Choosing a Spiritual Guide: Questions Worth Asking

When I was training as a psychotherapist, a teacher described conscience to me as holy ground. He asked me to remember Moses approaching the burning bush, being told to remove his sandals before coming closer. In our work, he explained, we also needed to notice what we were bringing into another person’s inner life: our beliefs, our unresolved difficulties, our wish to know what was best for them.

I have returned to that image often. Someone allows us into a part of their life they may struggle to explain even to themselves. We can become important there. What we say may accompany them long after the conversation has ended, which asks considerable care of anyone who offers spiritual guidance.

You might look for such a person after a bereavement, when prayer has become difficult and the explanations you once found comforting no longer reach you. Or you may want help thinking through an ordinary life that has gradually stopped feeling like your own. A person who listens closely can offer enormous relief. For a while, simply being understood may feel like enough.

I would want that relief to have time to become trust. Before telling someone the most intimate parts of your life, it is reasonable to learn how they understand the relationship you are beginning.

“What can I expect from our meetings?” is a useful place to start. Ask about their training and what they are qualified to offer, along with the practical arrangements: fees, frequency and contact between sessions. These conversations belong within spiritual care. Spiritual Directors International’s ethical guidelines explicitly recommend clarifying the relationship and its terms, including how it can end.[1]

A title alone leaves many of these matters unanswered. Someone may be an accomplished preacher and have little experience accompanying an individual through a crisis. A meditation teacher may know a practice deeply without being trained to treat a mental health condition. It is worth finding out what this particular person has learned to do, how they learned it, and where they recognise the limits of their work.

There is another question I would bring into the first few conversations: “What happens if I disagree with your advice?”

The answer can tell you something about the place your judgement will have in the relationship. I would listen for an ability to discuss differences without making agreement a condition of being taken seriously. A guide may challenge your reasoning. They may see a consequence you have overlooked, or ask whether the decision you are considering fits your commitments. You should be able to examine their reasoning too.

The relationship changes when disagreement becomes evidence against you. A concern about the guide’s behaviour is dismissed as pride. Seeking another opinion is described as disloyalty. The possibility that the guide has misunderstood you disappears from the conversation.

This is where I become concerned about abuse of conscience: the coercive use of sacred or moral authority to undermine a person’s freedom to examine, judge and choose. The guide’s interpretation acquires the force of a divine instruction, and questioning it carries a threat to your standing, your belonging or your sense of being acceptable to God.

There is support within Christian teaching for taking that distinction seriously. In his January 2023 catechesis on spiritual accompaniment, Pope Francis described a companion who helps a person discern while leaving the work of discernment with that person. He also warned about forms of dependence that keep someone in an infantile position.[2] A guide can have convictions and offer substantial help while respecting the responsibility that remains yours.

Privacy deserves its own conversation, preferably before you disclose something difficult. “What will remain private, and what are the limits?” Ask whether notes are kept and who might see them. Find out whether the guide discusses their work with a supervisor or colleagues, and how your identity is protected. SDI’s guidelines address confidentiality and its limits; arrangements should be explained rather than left to assumption.[1]

Practices do differ. The Insight Meditation Center, for example, explains that its teachers may consult one another about individual practice discussions unless confidentiality is explicitly requested.[3] Knowing this in advance allows someone to decide what to share. It also shows why the word “private” may need a more careful conversation than either person initially expects.

I would also want to ask, “Who holds you accountable for your work?” A reassuring answer should lead somewhere concrete. You need to know whom you could contact if something went wrong, including a route that does not require taking the concern first to the very person whose conduct troubles you. Supervision can help a guide examine their work; handling a complaint is a different responsibility. A respected colleague’s name does not, by itself, explain how either process works.

Notice whether questions like these are welcomed as part of beginning responsibly. You have not accused someone of misconduct by asking what happens if there is a problem. They also deserve a relationship in which responsibilities are understood.

This includes boundaries that can feel awkward to mention in a spiritual conversation. “What boundaries do you keep around physical contact and relationships with the people you guide?” An explanation that depends on the guide being unusually enlightened should invite further scrutiny. The Insight Meditation Center’s code, for instance, explicitly prohibits sexual activity between teachers and current students.[3] Whatever language a tradition uses, a person’s spiritual standing does not make sexual pressure or exploitation acceptable.

The same care belongs in less dramatic situations. If the person hearing your doubts is also deciding whether you keep a job within the community, you may reasonably wonder how freely you can speak. Ask how those roles are separated and whether another guide is available. A difficulty built into the arrangement should be addressed in the arrangement, rather than left for you to overcome through greater trust.

Competence also includes recognising when somebody else is needed. “When would you suggest another kind of help?” is a question worth asking. SDI’s guidelines call for referral when a person’s needs exceed a director’s competence.[1] You should be able to discuss professional care without having to defend the sincerity of your faith. Spiritual companionship can remain meaningful alongside other support.

Eventually, I would want to know how the relationship understands its own ending. You can ask early: “How would we end our work together if I wanted to stop?” There may be practical arrangements to honour. There may also be sadness, especially after years of meaningful conversations. Neither gives a guide the right to frighten you into staying by claiming that your departure is a rejection of God.

Of course, a person can answer every question beautifully and behave differently later. These conversations are a beginning. What matters over time is whether the answers survive ordinary moments: you decline to discuss something, point out that they have misunderstood, or tell them that a suggestion has not helped. There should be enough room to find out what happened without your character becoming the problem under discussion.

I would pay attention, too, to what you find yourself leaving out. Perhaps you have stopped mentioning a friendship because you know it will be criticised. Perhaps you rehearse the version of your week that will earn approval. Those observations deserve consideration. They do not establish abuse on their own, but they may help you recognise that something important is no longer being spoken about. You can seek another perspective without first obtaining a verdict on the person who has been helping you.

For those who have already been hurt, asking these questions may feel uncomfortable. A new guide does not need the whole account of that hurt before respecting your pace. You can begin with what you are ready to bring.

I think again of my teacher and the care he was asking of us. There is much we can learn from a person who knows our tradition well, who listens when we struggle and helps us think more carefully. I would also want to know how they respond when we say, quietly, “I’m not ready to talk about that.”