6 min. to read if you read all the footnotes, too.
This summer, my family took a week-long vacation to Central Oregon. One kid is in college. The other will graduate from high school next year. We are acutely feeling the transition that comes as our children become adults. This may be our last family vacation like this. So, we wanted to cram in as much adventure as our kids would tolerate.
But this trip was also a desperately needed respite for my soul. I am worn, folks. So sad. So tired. So overwhelmed with the feeling that I can’t do anything about… all of this.
My country is sliding toward a kind of soft totalitarianism. Almost daily, there’s another report of some government official pushing past a line of policy or behavior that would have been unimaginable a decade ago and doing so without any accountability. The “winner takes all” attitude that defines U.S. politics is just not conducive to human flourishing. I can’t go on the internet without seeing footage of families being separated or watching people trying to get citizenship the “right way” being dragged out of immigration court by masked, unidentified agents. I’m sick seeing notices from families about their loved ones who have just been “disappeared” off the street. All this on top of economic policies that are pushing stability (not to mention “the American dream”) out of the reach of more and more people. I found myself feeling such despair at these circumstances and my inability to do anything about any of it.
I knew I needed a reset. It’s quite a privilege to be able to turn off the news and stop worrying because these terrible things will have less of an impact on my family than others. That’s not the kind of reset I wanted. I needed to be reminded of a hopeful vision. With an intuition of what I needed, I reached into my “to read” pile and pulled out See No Stranger by Valarie Kaur.

This book was just what the doctor ordered. Almost every chapter evoked tears. Sometimes, those tears were grief for the terrible experiences in Valarie’s memoir, but most of the time, they were the tears that come when you see hope where you felt like there was none. This book is an unqualified recommendation from me — but that’s not the point of this essay. By choosing to disconnect during our vacation week and letting See No Stranger focus my thoughts, I was exercising a vital and often overlooked spiritual practice.
Attention: One of the most powerful forces in your life.
I was stewarding my attention. When you give someone your attention, you express love. When you turn your attention toward someone or something, you give the object of your attention direct access to your heart. Your attention is the most valuable thing you have to offer. Corporations know this better than we do. They put a dollar amount on your attention every single day with their advertising budgets. They know that if they can hold your attention, they can shape your sense of need. If they can capture your attention, they can secure your time and money.
Algorithmic social media is built on this principle. The goal of every social media company is not to communicate or entertain. Their sole goal is to capture your attention. They do this, not to serve you but so that your attention can be colonized. So, the algorithms are tuned to grab you by your amygdala. Anger, horror, incitement to fear. They leverage normal human hopes and dreams to sell your attention to the highest bidder.
I don’t recount all of this to discourage you. I only want to point out that an entire, massive industry is built on the value of your attention. They know what we often wish to ignore: where we focus our attention shapes who we are becoming.
An essential spiritual practice.
This principle appears in Scripture in several places. James 1:12–14 describes how sin happens. It doesn’t start with the devil on your shoulder. It begins with desire, which is a form of attention. When we allow our attention to rest on things that aren’t good for us, that desire will shape our thoughts and mental justifications. Unless we shift our attention, that desire will give birth to sinful actions. In contrast, Philippians 4:8 tells us that by choosing to focus our attention on things that are loving and life-giving, we will find ourselves experiencing God’s peace. 2 Corinthians 3:18 tells us that by focusing our attention on Jesus, we will be changed into a similar image.1There is a way that we can shift our attention that is really a kind of denial. We can close our eyes to injustice, preferring not to look at the suffering of others. If we can’t see it, it’s not our problem, right? That’s not the sort of thing I’m advocating — and perhaps a topic for a later essay.
As I spent the week reading See No Stranger, I could feel my inner world shifting. First, I was giving my attention to this book rather than the endless scroll. That in itself was grounding. But in the book, Valarie shifted my attention in constructive ways. She allowed me to see her life as a minority on several fronts. She let me see her family and the journey they have been on. She helped me see the people she has advocated for throughout various seasons of her life. And along the way, she invited me to turn my attention to the best wisdom of my faith tradition. As a Sikh woman, she invited me to place my attention fully on Jesus.
This is an example of the impact of stewarding our attention. The choice we make about where to direct our attention forms us — even when we think we are just choosing entertainment, passing some marginal time, or catching up on popular culture. Those things we give our attention to grow in significance, and we are changed in the interaction.
In my journal, I found the following paragraph. It’s in quotes, so I think I must have come across it somewhere. I don’t think these are my words, but I’ve searched online and can’t find them anywhere.2If you know the source, please let me know and I’ll credit appropriately! Check this out:
“Pouring your precious attention on things unworthy of it is like watering the weeds. The thistle doesn’t care if the person holding the watering can is smiling or shouting at it. Water is water. Let such things wither. Their root is shallow. Go tend what you want to grow.”
Your attention will shape your heart. What kind of heart do you want to have? Then give your attention to things that will nourish that kind of change in you.
- 1There is a way that we can shift our attention that is really a kind of denial. We can close our eyes to injustice, preferring not to look at the suffering of others. If we can’t see it, it’s not our problem, right? That’s not the sort of thing I’m advocating — and perhaps a topic for a later essay.
- 2If you know the source, please let me know and I’ll credit appropriately!
Reading your words redirects my attention from the “mindless doomscrolling ” that drains me of energy. Your comments on silence remind me what the purpose of sitting still should be. For me trying to sit in silence is difficult for two reasons: as a youngster, my mom was one of those people that was always saying “put that book down and go DO something.” Except when it came to studying during school, she viewed my reading habit as a way of avoiding interaction when we spent weekends with extended family. The second reason is that my ears continually have a buzzing/locust tone, so I never truly experience silence. The tinnitus is louder when I don’t have my hearing aids in; having external noise to listen to helps soften it to a dull roar. That is why for years (before hearing aids) I would have at least the radio playing while I read or studied. I truly cannot focus or concentrate well with that infernal buzzing.
I find walking outside and listening to birds or other nature noises if helpful. So that oftentimes is how I do my contemplation, weather permitting. (Yes I know. Walking is still moving and not just sitting still, lol.)
Lots of excellent food for thought here. Thanks for sharing!
I alsos grew up in a home where “doing nothing” was seen with suspicion.😅 These messages are deeply woven into us, aren’t they? I had a moment where I “saw” myself so clearly and painfully. My son was young, maybe six or so. I don’t remember if it was summer or a vacation day or just the weekend. But I walked into the living room and he was laying on the floor. Not playing, just laying on the floor looking at the ceiling. Involuntarily, I remarked as I walked by, “Don’t waste your free time!” Just hearing myself say that stunned me. What was I thinking? Why couldn’t laying on the floor doing nothing be the right call? The drive to be productive is woven into our DNA. It’s part of the U.S. culture, it’s part of the Calvinist heritage that’s woven into our productivity-oriented American Dream orientation. It’s really hard for us!