Caitlin Clark, Cultural Swells, and the Discernment of the Spirit

There’s a moment in almost every Caitlin Clark game when the air shifts. The defense pulls up short, the crowd leans forward, and Clark—somewhere just past midcourt—lets it fly.

It’s not just the audacity of the shot; it’s the quiet sense that something irreversible has happened. That the rules we thought we knew are giving way to something more electric, more free, more true.

This isn’t just about basketball. It’s about a tipping point.

We’re watching the culmination of decades of labor, longing and overlooked brilliance. Clark didn’t invent women’s sports, but she may have helped tip them into a cultural moment that can no longer be ignored. 

Ratings are up, arenas are packed, and conversations have changed. Something is shifting, and it’s not just fandom. It’s attention, recognition, and a kind of spiritual reorientation.

But the story didn’t start with her.

Caitlin Clark’s rise didn’t happen in a vacuum. She stands on the shoulders of women—most of them Black women—who dominated the court long before her shots went viral: Sheryl Swoopes. Lisa Leslie. Tamika Catchings. Maya Moore. Candace Parker. A’ja Wilson. Sabrina Ionescu. Diana Taurasi.

The threshold we’re crossing has been earned and labored for across generations. What Clark may represent is not a singular beginning but the moment the collective breakthrough became too visible to ignore.

And if the spotlight has at times been uneven—too often shining brighter on white players—then part of our work is to notice and name that. Not to diminish what’s happening but to honor how long it has taken to arrive, and at whose cost.

Because when something tips, it’s not always the start of something new. Sometimes it’s the reveal of what has long been rising.

The Boil Before the Break

Malcolm Gladwell made tipping points famous nearly 25 years ago. His original thesis was that little things can make a big difference. An idea, trend, or behavior hits a threshold and suddenly, everything changes.

But in his recent book, “Revenge of the Tipping Point,” Gladwell takes the metaphor further. Tipping points, he now argues, are often moral reckonings. They aren’t just about cultural momentum. They’re what happens when something hidden, repressed or dismissed builds enough pressure to break through.

Clark may be the spark, but the heat has been building for years.

If tipping points reveal what’s been there all along, then they also demand something of us. They ask us not only to respond, but to discern.

Because not every swell should be celebrated. Not every shift is sacred. And not every current carries us where we’re meant to go.

The Soul of a Tipping Point

Scripture is full of divine thresholds—moments when God’s presence breaks through in a way that cannot be ignored.

In Exodus, God says, “I have heard their cry… I have seen their suffering” (Exodus 3:7). The suffering wasn’t new. But something reached its fullness. The tipping point came not in the pain, but in the divine response.

At Pentecost, the Spirit arrives not quietly, but with fire and wind. The fearful disciples become a multilingual movement. A small room becomes a global launchpad. 

It wasn’t a strategy meeting. It was a holy surge.

Or consider Mary of Bethany breaking the alabaster jar. The house fills with fragrance, and the story bends toward the cross. Sometimes the breaking open happens in beauty. But either way, there’s no return to the past.

And yet, not everyone joins the shift. The scriptures are also full of people who miss the moment. Pharaoh clings to control even as plague after plague warns him of what’s unfolding. The rich young ruler meets Jesus at the shoreline of transformation and walks away sorrowful.

The religious elite witness miracles, hear prophetic truth, and still double down on their systems. “You know how to interpret the sky,” Jesus says, “but you do not know how to interpret the signs of the times” (Matthew 16:3).

It’s a haunting reminder: some thresholds are invitations. Others are indictments.

How to Discern the Current

In a world trained to chase the next big thing, we need spiritual tools to ask essential questions: Is this movement bearing the fruit of the Spirit? Is it aligned with Jesus’ heart for the vulnerable? Is it drawing me toward communion or driving me toward ego?

Because not everything that builds momentum is good. And not everything that swells deserves to be ridden. Some waves are divine invitations. Others are cultural crosswinds. Discernment helps us tell the difference.

Here are a few questions that help:

1. Does it bear the fruit of the Spirit? Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Galatians 5).
2. Does it align with Jesus’ concern for the marginalized?
   The Spirit of the Lord, Jesus said, “is upon me to bring good news to the poor.” If the movement centers the vulnerable and lifts the lowly, it may carry the breath of God.
3. Does it deepen freedom or demand conformity?
   “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free” (Galatians 5:1). If the wave multiplies shame, stifles questions, or demands uniformity, it may not be holy.
4. What’s its source and where is it going?
   Movements of the Spirit often begin in lament, love or longing. Others begin in outrage or ambition. One leads to wholeness, the other to exhaustion.
5. What do the wise say?
   Discernment is never a solo process. Ask your community. Ask the elders. Ask leaders from your faith tradition. Ask the saints. What do those who walk closest with God perceive?

When We Miss the Moment

Not every shift is embraced. Some are resisted, denied, or dismissed. And the cost can be profound.

During the Civil Rights Movement, Martin Luther King Jr. warned not only of the loud resistance of segregationists but of the quiet reluctance of white moderates who preferred order to justice. 

The early church faced similar struggles. Leaders were hesitant to include Gentiles, and apostles needed visions just to sit at new tables.

The church has missed movements of the Spirit before. Sometimes out of fear. Sometimes out of pride. Sometimes, simply because we were too distracted to notice. And every missed moment costs something: credibility, trust, communion, soul.

When to Rise

Still, there are times when the call is to rise. To feel the swell before it breaks. To step out from the shoreline and into the current. Not because it’s popular, but because it’s faithful.

Clark didn’t create this moment alone. The crowd showed up. The fans tuned in. The collective leaned forward. The invisible became visible.

And people said, in one way or another, we see it. We’re with you.

This is what happens in every Spirit-led tipping point: something long buried is brought to light. Something long silenced is sung aloud. Something long dormant is called to life.

Maybe, like Esther, we’re waking to a moment we didn’t choose but are called to inhabit. Maybe the threshold we’re approaching is one we were made for—“for such a time as this.”

So, What Now?

We ask:

• What tipping points are forming in my soul, my church, my community?
• What longing is stirring just beneath the surface?
• What grace, grief, or truth have I ignored?
• Where is the Spirit already moving and how might I move with her?

We don’t create the waves. But we can learn to read them. We can stay awake to the swell. We can bless the moment when it comes.

The sea is full of currents. And the Spirit moves where she will.