Caring More About Fewer Things

I saw someone say recently, “The world is an ugly place right now.”

I’ve had versions of that conversation more times than I can count lately. And honestly, I don’t always disagree with the statement. There’s plenty of evidence to support it.

But I’ve found myself thinking less about whether the world is ugly—and more about why it feels so overwhelmingly dark.

I wonder how much of that darkness is amplified because we are constantly inundated with situations where we have no space, proximity, or power to bring beauty. We’re exposed—daily—to problems we cannot touch, fix, influence, or meaningfully engage. And the inability to see change in places that desperately need it slowly produces a quiet hopelessness.

Over time, that hopelessness begins to bleed.

If this can’t change… maybe nothing can.
If that feels unfixable… maybe everything is.

And before we realize it, we’re oriented to believe that every situation is hopeless—and that beauty and light are either rare or impossible to find and retain.

So let me say this clearly:

I want to give you permission to care more about fewer things, so you can bring beauty and light to the places where you actually have proximity and power to make an impact.

When everything demands your concern, nothing receives your care. And when your attention is endlessly scattered across situations you cannot influence, weariness takes root in places hope was never meant to leave.

Scripture gives language to this posture. In Galatians 6, we’re reminded not to grow weary in doing good—and that doing good is tied to opportunity:

“Let us not grow weary of doing good… Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all.”

That’s not a call to indifference.
It’s an invitation to discernment.

Faithfulness has always been practiced locally—where your presence matters, where your obedience can take shape, and where your care can actually lift burdens and raise sails.

I’m not suggesting we bury our heads in the sand.
I’m not saying ignore injustice, avoid hard realities, or pretend evil doesn’t exist.

But I am wondering what it would look like to steward hope more intentionally—to invest deeply in the places where God has given you responsibility, relationship, and reach.

Because the world doesn’t become less dark when we carry everything.
It becomes brighter when we bring light where we actually stand.

If nothing else, consider this permission today:

You don’t have to hold the weight of everything from everywhere.
You are allowed to care deeply where you have influence.
And choosing to care more about fewer things—on purpose—may be one of the most faithful decisions you can make in this season.