The Feminine Virtue of Discernment
Emma Waters /
This is an adapted excerpt from Emma Waters’ new book “Lead Like Jael: 7 Timeless Principles for Today’s Women of Faith,” out March 24 from Regnery Faith.
Growing up in the pine-shadowed backroads of rural South Georgia, the line between nature and the home was, at times, more of a suggestion than a boundary.
Despite every screened door and sealed crack, the outside world still found its way in. Birds sometimes darted through open doors. Owls, having entered unnoticed during a period of construction, took up residence in our attic. Mice and other small creatures were regular, if unwelcome, visitors. But nothing ever quite unnerved me like snakes.
In my childhood, serpents didn’t just slither in folklore; they slithered in our vents, our drawers, and in our dreams. I remember one afternoon at my grandmother’s house. As we sat chatting in the living room, a snake silently uncoiled from a ceiling vent, descending above our heads like a scene from a thriller.
Another time, I stepped on a black snake barefoot while walking across our yard. And then there’s the story my mother tells from her newlywed days, back when she and my father were still renovating their house. She opened a bathroom drawer and found a snake curled up inside. She screamed, but my father, characteristically calm, took care of it without blinking.
The most unforgettable encounter, though, was both terrifying and—if I’m honest—a little funny. I was in elementary school, riding the golf cart with my sister and a few friends at my grandmother’s house. As we sped down the hill, a rattlesnake lunged at us mere feet from the golf cart. We raced, wide-eyed, to tell our grandmother. Recognizing the danger, she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a gun in one hand and a shovel in the other. What happened next lives in my memory as something between legend and reality: with a steady stride, she approached the snake, shot it, and then severed its head with the shovel. Grandma: 1; Snake: 0.
Perhaps because of these experiences, I had a recurring nightmare for many years. In it, I was trapped, unable to escape from our yard or my grandmother’s, and surrounded by snakes. There was no safe step forward, only the paralyzing sight of snakes slithering all around me. Looking back, I can see that those experiences and dreams mirrored a deeper truth: dangerous and deceptive influences can creep into our homes, threatening the very place that’s meant to be safe and peaceful.
It is no coincidence that in the Bible, gardens often represent the home as sacred, enclosed spaces of communion and cultivation. Nor is it accidental that the serpent’s first attack was not in the wilderness, but in the Garden of Eden itself. From the very beginning, the enemy has always targeted the home. The serpent’s attack was in and against the home where we raise our children, love our spouses, build community, and walk with God. And just like in the literal gardens of my childhood, serpents still sneak in.
But these days, they are not always covered in scales. Some serpents come disguised in half-truths and whispered lies. They slither into conversations as gossip, into pulpits as distorted doctrine, and into relationships as manipulation or betrayal. Just as my grandmother didn’t hesitate to confront the threat in her yard, so we must be ready to confront the spiritual threats that creep into our homes and lives. These attacks of the serpent target our very souls, aiming to sink deadly venom into our hearts and minds.
This is why it is so important that women begin with a serious cultivation of the first tent peg: discernment. It’s the Spirit-led ability to see what is good, true, and worthy of praise, even when our emotions, circumstances, or culture don’t. It’s knowing the difference between pink and blue, truth and almost-truth, and life and death. True discernment keeps its eyes on Jesus and helps us do the right thing, in the right way, at the right time. Easier said than done, right? Like the rudder on a ship, it gives us a true bearing so we can move toward what is right and away from what is destructive, harmful, or unwise. Without it, we drift.
This is why discernment is the first principle. All the others—shrewdness, resourcefulness, hospitality, marriage, motherhood, and matriarchy—depend on it. Applied without discernment, each one can twist into something it was never meant to be. Shrewdness becomes an excuse for manipulation. Resourcefulness sacrifices children on the altar of ambition. Hospitality turns into performance or disappears under the glow of screens. Marriage erodes under self-fulfillment. Motherhood bends toward neglect or control. Matriarchy withers as women chase youthfulness instead of faithfulness. The problem isn’t the principles themselves. It’s that, without discernment rooted in God’s Word, they drift off course. They become almost right. And almost right can still wreck a home. As Proverbs 14:12 says, “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way to death.” Discernment keeps that from happening. It tells us not just what could be done, but what should be done in a way that honors Christ. It keeps the tent standing when the winds blow.
Copyright © Emma Waters 2026. Excerpted by permission of Skyhorse Publishing Inc.