First Things First

There are moments when a simple phrase from a devotional seems almost too obvious to hold much depth. You read it quickly, nod your head, and move on. But every now and then the Spirit pauses you over a sentence you might have otherwise skimmed, and suddenly the words begin to open like a door you didn’t notice before.

That happened to me while reflecting on the phrase first things first.

The devotional said something both simple and quietly confronting: that it is easy for our prayer life to become centered on the list of things we are asking for. Requests stack up one after another—breakthrough here, provision there, healing, answers, direction, protection. None of these things are wrong to ask for. Scripture actually invites us to bring our requests before God. Yet the devotional gently pointed to something we often overlook: in the middle of asking, we can forget to simply enjoy Him.

That realization sat with me longer than I expected.

Because when you think about it, prayer can slowly become transactional without us even noticing. We come with needs, concerns, petitions, and hopes. We focus on outcomes, on timing, on whether the answers appear quickly enough or in the form we expected. And somewhere in the middle of that process, the relationship itself can quietly drift into the background.

But Scripture has always placed the relationship first.

Yeshua says in Matthew:

“Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matthew 6:33 AMP)

Notice the order. Seek first. Not ask first. Not solve first. Not worry first.

Seek.

The blessing follows the relationship, not the other way around.

And as I sat with that thought, another word kept surfacing in my mind: focus.

Because when we come to God, we often believe we are focused on Him. But if we are honest, sometimes what we are really focused on is the outcome we want Him to produce.

And that is where something fascinating begins to appear—not only spiritually, but physiologically.

The human brain is designed with a remarkable system called selective attention. At any given moment, the brain receives an overwhelming amount of sensory information—millions of bits every second. To function without becoming overloaded, the brain filters most of that information out and prioritizes what it believes is most important.

When we focus intently on something, the prefrontal cortex and visual cortex narrow their activity toward a specific target. Neurologically, this creates what scientists call attentional tunneling. Our perception sharpens around the object of focus while everything outside that focus fades into the background.

This ability is incredibly useful. It allows a surgeon to operate with precision, an athlete to track a moving ball, or a musician to concentrate on a single note in a symphony.

But intense focus has a surprising side effect.

When we focus too narrowly, we can actually lose awareness of the larger environment around us.

In neuroscience this phenomenon is often referred to as inattentional blindness—the brain literally stops noticing things that fall outside the narrow beam of attention.

Which suddenly makes that old saying feel much more literal than metaphorical.

You can’t see the forest for the trees.

The more tightly we stare at a single tree, the harder it becomes to perceive the forest.

And that thought brought me back to the devotional.

Sometimes in prayer we stare so intensely at the tree of what we want God to do that we stop noticing the forest of His presence surrounding us.

But here is where another fascinating physiological principle enters the conversation.

Vision researchers often describe two different modes of visual attention: focused gaze and soft gaze.

A focused gaze locks onto a specific object. The muscles of the eyes tighten slightly, the brain prioritizes detail, and the mind filters everything else away.

But a soft gaze works very differently.

When you soften your gaze, the muscles around the eyes relax and your visual field widens. Instead of concentrating on a single point, your peripheral vision becomes more active. The brain shifts from narrow attention to broader awareness.

Athletes use this technique frequently. So do martial artists, artists, and even meditators. When the gaze softens, the brain becomes capable of perceiving patterns, movement, and relationships that intense focus might miss.

You see more—not because you are trying harder, but because you are allowing more to enter your awareness.

And suddenly something beautiful begins to emerge.

Sometimes the most profound way to see God is not by staring harder, but by softening our spiritual gaze.

That realization brought to mind a moment from Israel’s journey that has always intrigued me.

Before the Israelites crossed into the Promised Land, Joshua gave them a very specific instruction regarding the Ark of the Covenant. Scripture says in Joshua:

“Yet there shall be a distance between you and it… about two thousand cubits… so that you may know the way by which you must go, for you have not passed this way before.” (Joshua 3:4 AMP)

At first glance the instruction feels practical. The people were simply being told to maintain distance so everyone could see where the Ark was moving.

But the more you reflect on it, the more profound it becomes.

If the people crowded too closely around the Ark, many of them would have lost sight of its movement entirely. Those in the back would see nothing but the people standing in front of them.

Distance created visibility.

Space allowed perception.

By stepping back, the entire nation could watch the direction God was leading them.

And suddenly the spiritual metaphor becomes almost impossible to ignore.

Sometimes when we crowd God with our urgency—when we press our requests so tightly against the moment—we unintentionally lose sight of His movement.

But when we soften our gaze… when we step back just enough to breathe in His presence rather than constantly pressing for answers… we begin to perceive something we might have missed.

His direction.

His heart.

His nearness.

Because the truth is, the greatest blessing in our lives has never been the answers themselves.

It has always been the One who gives them.

David understood this deeply. He wrote in Psalm:

“One thing I have asked of the Lord, that I will seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord.” (Psalm 27:4 AMP)

Notice what David was seeking.

Not outcomes. Not victories. Not even protection from enemies—though those things mattered.

He wanted to behold the beauty of the Lord.

He wanted to enjoy God Himself.

There is something profoundly freeing about that kind of relationship. When we begin prioritizing presence over outcomes, our entire posture toward life shifts.

Prayer becomes less about managing results and more about communion.

Waiting becomes less frustrating because we are not merely waiting for answers—we are spending time with the One who holds them.

And strangely enough, when the relationship moves back to its rightful place at the center, many of the anxieties that once surrounded our requests begin to loosen their grip.

Because the heart slowly remembers something it had forgotten.

God’s presence was always the greater gift.

And perhaps this is the quiet invitation hidden inside the phrase first things first.

Before the requests.

Before the answers.

Before the breakthroughs we are hoping for.

There is a relationship waiting to be enjoyed.

A presence waiting to be noticed.

A God who is not only willing to bless His children—but who longs to be known by them.

⸻

I Hear the Spirit Say…

“My beloved, come closer and rest for a moment. You have spent many days bringing Me your prayers, your hopes, your requests, and your questions. I welcome them all. I am not weary of hearing your voice, and I am never impatient with the cries of your heart. But there is something deeper I long for you to rediscover.

I do not only desire to answer you. I desire to be with you.

There are moments when you come to Me so focused on what you need that you forget to notice that I am already here. Your heart becomes fixed on the outcome you are waiting for, and in that narrow focus you sometimes miss the quiet ways My presence surrounds you.

So soften your gaze, beloved.

Do not strain your eyes trying to see the answer before it arrives. Do not tighten your heart with the urgency of outcomes. Lift your eyes from the single tree you have been staring at and allow Me to show you the forest of My faithfulness that has been growing around you all along.

I am not only the God who answers prayers. I am the God who walks with you while you wait.

When you sit with Me without striving, when you breathe in My presence without demanding that the moment produce something tangible, your heart begins to perceive what cannot be forced. You begin to notice My nearness. You begin to recognize My voice in the quiet places. You begin to feel the steady rhythm of My heart that has always been beating beside yours.

This is why I ask you to seek Me first.

Not because your needs do not matter to Me, but because when you find Me, you discover that the One who holds every answer has already drawn near to you. And when My presence becomes your first priority, the weight of your questions begins to lighten, because you realize you are not walking toward the future alone.

I am already there.

Just as I instructed My people to step back from the ark so they could see the path ahead, I am teaching you something gentle about trust. When you loosen your grip on outcomes and allow space for My presence to lead, the direction you need will become clear in its time.

You have not been this way before. But I have.

So come sit with Me. Let your heart enjoy My company again. Let your soul remember what it feels like to rest in My nearness rather than striving for answers.

I delight in being with you.

Your prayers matter to Me, but your presence matters even more. And as you learn to abide in My presence—simply enjoying Me while you wait—you will discover something beautiful: the answers you long for are not lost in the distance.

They are unfolding in My timing, guided by My wisdom, and carried by the same love that has been holding you all along.”

———

Final Thought

Sometimes the clearest vision does not come from focusing harder, but from softening our gaze long enough to see what has been there all along.

When we stop staring so intensely at what we are asking God to do and instead allow ourselves to enjoy who He is, something beautiful begins to happen. The forest comes back into view. His presence becomes tangible again. And the direction we were searching for often reveals itself naturally.

Because the One who leads us has never been far away.