What Is the Focus of Your Decision?

What Is the Focus of Your Decision?

Recently, someone very close to me shared they are thinking about making a significant life decision. The kind of choice that isn't just about a job change or a new hobby—but a decision that will alter the shape of their life and ripple across those who love them. You know the kind I’m talking about. The kind of choice that doesn’t come with a simple yes or no answer.

We’ve all been there, haven’t we? I’ve talked before about the “should haves” and “could haves” of life. About the 20/20 hindsight we all seem to gain—but only after the moment has passed. There’s a funny irony to that, isn’t there? Hindsight is this superpower that shows up late to the party. But what stuck with me from this recent conversation wasn’t just the decision itself—it was the focus behind the decision.

Where is your focus when you’re standing at the crossroads?

This friend of mine has walked through the fire. A failed marriage. Two kids born from that union. And now, in this tiny village they call home, they’re surrounded by multiple generations—parents, kids, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. This isn’t just a place on the map. It’s a web of relationships. It’s a living, breathing network of spontaneous backyard visits, emergency babysitting, last-minute support talks over coffee, and birthday parties where everyone knows everyone. This isn’t just a location—it’s a life.

And now this person is thinking of leaving. For healing. For space. For a new chapter. For the warmth of sun on their face that doesn’t come with snow tires and frozen eyelashes.

I get it. Truly, I do.

You’ve heard me say before that if you need to make a change in your life for your own growth, you should do it. I still believe that. But I want to offer an addition to that belief. Maybe an asterisk. Maybe a magnifying glass.

Ask yourself: What is the focus of my decision?

Because when I look back on my own life and the times I’ve stood at that intersection of stay or go, leap or wait, move or root—I now realize the most important question wasn’t whether the decision would help me grow. It was this: what is my focus when I’m choosing? What lens am I using to view this moment?

I remember once testing the waters for a possible move away from my own little village. I live up north, where snow isn’t some magical holiday miracle—it’s a long, cold, deeply embedded reality. For some, snow feels like Santa Claus and Christmas movies. For me, it feels like a burden. A cold, wet, everyday weight that chips away at the soul over time.

So I did what many dream of. I gave myself two weeks. Two weeks in a warm place to explore what it might feel like to live somewhere else—somewhere without frost warnings and slushy sidewalks.

And at first, it was amazing. Yes, let’s do this, I thought. The warmth! The change! The endless sunshine!

But then my heart turned to those I would be leaving behind. Not just in the big ceremonial ways—holidays, birthdays—but in the little moments that hold up the everyday. The random Tuesday night dinner. The spontaneous driveway conversation that turns into an hour-long heart talk. The quick hug after a hard day. Those small, steady lifelines that are impossible to recreate once you’re gone.

And I realized then—I couldn’t leave. Not because I wasn’t allowed to. But because I couldn’t shake the weight of what I’d be taking away from others. What I’d be subtracting from the lives of those who’ve added so much to mine.

Let me be clear: If you need to go, go. If growth demands it, leap. If God is calling you to a new season, step forward. But before you do, pause long enough to ask: what’s the true focus of this decision?

My friend told me they need to leave for healing. For a reset. For a better life. That makes sense. I hear it. I respect it. But the focus of that decision is different from mine. And that’s okay—but it’s important to name it.

Because no matter what choice you make, your choice will impact others. There’s no way around that. And sometimes, in the name of healing, we accidentally break others.

The daily in-person interactions are gone now. The safety net of presence has vanished. And while time will bring clarity—and yes, 20/20 hindsight will tell the full story—right now, it’s left a lot of people in pain. It’s left some people grieving something they can’t quite put into words. The absence of the small things. The invisible glue that once held the days together.

So I want to share three questions to ask yourself when you’re standing at the edge of a life-changing decision. Three questions rooted in scripture—Old and New Testament—that can help align your focus.

1. Is This Decision Rooted in Obedience to God or Escape from Pain?

This is the hardest question to ask honestly.

Am I making this decision because God is leading me, or because I’m running from something I don’t want to face?

There is a difference between a wilderness that God leads us through and a wilderness we wander into on our own.

In Exodus, God led the Israelites out of Egypt into the desert. Not to escape, but to grow. But what happened when things got hard? They wanted to go back. They missed the predictability of slavery more than the promise of freedom. Why? Because the pain of transition is real.

“And they said to Moses, ‘Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness?’” – Exodus 14:11

Be honest: is this new life you’re reaching for really a calling, or just a quieter place to hide your brokenness?

Sometimes what looks like a fresh start is actually a bypass.

2. Will This Decision Multiply or Isolate the Gifts God Has Given Me?

Jesus teaches in the Parable of the Talents that what we’ve been given should grow, not shrink. Our gifts—our presence, love, wisdom, experience—are meant to multiply in the lives of others.

“For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have an abundance. But from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.” – Matthew 25:29

Ask yourself: Will this move multiply my impact, or shrink it?

Will I be able to bless more people, serve more deeply, reflect Christ more fully? Or am I removing my presence from a place that needs it because I’m tired?

Tired is valid. Jesus rested too. But He always returned to the people.

3. Am I Choosing Based on Temporal Comfort or Eternal Significance?

It’s easy to make choices based on what feels good now. A warmer climate. A quieter place. A new start. And none of these things are wrong—unless they become the only thing.

We must hold temporary comfort up to the mirror of eternal value.

In Colossians, Paul reminds us:

“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” – Colossians 3:2

What you choose today—does it ripple into eternity?

Does it leave a legacy for your children, your community, your church? Or is it only satisfying a hunger for ease?

Jesus didn’t come for comfort. He came to fulfill a mission. And sometimes, comfort comes as a side effect of obedience. But often, it doesn’t come at all.

There are times when leaving is the most God-honoring thing you can do. Abraham left everything he knew because God told him to. Ruth left her homeland to walk beside Naomi. Even Jesus left the comfort of heaven to walk among us.

But in each of those stories, the focus was obedience, not avoidance. Faith, not frustration. Purpose, not pain relief.

So if you're standing at the edge of a decision like my friend was—pause. Take a breath. Look past your own needs, your own comfort. And ask: What is the real focus?

Your healing matters. Your growth matters. But so does your impact. Your presence. Your legacy.

If you need to go, may it be because you’re being led. Not just because you’re tired of staying.

And if you stay, may it be because your roots run deep in purpose—not fear.

One of the most underrated stories in the Bible is in Acts 16, when Paul and his companions were planning to go into Asia—but the Holy Spirit stopped them.

“Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region… having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia.” – Acts 16:6

That line has always fascinated me. Paul wanted to do something good. To preach the gospel! But the Spirit said no.

It wasn’t about the goodness of the action—it was about the focus. The Spirit had a different plan.

And that’s what I hope for you, and for my friend. Not just good decisions. But God decisions. Not just change for the sake of escape. But shifts born of calling.

Because one day, 20/20 hindsight will arrive. And when it does, may it find you focused. Rooted. Obedient. And walking not just in warmth, but in purpose.

Let’s never forget: our choices write stories. Not just our own—but the stories of those we love.

So choose well. Choose focused. Choose faithfully.

Sunday, 25 May 2025