Discerning the Voice in the Noise (Part 4 in the Changing Minds Series)

“See to it that no one misleads you…” — Jesus, Matthew 24:4

The counterfeit has been optimised — for you.
This is why, before anything else, I pause before I share — then I test.

From the first century, the warnings have been plain. Jesus, Paul, Peter, John — all spoke of days when deception would not simply appear, but multiply. False prophets, counterfeit messiahs, persuasive wonders. Deceit so compelling it could sway even the elect, if that were possible.

This is not just about being wrong on a point of doctrine. It is about the slow tilting of the soul — the reshaping of what feels true — by forces designed to bypass discernment.

Part 1 showed how belief lives in clusters, bound to our relationships and sense of self. Part 2 revealed the unseen hands — human and algorithmic — that can nudge those clusters without our consent. Part 3 pressed the danger further: epistemic risk, the erosion of our very capacity to know what is real and good. If the fracture was the crack, and the tilt was the hand on the scale, then this is the whisper you start to trust without noticing.

The apostles understood this risk long before algorithms existed. They saw how logismos — reasoned arguments, intellectual strongholds — could become fortresses against the knowledge of God (2 Corinthians 10:5). They knew deception rarely arrives waving its own flag. It comes dressed in what feels plausible, even pious.

We are living in an age where the volume of the noise has risen beyond anything they could have imagined. The feeds are never still. The signs and wonders are lit by LEDs and served by machine learning. And yet the pattern is the same: subtle, persistent shaping of the mind away from the mind of Christ.

Discernment, then, is not an optional virtue.

It is the difference between being formed by the voice of the Shepherd and being carried along by a current that profits when you are predictable.

Which Voice Has Your Ear?

The question is not whether voices will shape you — they already are. The question is: which voice has your ear?

In the days of the first disciples, voices were few and mostly face-to-face. In ours, they are legion — arriving as breaking news, hot takes, image-driven testimonies, curated playlists of outrage. Some wear the clothes of faith, others the aesthetic of credibility. Both can lead you where you never meant to go.

Recognising the Counterfeit

Sometimes the counterfeit is obvious: teaching that contradicts the gospel outright, or conduct that plainly denies Christ’s way. But more often it is subtler — a theological thread that flatters your tribe, a “Bible thought of the day” that never offends, "signs and wonders will follow you" from a voice that wins your trust through tone and style more than through truth.

In the digital age, counterfeit voices are engineered for stickiness. They are tuned to your preferences, shaped by data trails you never intentionally agreed to share but did. They echo back what you already half-believe, smoothing away friction until you no longer notice the drift.

Knowing the Shepherd’s Voice

John records Jesus saying that His sheep know His voice (John 10:4). Recognition is not learned in a day. It comes from long exposure, from being with Him in Word and prayer, in the worship and witness of His people. Hebrews 5:14 describes maturity as having your senses trained to discern good from evil. Trained — not downloaded, not automated.

This is why the apostles tied knowing to dwelling—as in the knowledge of Christ. Not to consume, but to abide. Not to skim, but to inhabit. And always together, because truth-in-isolation hardens into self-confirmation, while truth-in-community humbles, corrects, and slowly reshapes the very network of belonging that makes something feel true.

Practices That Train the Ear

You cannot will yourself into discernment. You can, however, create conditions in which it grows — I sometimes call this “posturing yourself toward God”:

This Week’s Discernment Drill

• Pause before you share. Let the reflex cool. Ask whether it pulls you toward the mind of Christ or toward your own vindication.
• Test the fruit. Does this voice produce love, joy, peace, patience — or does it breed suspicion, division, and pride?
• Bring it into the body. Let trusted brothers and sisters weigh it with you. Lone-wolf discernment is a short road to self-deception.
• Pray the Scriptures aloud. Let the Shepherd’s voice be the one you hear most often, not just in study, but in the air you breathe.

For years I’ve been part of a Saturday morning practice. At 6:30am — and it’s not just “church leaders” — a group of us gathers to pray and prepare for our Sunday meeting. We begin by reflecting on the week just gone. Sometimes that means receiving encouragement. Other times it means hearing correction. Then each person shares what they believe the Lord has been speaking to them about. Some weeks the messages are wildly different; other weeks, agreement emerges almost immediately.

As each shares, we listen for the thread of the Spirit’s leading for our body. Different perspectives are welcomed, and we weigh them against the Word as our plumb line. We talk until we reach agreement — and sometimes, we don’t.

I remember one morning after long discussion, nothing clear emerged. Finally, one of the leaders said, “I’ll just preach.” Immediately, another brother shot back, “Just preach? JUST PREACH?? This is the body of Christ — we don’t just preach!” The point landed. As a 'by default' conflict avoider, I was squirming. After a period of awkward silence, we disbanded and agreed to wait on the Spirit. That Sunday, three brothers shared, each bringing what — in the waiting — we had all found to be the same leading.

Another time, we disagreed so sharply it felt like Paul and Barnabas in Acts 15. No vote was taken. We simply agreed to meet every Monday until the matter was resolved. It took five months. The first three meetings were tense. I started to dread Monday evenings, but we all persevered. Five months of prayer, listening, wrestling, and letting the Lord dismantle the strongholds of our own thinking — until we could see and affirm His direction together. COVID hit just after that, and the issue we had wrestled with, was key to our local body thriving during the lockdowns.

To some, that may sound excessive. But this is the body of Christ. It is His will and purpose we are seeking, not our own. And sometimes, being human means letting Him work on us for as long as it takes. Discernment, like unity, is measured in God’s time, not ours.

Like Abraham building altars in every place he sojourned, these practices are not ends in themselves. They are tangible ways of saying, here and now, “I will remember the voice that called me out.” Paul lived this way, keeping the gospel central amid competing voices.

Belonging and Believing

Discernment is not a personal talent. It is an identity reality. Who you are with shapes what you believe. Who you belong to shapes what you will listen to. If you are in Christ, you have His Spirit — and His Spirit works not only in you, but among you.

The voices will not grow fewer. The noise will not fade. But you can learn, together with His people, to recognise the clear tone of the Shepherd cutting through the static. And in hearing, to follow.

And that is where this must lead next: from hearing the voice, to becoming a people whose shared life makes that voice unmistakable.