A View from a Pew: Don’t Let Everybody Know How Much Sense You’ve Got

My grandmother used to tell me something that didn’t make sense when I first heard it. She’d look at me and say, “Don’t let everybody know how much sense you’ve got.”

Now when she said it, I thought she was telling me to play dumb. I thought she was telling me to shrink, to dim my light, to lower my voice. But that’s not what she meant. What she meant was this: Not everybody deserves full access to your wisdom.

There’s a difference between being humble and being accessible. There’s a difference between being kind and being exposed. And there’s a difference between sharing insight and casting pearls before people who have no intention of valuing them.

See, the moment people realize you can see right through them, everything changes. The minute they recognize that you understand motives, patterns, and games — suddenly you’re “difficult.” You’re “too deep.” You’re “doing too much.” You’re “the problem.”

But hear me today: You are not the problem because you have perception. Discernment makes insecure people uncomfortable. When you start playing small, they relax. When you stay under them, they applaud. When you stay in the box they built for you, they cheer you on.

But the minute you grow… The minute you move different… The minute your confidence stops asking for permission… That’s when the whispers start. “Oh, she thinks she’s better now.” No,  I just think clearer now.

Growth exposes comfort zones. Some people were only rooting for you because you were beneath them. They were comfortable being the smartest in the room. The strongest in the room. The most evolved in the room. But when you start shining brighter than the boundaries they placed around you, your light becomes “too much.”Let me tell you something powerful: Your growth is not an attack on anyone. But it will feel like one to people committed to staying stagnant.

And here’s where my Grandma’s wisdom comes in. You don’t have to announce every revelation. You don’t have to explain every move. You don’t have to defend every boundary. Move quiet. Let your peace be the announcement. Because folks can’t sabotage what they can’t predict.

Some of your biggest breakthroughs didn’t come because you argued your point. They came because you stopped explaining yourself. And I learned something else over the years: Don’t argue with people who are committed to misunderstanding you.

You know the old saying — if you argue with a fool, someone walking by can’t tell who the fool is. Not every misunderstanding requires a meeting. Not every accusation requires a response. Not every opinion deserves access to your energy.

Sometimes wisdom looks like silence. Sometimes maturity looks like stepping back. Sometimes power looks like a smile and a quiet exit. And here’s the truth we don’t  say enough in church or in life:

Everybody can’t handle your discernment. Some people wouldn’t know what to do with your clarity even if you handed it to them gift-wrapped. Because clarity demands accountability. And accountability makes comfortable people nervous.

So no — don’t let everybody know how much sense you’ve got. Not because you’re hiding. But because you’re protecting. Not because you’re shrinking. But because you’re strategic.

Jesus didn’t explain every parable. He didn’t argue with every Pharisee. He didn’t reveal every move before He made it. Even the Son of God knew when to be silent. There is a sacredness to your wisdom. There is a stewardship to your growth. There is a responsibility attached to your discernment. And sometimes the most anointed move you can make… is to hush. Let your results speak. Let your peace preach. Let your elevation answer the critics.

My grandmother wasn’t telling me to play dumb. She was teaching me to be discerning about who gets access to the depth of my mind, the clarity of my spirit, and the strategy of my next move.

Everybody doesn’t need to know how much sense you’ve got. Because the right people? They’ll recognize it without you ever having to prove it. And the wrong ones? They were never meant to understand it anyway.