The Practice of Paying Attention: Finding Faith When Everything Feels Overwhelming

I want to start with a story that's been haunting me lately. It's from a poet and rapper named Propaganda, and it goes like this: A man realizes he's been living life in tweetable moments, trying to make everything last longer by capturing it on his phone. His wife calls his phone his "black wife," and instead of listening to what she's actually saying, he's in his head composing the perfect tweet about marriage and love. Sound familiar?

When his father—a civil rights veteran and Vietnam war vet—hears this story, he doesn't offer sympathy. Instead, he drops this truth bomb: "You can't hear past the explosions. Either the ones that already happened or the ones you anticipate." He explains that we're either paralyzed by our past, driving full speed into disaster while looking in the rearview mirror, or we're so focused on what's coming that we step right on a landmine.

Then comes the gut punch: "Her name is time. And she told me a secret. She said multitasking is a myth. You ain't doing anything good, just everything awful."

This poem landed on me like a revelation because it perfectly captures where so many of us find ourselves right now. We're drowning in information, overwhelmed by crises, and somehow supposed to pay attention to it all. But what if the answer isn't doing more, but being more present?

When Everything Is Breaking: The Revolutionary Act of Margin

Let me be real with you about where I'm at. About a year and some change ago, I quit my job. Had a plan, financial margin, dropped projects, built websites, sent cold emails to thousands of people. I've been grinding hard. But in this current climate—with AI disrupting everything, anti-DEI backlash, and frankly, if you're not right-wing, white, and male, it's been challenging—the pressure is building. My financial cushion is shrinking, and my stress response is to grind harder.

I grew up poor, fifth of six kids with a single mom. Grace and grind are the only reasons I'm standing here today. But here's what I'm learning: margin is the faith to be when everything is breaking.

When we look at Moses in Exodus 3:1-8, we find him tending his father-in-law's sheep on Mount Horeb. This dude went from palace to pasture—he was literally a prince of Egypt who became a working-class shepherd. Talk about a steep decline. And this story happens 40 years after he fled Egypt as a fugitive. Forty years of what must have felt like breaking, chaos, insecurity.

Yet when Moses sees that burning bush, he has the margin to say, "I must turn aside and look at this great sight." The Hebrew word here is sur—to depart, to move away from, to come to an end. Moses literally had to stop what he was doing and create space to encounter God.

"Margin is the faith to be when everything is breaking."

This is countercultural, y'all. Everything in our society screams hurry—from quick content to ChatGPT to the 24-hour news cycle. Everything calls you to rush. But margin? Margin is a revolutionary act.

Think about it: Moses, the one who would lead the Israelites out of slavery, came from outside their circumstances. He had time, brain space, margin to think clearly and lead resistance. The work of the prophet has always been to create margin in the minds of the oppressed. Harriet Tubman saying "Follow me to freedom." Dr. King declaring "We as a people will make it to the promised land." That's why one of the most revolutionary things you can do right now is make time to think, to rest, to learn. Overwork is a tool of the oppressor—whether ancient Pharaoh or modern systems that keep us so busy, so exhausted, that we don't have mental capacity to resist.

We see this clearly in how the current administration throws so much at us daily—executive orders, chaos, BS designed to overwhelm our minds and overwork our bodies so we have little capacity to resist. It's an old playbook, but it works.

Slowing Down: Attention as Faith to See

We don't all have the same access to margin—privilege plays a real role here—but we all have moments where we can slow down and practice presence. Attention is the faith to see when everything seems cloudy.

Being present isn't just some mindfulness buzzword. It's a spiritual practice that asks: Where are you putting your attention? Is it stuck in the past, anxious about the future, or fully engaged with this moment?

Author Barbara Brown Taylor puts it beautifully: "The practice of paying attention is as simple as looking twice at people and things you might just as easily ignore. To see takes time, like having a friend takes time."

I get it though—in the cloudiness, in deconstruction, in darkness, attention can be intimidating. Sometimes it's downright scary. When your faith feels shaky and the world is falling apart, the last thing you want to do is slow down and really see what's happening. But this is part of our spiritual maturation.

Margin creates space for three kinds of attention:

Attention to ourselves: When did you last check in with yourself? Really ask, "What do I need spiritually, mentally, emotionally, physically?" Are you so caught up in doing that you've overlooked your own needs? Ruth Haley Barton writes about a spiritual advisor telling her, "Your soul is tired and battered. You can't do anything until you rest, and it may take longer than you think." That self-knowledge is crucial because God often speaks to us through our emotions and feelings.

Attention to others: When we slow down, we can show up for community—asking those same check-in questions of people we love. We create space for God to speak through others. Now, this doesn't mean everything everyone says is from God (we all know people be tripping), but it doesn't mean God won't speak through others either. As John reminds us, test the spirits—if it doesn't align with Jesus, it ain't Jesus.

Attention to God: This is where it gets nuanced. I grew up thinking God's presence was chills during worship or some "still small voice" that I still don't understand. I don't know if I buy into that anymore. But if God is speaking, I imagine it's through Scripture reading, thoughts in prayer, processing emotions, books that challenge me. It's complicated, but attention is the faith to see when everything seems cloudy.

Finding the Holy in the Ordinary: Reverence as Faith to Hear

When we're truly present, we create space for reverence—deep respect and honor that reminds us we're not gods. Reverence is the faith to hear when everything feels noisy.

For Moses, reverence started with that burning bush, expanded to God telling him the ground was holy (take off your shoes), and culminated in encountering Yahweh directly. But here's the thing—reverence can be found anywhere. As much in a burning bush as in a Boston cream donut. (Y'all really love those Boston cream donuts, and honestly, God be speaking to me through some Boston cream donuts sometimes.)

Barbara Brown Taylor describes reverence like this: "For once you are not looking through things or around them toward the next thing, which will become see-through in its turn. For once you are giving yourself entirely to what is right in front of you."

This slowed-down spirituality teaches us that abundant life isn't found in boundless busyness—it's found in balance. It might result in you leading a revolution or resistance. Or it might result in you hearing your kid's first words. It might be feeling the Holy Spirit give you peace that surpasses understanding in the middle of this storm.

"Solitude had to be a place of rest for me before it could turn into anything else." - Ruth Haley Barton

Starting Small When Everything Feels Impossible

Look, I get it. For many of us, margin feels absolutely impossible right now. The world is crashing around us. Between concentration camps being built, federal funding of family separation, attacks on healthcare, the genocide in Gaza, atrocities in Congo and Sudan, Russia's invasion of Ukraine—the overwhelm is real. The news cycle grows by the minute.

And life doesn't stop. Faith doesn't stop. I've got more questions about my faith right now than answers. Nothing is as simple as it seemed when I was a kid.

But here's what I'm learning: showing up and creating space for God looks different for different people in different seasons. And that's okay. Start small. Dr. King reminds us that "faith is taking the first step. You don't have to see the whole staircase."

Maybe for you, solitude needs to be a place of rest before it becomes anything else. Maybe margin right now is just five minutes of silence in your car. Maybe attention is really listening to one person today instead of multitasking through every conversation. Maybe reverence is appreciating that Boston cream donut without scrolling your phone.

The practice of paying attention through margin, presence, and reverence isn't just individual spiritual formation—it's resistance against systems designed to keep us overwhelmed and disconnected. It's prophetic work in a world that profits from our distraction. So slow down. You've been hypnotized by the possibilities. Create some space. Pay attention to what God might be saying through the burning bushes in your ordinary life. The practice of paying attention might just save your soul—and equip you to help save the world.

Reflection Questions:

Where in your life do you need to create more margin, and what's one small step you could take this week?

When you practice paying attention to yourself, others, and God, what do you discover that you've been missing?