Look Up: Choosing Presence Over the Pull of “Everything Else”

When my friend Kate Merrick joined us on the All Things Possible podcast, I felt like I was getting a gentle, holy nudge—okay, more like a firm shove—back toward what matters most. Kate has lived a big life: church planting, running a family surfboard business, mothering kids with grit and grace, and walking through the deep waters of suffering when her daughter, Daisy, battled cancer and went home to Jesus. Through it all, God taught her to slow down, to be here now, and to fiercely guard the precious gift of presence.

One scene she shared is seared into my heart. Sitting in a gray hospital room, scrolling a feed full of sunshine and surf, Kate heard the Lord say, “Look up.” Right there, in that hard place, she was missing the gift God had placed in her arms—time with her daughter. She put down the phone, climbed into the hospital bed, and chose presence.

I needed that reminder. Maybe you do, too.

I’m wired to do all the things, skate park and beach runs, projects and plans, a calendar that can look like a game of Tetris. But motherhood and marriage and honestly, just following Jesus keep bringing me back to the truth: if I miss the people right in front of me, I miss the point.

We live in a culture that rewards constant motion. Do more. Be more. Show more. But the voice of Jesus is different: “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33, ESV) He never promised ease. He promised Himself. And when life is heavy or hurried, the answer isn’t more noise, it’s more of Him.

Kate and her husband made a radical choice when Daisy needed treatment in Israel: they left social media behind. Not because the internet is evil, but because their daughter was a once-in-a-lifetime gift they refused to share with distraction. They wrote weekly emails to family and spent their days walking the Holy Land, playing cards at tiny cafés, and watching people. They met neighbors, celebrated Jewish festivals, and let the rhythm of presence reorder their souls.

That kind of countercultural choice doesn’t happen by accident. It takes discernment and discipline. It takes naming what’s forming you, your feeds, your fear of missing out, your hurry, and then choosing a better way.

If you’ve ever scrolled past the life you actually love, you’re not alone. The enemy has been running that scheme since Eden: “You can have everything—except the one thing you really want.” And we bite. We stare at a rectangle and feel the lack. We rehearse what we don’t have and forget the good God has already placed in our hands. But gratitude breaks that spell. Scripture invites us to pray, “Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil.” (Psalm 90:15, ESV) Only God can turn affliction into gladness—but we can posture our hearts to see it.

Here are a few ways I’m practicing presence (still a work in progress!):

• Sabbath like you mean it. One day that doesn’t look like the other six. Phones down, bodies outside, hearts unhurried. God wired rest into creation before sin ever entered the story.

• Create device boundaries. I keep social media on a separate device so it stays in its lane. You might try “no-phone zones” (dinner table, bedrooms) or “no-phone hours” (first and last hour of the day).

• Choose embodied joy. Make bread. Plant a tree. Paddle out. Read aloud. Knock on your neighbor’s door. Real, tangible life trains our hearts to delight in God’s everyday gifts.

• Curate your inputs. You were not designed to carry the grief of the entire world every hour. Pray, give, act locally, and then hand the rest to Jesus.

Presence doesn’t magically remove pain. Kate would be the first to say that. But it does allow us to receive what God is doing right here, right now. It helps us love our people well—to look into our child’s eyes, to listen to our spouse, to linger with grandparents, to let the ordinary feel holy again. And it reminds us that Jesus is with us in both the gray hospital rooms and the golden-hour beach days.

If today feels hurried or heavy, hear the Father’s whisper: Look up. Your people are right here. Your breath is a gift. Your Savior is near. And the joy He gives can’t be downloaded, scrolled, or streamed—it’s lived.

“You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”
(Psalm 16:11, ESV)

Major Takeaways

1. Presence is a practice, not an accident. Build rhythms—Sabbath, device boundaries, embodied joy—that help you see and savor the gifts God has already placed in your hands.

2. Gratitude disrupts the lie of lack. When you feel the pull to compare or hurry, pray Psalm 90:15 and choose to look up. Jesus has overcome the world (John 16:33), and He meets you right where you are.

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