I’ve decided my life amounts to one long pencil sharpening. In my 20s, youthful arrogance usurped my teachable spirit. My pencil was barely sharp. New ideas piqued my interest at college.  Alternative schools of thought battled for my attention. I tucked Marxist volumes under my arms as I strutted around campus. Then I stuck a big toe into various pools of alternative religions. I imagined I was the smartest person in the room everywhere I went. My pencil seemed sharp. Until suddenly I realized I wasn’t. Since then, I’ve worked on refining and sharpening my discernment. And the farther along I get in the process, the more I realize I’ll…