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Last week, I did something I’ve never done before. I spent 24 hours in the wilderness, completely alone. On Friday morning, I drove out to Snoqualmie Pass, ten miles up a gravel road, and then started walking. I had a backpack with everything I would need to survive a night outside. Now, I have done this many times before, but never alone.
You might wonder why I would do this. I did it because I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted a mini sabbath from the world. I wanted time alone with my thoughts and with God, and so, I went.
As I started hiking, my thoughts were racing, thinking about church, this sermon, errands needing to be run, phone calls to make, a bill that needed paying, an appointment that needed rescheduling.
But as the miles ticked by, slowly, I shed the world I left behind. I started noticing the subtle changes in the leaves, the curves of tree roots, the patterns in the clouds, and the crashing sound of a waterfall in the distance.
I spent the night around 6,000 feet at Lila Lake and then, the most incredible thing happened. As I stepped out of my tent early Saturday morning, I was greeted by God. The eastern sky was glowing vivid orange, yellow, and pink like it was alive. The mountains surrounding me on all sides were clear and the lake water still. The evergreen trees were reflected in the water, and the overwhelming beauty stopped me in my tracks.
I immediately sat down on a rock to pray, thankfulness for a new day, gratitude for this creation, joy upon waking to this miracle. And then, in an instant, the colors faded to grey and I was left in the cloudy dimness of daybreak.
If I had been at home, I would have probably missed such a spectacular sunrise. I would have been cleaning up the kitchen, getting ready for the day, or staring at a screen. But there I was, in the middle of God’s creation with my undivided attention fixed on that sunrise.
That’s really what this sermon is about: stumbling as distraction or disorientation that causes us to lose the path. It’s about our attention in a world that seeks to devour and control it.
Today’s gospel from Luke is an interlude between healing stories. Jesus and his followers, including the disciples, are traveling toward Jerusalem. They are walking along a dusty road on the border of Samaria and Galilee. As they travel, they pass small villages, olive groves, dry fields, and the occasional Samaritan settlement.
Today’s verses follow the parable Kelli preached on last week about the Rich Man and Lazarus and come just before the story of Jesus cleansing the ten lepers. These verses are a mash-up of four separate teachings on accountability, forgiveness, faith, and service.
And it begins with this: “Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come!”
Some stumbling blocks never change: abusing alcohol, inappropriate relationships, hatred, violence. But there are also countless modern stumbling blocks.
I have a friend from college who lives in a place where he’s politically out of step. One of his favorite hobbies is taunting local politicians or organizations on social media by leaving provocative comments on their Facebook pages. He finds it entertaining. But it doesn’t change anyone’s mind. It only causes others to stumble, and him too.
I want us to consider the “occasions for stumbling” in our own lives, especially with regard to our attention. How do you prioritize your attention? Who gets it? How do they get it? When do they get it? Or are you allowing yourself to be seduced by the Sirens’ call?
You may remember the Sirens from The Odyssey. Odysseus and his crew had to sail past their island, where the beautiful song could draw sailors off course and to their deaths. Odysseus knew the danger. So he had his men plug their ears with wax, and he himself was tied fast to the mast. As the ship passed, he strained against the ropes, longing to give in, but the cords held him steady. That was the only way they made it through safely—by guarding their attention against the call that wanted to destroy them.
Jesus warns the same: distractions will come, but don’t be the cause of another’s fall. Part of his warning is about the power of distraction, those siren songs that steal our attention and lead us, or others, off course.
Because the sirens are everywhere today. They come in the form of cell phones buzzing in our pockets, endless notifications and alerts. They come in the constant stream of emails, the ads that follow us around the internet, the one-click ease of ordering anything we want. The sirens sing from politicians and news outlets, from social media and streaming services, from businesses, nonprofits, even the church. Everyone wants a piece of our attention.
And the truth is, the most important decisions we make each day are about this: who, what, and where we will give our attention.
For about ten years, one of the biggest sirens in my own life was social media. It was something I looked at every single day, scrolling, clicking, giving away little pieces of my focus.
On the Feast of Epiphany this past January, I realized I wanted to direct my attention somewhere else. So I deleted all of my accounts. Just like that. And you know what? It was the best decision I’ve ever made. It felt like receiving a gift, a chunk of my attention suddenly freed up, ready to be given back to God, to my family, to you, to the things that really matter.
My exodus from social media was impulsive and severe. I’m not saying that everyone needs to run away from TikTok and Instagram. But I am saying that it’s worth taking an honest look at what you allow to capture your attention and in what ways you demand others’ attention.
If you aren’t happy with how you allocate your attention, start small. Replace one small habit with a different one. Maybe it’s making a paper list of things you need throughout the week rather than ordering them on Amazon the moment they pop into your head. Maybe it’s replacing the drink at the end of the workday with tea and biscuits so you can be more present with others in your household.
The occasions for stumbling are different for each of us and they are bound to come. We cause stumbling when we pull others off course, when we steal their attention, or when we let ourselves be pulled away from what matters most. Distraction doesn’t just hurt us. It ripples out into our families, our communities, even our church.
That’s why Jesus takes it so seriously. Guard your attention. Guard the attention of those around you. Because what you give your attention to shapes your life.
So take inventory of your life. Where is your attention going? What are your daily or weekly habits? How do you prioritize your relationship with God? With your family and friends? With your pets? With your own health and rest? Where is your attention now and where do you want it to go?
In The Odyssey, Odysseus held fast to survive the Sirens. And he did it because his community held him accountable. In the same way, we hold fast to Christ because our community holds us accountable.
This week, your attention will be pulled in a million directions. Hold fast. Give it where it matters. Your attention shapes your life.