Day 225

Isaiah 39–40 | Hebrews 2:5–3:6 | Psalm 95

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Yesterday, I wrote about Candice, her daughter Harper, and the sudden loss of Mike.

I didn’t expect Candice to read it—let alone respond—but she did. And her words have stayed with me.

She told me how in 2019, Mike survived a medical crisis with what doctors called a “0% chance” of living. God gave them six extra years together.

And now, in the wake of his passing, she’s been honest about how hard it is to understand—why God gave that miracle then, but didn’t extend one now.

“Hezekiah’s story,” she said, “has given me a fresh perspective.”

Her words reminded me: what we choose to fix our minds on in moments like hers changes everything. And that’s true whether the ache comes as fresh grief, slow uncertainty, or the daily churn of a distracted heart.

I was reminded of it again tonight at college group.

Empty or Full

Our discussion about R. Kent Hughes’ book, The Disciplines of a Godly Man, landed on the difference between Christian meditation and what’s taught in Buddhism.

In Buddhism, the goal is to empty the mind—to release every thought, every attachment, until nothing remains and you’ve reached a state of complete detachment and clarity.

But biblical meditation calls us to do the opposite. We don’t empty our minds. We fill them—with the truth, promises, and presence of God.

That’s why Isaiah 40 says, “Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these?” (v26). God’s Word doesn’t invite us to think about nothing. It invites us to think deeply about Someone. And where our minds dwell shapes the way our hearts endure.

The Science of Focus

We live in a culture obsessed with multitasking. But the science is clear: the human brain can’t actually focus on more than one thing at a time. We’re single-taskers by design. Neuroscientists call it “task switching,” not multitasking—because you can only hold one true focus in any given moment.

Educational psychologist John Sweller, who developed Cognitive Load Theory, says the human brain can only focus on one task at a time. What we call “multitasking” is really just rapid task-switching—and every switch comes at a cost to performance.

It’s like trying to look at the sun and the moon at the same time—you’ll only actually see the one you’ve chosen to face.

Which means when anxiety swirls, when grief tightens its grip, when stress stacks up, when the mind starts to spiral—if we fix our thoughts on Christ, there’s no room left for anything else to dominate our focus. That’s not denial. That’s the renewing of the mind Paul describes in Romans 12:2. It’s not pretending trouble isn’t there—it’s refusing to let it be what we stare at.

Consider Jesus

Hebrews 3:1 says, “Therefore, holy brothers, you who share in a heavenly calling, consider Jesus.”

That’s not a suggestion but a command. It’s the Spirit’s way of telling us: make Him your focus. Fill the frame with Him. Give your whole mind to remembering who He is and all He’s done.

Because when you single-task on Jesus, the fear, sorrow, and uncertainty that once seemed to tower over you will start to lose their size.

And maybe—like Candice—you’ll find a fresh perspective you couldn’t see before.

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Father, when my mind is tempted to race in a hundred directions, teach me the discipline of devotion—to set my thoughts fully on You. Fill the empty spaces with Your truth. Crowd out the fear with Your promises. And help me find rest in the one place You made my mind to dwell—Your Son, Jesus—until everything else fades away, like the moon disappearing in the morning sun. Amen.