The Hills We Choose to Die On: Discernment, Courage, and Letting Go

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom." – Viktor Frankl

When Everything Feels Like a Battle

You’ve been there. It’s after dinner and you’ve had a long day at work. You look over at your wife and realize she’s loading the dishwasher the “wrong way.” Or maybe it’s bedtime and the kids are just not listening – the toys are not going where they are supposed to, they are splashing the bath water all over the place and you feel that mild irritation building. Or maybe you’re on the phone with a customer service representative and notice your voice starting to raise in an effort to be heard – louder and louder. These little “hills “pop-up every day, and we often find ourselves planting our battle flag on top without really asking why.

Life hands us countless moments where we could fight. The fact of the matter is, many a hill is not worth dying on. We need to think through and ask ourselves some hard questions: What is worth fighting for? What’s driving this battle, our ego and anxiety? Or our convictions and faith?

A Tale of Two Hills

In the early morning hours of February 23rd, 1945, a group of young Marines huddled beneath a fire-swept, black sand berm on the island of Iwo Jima. Smoke and gunfire hung thick in the air. Ahead of them loomed Mount Suribachi, a jagged volcanic hill that had become a symbol of strategic dominance and fierce resistance.

When the order came, they charged grappling up its slopes under relentless enemy fire. Hours later, five Marines and a Navy corpsman planted the American flag at its summit. A moment captured in one of the most iconic photographs of the 20th century. A moment of raising—of triumph, courage, and sacrifice. A hill that was taken.

Now picture another hill.

It is a Friday afternoon in Jerusalem. A beaten, bloodied man stumbles under the weight of a wooden cross. The crowd jeers. Soldiers prod him forward. His friends are scattered or silent. Step by step, He climbs—not in conquest, but in surrender. Calvary is not defended by bullets; it is not ringed by bunkers and barbed wire.  It is guarded by Man’s cruelty; it is bounded by shame and hate. And yet, atop this hill, something too is raised—a Cross. And with it, the very hope of the world.

Both hills bore a raising. One a flag. One a cross.  Both were battles.  Both were sacred.  But their nature was entirely different.

The tragedy is that we often treat our everyday struggles over dishes, bedtime, discourteous drivers, or unreturned texts as though they are Suribachi, hills to be stormed and won at all costs. We brace for battle, flag in hand, convinced we must win.

But more often, the hills we face look more like Calvary. They are not battlegrounds against others, but battlegrounds within ourselves. Places where we are invited to surrender our pride, to let go of control, to love when it hurts, to forgive when it’s costly.

And so the real question becomes:  Is this a hill to fight on? Or a hill to surrender on? 

Not Every Hill Is Suribachi: Learning to Let Go

The trap we fall into here – the belief that every battle matters - often stems from our own anxiety, rigidity or perfectionism. We fight the battles because it gives us the veneer of control over life. We avoid the discomfort that the limits of control over others gives by trying to exert it by force. Or we are fixed on rules over “this is how things are supposed to be done.” We become dominated by the rule, rather than recognizing many times rules are not fixed and can change depending on circumstances.

We may have real reasons that anxiety or those concrete rules are there. These may stem from painful experiences and deep wounds, or repeated wounds. But in these cases,  our minds, those little problem solving machines that do their best to keep us safe and comfortable, become the very thing that keeps us in a state of tension. They are ego-driven and self-serving rather than values-driven and life-serving.

In Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) these concepts are termed experiential avoidance and fusion. In the former, we avoid discomfort in ways that are incongruent to who we are and what we value most. In the latter, we allow thoughts, feelings and urges to dominate us in a way the directs our behavior and leads to problems with ourselves, other people and the world.

The research is clear on these problems too: fighting every battle that comes our way comes with a high cost. In a 2016 metanalysis researchers found that across multiple studies, stress that was exacerbated by persistent anger impaired decision making (Stracke & Brand 2016). In other words, seeking to win every battle leads us to choose worse options meaning – more battles to fight. Similarly, a 2017 study on caregivers found that individuals with higher anger and depression had dysregulated cortisol levels (Zorn et al). So, chronic stress, the kind from constantly fighting on every hill that comes our way, not only has a psychological impact it has a physiological impact as well.

The flipside also is true. Research in the area of forgiveness has shown that practicing forgiveness, not fighting every battle, is highly correlated to decreased stress and overall well-being (Witvielt et. al, 2001). And just like how holding on to anger is linked to a physiological stress response, letting go of it is correlated with a whole range of health benefits including lower blood pressure, improved mental health and healthier cortisol levels (Tobin et al, 2015).

So if we step back and get some breathing room we can reflect. Is there really only one way to load a dishwasher? Highly unlikely. Whats more likely is you’ll just dump a lot of unnecessary cortisol in your system. If the kids are a little late in going to bed, or if they don’t put the toys away just so, will the world come to a screeching halt? Possible – but again also highly unlikely. What is far more likely is that you will get so irritated, that rational, adult part of you will shut down and you will make some other poor decisions you’ll regret later. Because when it comes down to it, many of our conflicts are really about preferences not principles. The fact of the matter is not every hill is our Suribachi. Some certainly are, but are we saving up our energy and fortitude for those?

Some reflections:

• Is this a personal preference or a principle?

• Will this matter in a week? A year? 10 years?

• Is this a wound or sensitivity I have? Or is this truly something I value?

The Role of Courage: Standing on the Right Hills

Some hills are sacred. When our convictions, are integrity and our faith are at stake we are called to show up with courage. When the dignity of the human person or truth is at stake we certainly should plant our feet and raise our flag. There are times in life where we do need to speak out, stand up or be present in a very radical way. It requires conscious effort to swim against the current. It takes deliberate courage to stand up in a meeting, or a family event, and do what is right. Often times this requires us to go against very similar feelings of fear and anxiety but in a way that is selfless rather than selfish.

In ACT this is called willingness. Willingness to tolerate discomfort (anxiety, fear, real or perceived judgements of others) and still pursue what truly matters. Essentially, we act upon what matters rather than being driven by what we fear. Our actions are directed towards meaning and conviction rather than directed away from discomfort.

This type of courageous willingness is exemplified in the lives of the Saints. St. Thomas More, despite being a loyal subject of the king, faced imprisonment and death rather betray his conscience. St. Maximilian Kolbe, volunteered to die in the place of a fellow Auschwitz inmate and took a stand for love and kindness in the very pits of hell on earth. These were in fact hills to take a stand on.

And of course, we have to look no further that Christ’s own Passion and Death to see willingness. Jesus knew the kind of humiliating and agonizing death He would face. In His humanity he felt profound fear. So much so the scriptures record his sweating blood in the Garden of Gethsemane. The medical term for this is hematidrosis. It is a physiological reaction to extreme physical and emotional stress. And yet His reply was “not my will but thy will be done.” Not what I want but what YOU want. That was a Hill grounded in eternal love, truth and profound meaning.

The Daily Discernment: Prudence + Purpose

How do we determine which direction we are going and whether this particular hill is Suribachi or our Calvary? This requires discernment and practice. Namely, practice of the virtue of prudence. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states that “prudence is the virtue that disposes practical reason to discern our true good in every circumstance and to choose the right means of achieving it.”

Discernment is the quiet spiritual task of asking: is this worth it? Make no mistake, while this is a quiet internal process it is not passive. It requires a regular questioning of our motivations and actions – to consider whether we are acting from ego or humbly responding in service of what matters. To identify whether we are following rigid rules our mind, our wounds or our preferences dictate or instead acting out of love and virtue.

It also requires being present. Keeping in touch with where we are and with whom we are interacting. Context matters just as much as conviction. Some hills are worth dying on, but to paraphrase Camus, are they worth killing for? Is it worth ruining the evening with your wife over some dishes in the sink?  

It can be helpful to practice a regular process of reflection. These can be informal, as some of the questions were above. But you can also take it further such as a daily examen-style reflections. Rooted in the Ignatian tradition the examen is a structured prayer form that helps us become more aware of God’s presence in our daily lives. It invites us to live intentionally and with gratitude, both of which can guide us in moving towards what matters rather than letting our ego, wounds or habitual narratives direct us otherwise. There are many processes, and variations but in all of them there is

1.     Thanksgiving – giving thanks to God for the gifts, moments and blessings of each day. No blessing is to small.

2.     Petition – asking the Holy Spirit for clarity as you review the day. So rather than looking at each day through just our eyes – where we can so easily drift into shame and judgement – we invite God into help us see more clearly.

3.     Reviewing the day – walk through the day deliberately. Notice where God was present, and where you moved closer or further from Him. What stirred up in you? What distracted or discouraged you?

4.     Contrition – acknowledge your shortcomings with sorrow and humility. Ask for forgiveness for when you failed to love God, others and yourself. This is not about shame – it is an honest reflection on our own moments of imperfection and a total reliance on God’s mercy.

5.     Hopeful resolution – look forward to tomorrow with hope. Ask for strength and grace to live more faithfully in the day that lies ahead. Often times we can choose to focus on one intention or virtue to focus on. Did you let your impatience get the better of you today? Perhaps that can be the place to start. What kind of person do you desire to become – by God’s grace?

Embracing the Paradox: Strength Through Surrender

And so here we face a paradox. Often times letting go is more courageous than holding on. Perhaps those moments that set our blood to boil, or bring those narratives from our wounds to the surface, are more about dying to ourselves then to dying on a particular hill. In the long run – what would benefit your kids more? The yelling and frustration of the nightly battle of the bed time routine? Or the handling the disruptions with patience, love and clarity. Just as important as finding out if a hill is important enough to die in is who are we asking to die on that hill.

Furthermore, fighting every battle that comes our way leaves us exhausted. We only have so much strength, time, energy and willpower. A far better, and more sustainable strategy is to save or effort for what truly does matter. In that way, we are also more present to what is around us, and can better identify the context that is so crucial in prudentially discern how we should respond.

Just as crucially when we operate as though every interaction is a test of our mettle, every frustrating interaction is an afront to our values, we are disconnected and exhausted. Disconnected in that we are not present to what matters – we find ourselves drifting into the “should have, would have, could haves” of battles long past “she always does this; they never listen!” Or, our minds pull us into strategies of how to fight the next battle:  “Next time you really have to stand firm! They are taking advantage of you!” When our minds pull us away like this we are unable to connect with those moments of joy, love, grace and beauty that are just as present. Viktor Frankl, the holocaust survivor and founder of logotherapy highlighted this beautifully when he reflected “each moment offers us a new opportunity – a decision – to actualize meaning.” Just as sometimes we are in the midst of a task get distracted by our thoughts, or in a deep conversation on a drive and miss an exit on the freeway, so to when our minds pull us away and drag us into every battle. We miss out on the very decisions each moment gives us to be more the man or women that we want to be: the loving father; the patient mother; the supportive friend; the gracious stranger; the helpful co-worker; the good citizen. This often requires a sort of death – a death of ourselves.

Some times those little sufferings, that we bear each day are the very real door to what is most meaningful and what is most sacred. St. Mother Theresa, publicly seen as the face of love and compassion to millions, quietly underwent a profound spiritual suffering for most of her life. This makes her story all the more remarkable in that despite how she felt, she continued to serve and pursue goodness. She reflected, “Pain and suffering have come into your life, but remember: pain, sorrow, and suffering are but the kiss of Jesus – a sign that you have come so close to Him the He can kiss you.” Perhaps in bearing our own crosses, in carrying them up our own Calvary, we can unite our sufferings to something far greater than ourselves.

In this way – by keeping present what truly matters, what truly is worth sacrificing for – we can pursue meaningful lives despite how we feel at the time. We can live our convictions courageously despite the story our minds try to pull toward. Frankl, building on Nietzsche, emphasized the idea that when we have a 'why' to live for, we can endure almost any 'how.' So in this moments where you find your anxiety, or anger, pulling you towards response ask yourself: “what is my why?”

In truth there are battles that do matter. We may need to boldly face our fears; to take action despite our discomfort. God willing, few of us will be called to be martyrs in the big sense and actually laying down our lives. And yet, we should be ready for those moments. They may come. But more than likely, in fact almost guaranteed, it will be those moments each day where we are called to die to ourselves. “If anyone would come after me, let him take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23).  Each day, those hills we face may in fact be our own Calvary, moments where we are called to courageously let our old selves, our old stories, even our wounds pass away. This can be terrifying. There is comfort in the familiar. And taking up our crosses each day is a profound responsibility. But, if we don’t, who will? And when we don’t, who truly suffers?

So perhaps the question to reflect on the next time you face a hill in your life is do you need to die on THIS hill? Or, do YOU need to die on this hill?

Disclaimer

This post is for informational and inspirational purposes only and does not constitute medical or psychological advice. The content provided here is not a substitute for professional care, diagnosis or treatment. Reading this blog, subscribing to updates or engaging with its content does not establish a therapist-client relationship. Please consult a licensed healthcare professional for personal support. Portions of this blog may be generated or refined with the assistance of AI tools. All material has been shaped, edited, and finalized by the author to ensure fidelity to Catholic teaching, sound psychological practice, and lived human experience.

References:

ACT terminology and concepts derived from Hayes, Steven C. et al., Acceptance and Commitment Therapy: The Process and Practice of Mindful Change, Guilford Press, 2011.

Catechism of the Catholic Church, paragraph 1806. Libreria Editrice Vaticana.

Frankl, Viktor E. Man’s Search for Meaning. Beacon Press, 2006.

Holy Bible, Luke 9:23.

Shallcross, A. J., Troy, A. S., Boland, M., & Mauss, I. B. (2010). The influence of acceptance versus suppression of negative emotion on emotional responses to stress. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 48(11), 940–946.

Starcke, K., & Brand, M. (2016). Effects of stress on decisions under uncertainty: A meta-analysis. Psychological Bulletin, 142(9), 909–933.

Tobin, R. M., Graziano, W. G., Van Tuyl, S., & Rokke, P. D. (2015). Forgiveness and health: An updated theoretical and empirical review. In E. L. Worthington Jr. (Ed.), Handbook of Forgiveness (pp. 185– 197). Routledge.

Witvliet, C. V. O., Ludwig, T. E., & Vander Laan, K. L. (2001). Granting forgiveness or harboring grudges: Implications for emotion, physiology, and health. Journal of Psychology and Christianity, 19(1),

16– 28. Zorn, J. V., Schür, R. R., Boks, M. P., et al. (2017). Cortisol stress reactivity across psychiatric disorders: A meta-analysis. Psychoneuroendocrinology, 77, 25–36.