Are Your Eyes on the Right Target?

Colossians 3:2 gives us a simple but deeply challenging invitation:

“Set your minds on the things above, not on earthly things.”

It sounds beautiful on paper. But when emotions are high, when pressure is real, when the situation in front of you feels like it’s breathing down your neck — that’s when this verse becomes a battleground. It becomes one of those things that are easier said than done.

There’s a term used in high‑speed driving and aviation called target fixation. It describes what happens when someone becomes so locked onto an obstacle that they unintentionally steer toward the very thing they’re trying to avoid. Their focus becomes their direction. Their direction becomes their collision.

I think that’s us sometimes. Well, I won't speak for you.... That's ME sometimes.

When we’re in a trial, people often say, “Shift your focus.” Which is good advice, but it can feel vague. What does that even look like when your heart is hurting or your mind is spinning?

Here’s the truth: Whatever holds your gaze will eventually guide your steps.

If all we can see is the problem, the fear, the offense, the disappointment, the unknown — we start steering straight into it. Not because we want to, but because we’re fixated. But shifting our focus doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine. It doesn’t mean slapping a smile on and calling it faith. Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is admit, “Lord, this hurts. I don’t understand. I feel overwhelmed.”

That’s where lament comes in.

Lament is the sacred art of telling God the truth about your pain while refusing to let go of Him in the process. It’s not complaining — it’s communion. It’s not despair — it’s honesty wrapped in hope. Scripture is full of it. Jesus Himself practiced it.

Lament is what helps you loosen your grip on the earthly thing that’s consuming your attention so you can turn your face back toward the One who holds you.

It’s the bridge between fixation and faith.

Because life is full of moments that pull at our attention — family needs, work pressure, relational strain, unexpected news, the weight of responsibility. None of these things are wrong. They’re simply not meant to be the center of our gaze.

The danger comes when the urgent becomes more important than the eternal, when the visible becomes louder than the invisible, and when the temporary becomes heavier than the truth.

That’s when the enemy quietly celebrates. Not because he destroyed you — but because he distracted you.

But here’s the good news: you get to choose where you aim your eyes.

And sometimes that choice starts small. Sometimes it sounds like, “God, I don’t have many words today, but thank You for waking me up. Thank You for being here. Thank You for seeing me.”

That’s praise. That’s warfare. That’s re‑aiming your life.

Don’t let the enemy shrink your vision down to the size of your struggle. Don’t let him convince you to stare at the obstacle instead of the Savior. Fix your focus on the right target. Lift your eyes. Let lament clear the fog. Let praise steady your aim.

And every time you worship — even with trembling hands or tired words — it’s like firing spiritual bullets straight into the enemy’s lies. It’s your declaration that he has no hold on your mind, your direction, or your future.

Your gaze determines your path.

So set your eyes above.

And steer your life toward Jesus.

In Him,

Amanda