We often miss the beauty of life that is right in front of us because we are easily distracted. We don’t mean for it to happen—it just does. Life gets noisy, the phone lights up, notifications buzz, and before we know it, our attention is scattered across a dozen places at once, and we’re not fully present anywhere.
I had one of those moments recently while watching our six-year-old granddaughter, Rosie. I was sitting beside her on the couch, reading an article on my iPad, telling myself I could multitask—keep an eye on her while catching up on something “important.” You know how we do it. We convince ourselves we’re still there, still available, still paying attention.
But then Rosie took my face gently in her hands, turned it toward her, and said with the kind of clarity only a child can muster:
“Papa, are you listening? I’m right here.”
Her words stopped me cold. A child’s honesty has a way of cutting through all our carefully constructed excuses and pulling us back to what’s true. In that moment, I realized how often I am physically present but emotionally absent—distracted, divided, somewhere else entirely. My body was on the couch, but my attention, my heart, the part of me that actually connects with another human being, was miles away.
And I found myself wondering: how many beautiful moments have I missed because my attention was wrapped up in something far less important? How many times have the people I love most had to compete with a screen or some other distraction for my presence?
The Challenge of a Beautiful Life
Here’s what I’m learning: a beautiful life isn’t about perfection or productivity. It’s about presence. It’s about being fully where you are, with the people you’re with, awake to the moment that’s actually happening rather than the dozen other distractions demanding your attention.
A beautiful life is marked by joy, peace, kindness, love—the very qualities Paul calls the fruit of the Spirit. But these qualities can only flourish when we bring our full, unhurried selves to the moment in front of us. They require attention. They require presence. They cannot grow in the thin soil of distraction.
But we live in a world engineered for distraction. The Eagles were right when they sang, “We are prisoners of our own device.” Our phones, tablets, and screens—they promise connection, but often steal the very attention required for genuine connection. Every Sunday, my screen time report arrives like a small weekly confession, reminding me of how much time quietly slips away into the glowing void. And every week, I promise myself I’ll do better.
But then the excuses appear, familiar and convincing: “My work requires it.” “I need to stay connected.” “It’s just for a moment.” “I’m just checking one thing.”
And yet, if I’m honest, I know the truth. I know how quickly distraction becomes habit. How habit becomes need. How need becomes something that looks an awful lot like addiction.
Someone once said, “We become what we behold.” Our gaze shapes our souls. Our focus forms our futures. What we give our attention to is what we become. And I refuse to become someone who is always somewhere else, always distracted, always divided. I refuse to live a fragmented, anxious life where I’m never fully present to the people and moments that matter most.
I’m guessing you don’t want that either.
A More Beautiful Way
The good news is that there is a better way, a more beautiful way, and Jesus showed us what it looks like.
He did not hurry. He did not chase distractions. He did not live with his soul split in a thousand directions, frantically trying to keep up with every demand. He lived with clarity, with love, with attention, with presence. When he was with people, he was truly with them. When he spoke, he was fully there. When he prayed, he gave himself completely to that conversation with the Father.
“Seek first the Kingdom of God,” Jesus said, “and all these things will be added unto you.”
Jesus teaches us that the beautiful life begins with focus—not the anxious, frantic kind that’s always checking and rechecking, but the steady, rooted kind that knows what’s most important and refuses to trade it for lesser things. The type of focus that can sit with a child and be fully present. The kind that can have a conversation without glancing at a screen.
This is what it means to seek first the Kingdom. It means we order our attention, our presence, our focus around what matters most. And when we do that—when we give ourselves fully to the present moment, to the person in front of us, to the work of being awake and alive—everything else finds its proper place.
Choosing Presence Over Distraction
So here’s my invitation to you, and to myself, because I need to hear this as much as anyone:
Let’s stop giving the best of our attention to the least important things. Let’s put down the devices when someone we love is in the room. Let’s permit ourselves to slow down, to notice, to really listen—not just to the words being spoken but to the person speaking. Let’s choose the beautiful life, not the distracted one.
Because here’s what I know to be true: beauty is always found in the present moment. Not in the one we just missed because we were scrolling. Not in the one we’re anxiously anticipating tomorrow. But here. Now. In this moment. In this conversation. In this face looking at us, waiting for us to truly see them.
Rosie reminded me of that with her six-year-old hands on my face: “Papa… I’m right here.”
I put my iPad away and said, yes, Rosie, I see you.
God is right here, too. Life is right here. The people we love are right here. The Kingdom of God is right here, breaking into this present moment, if only we have eyes to see it and hearts present enough to receive it.
The beautiful life begins right here. Not someday when things slow down. Not when we finally get our act together. Not when we’ve checked everything off the list.
Right now. In this moment.
This present moment is where beauty lives. This is where love is found. This is where God meets us.
Don’t miss it.
EnSpirit 