a ministry, but it was not in the corporate or congregational realm. It was solely one-to-one. Yet another realization came just as powerfully: my work as a psychologist was itself a ministry that required no vestments, no church ordination, only a willingness to participate in the sacrament of healing. I have often reflected on how a small inward tug toward a hidden room brought such clarity.
Yesterday, at the store, I encountered an old friend and former patient being wheeled by her caregiver. Nearing ninety, she spoke with gratitude for her long life, though she had recently been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Elegantly dressed and still radiant with that familiar smile, she moved me deeply as she explained how she was ready for whatever happens.
As we parted, I did something I do only when it feels right and would be acceptable. Today, it felt completely natural. I took her hand and with my other, I gently traced the sign of the cross upon her forehead. We both knew. And in that quiet moment, I understood once again: sometimes the needle we search for has been guiding our hands all along.
Spiritual Practice
What tugs have you felt that ended up being much more meaningful than you ever thought? How are they shown in your life now?
Inquiry
Why is some guidance from God so hidden?
Prayer
Dear God, that day was transformative for me. I pray for other such days. Amen
