What a Balance Beam Taught Me About an Undivided Heart
Sunday morning, the kids led worship at church. Not the polished, rehearsed kind of worship. The real kind. Little voices singing with everything they had, hands up, hearts all the way in it. You could see it on their faces. They weren’t distracted. They weren’t thinking about anything else. They were just locked in on God.
I should have taken notes from them. Because a little while later, my pastor preached a message out of Psalm 86 about an undivided heart. It was strong. It was clear. And honestly, it was exactly what I needed to hear.
And when it was over and the invitation was open to stay for prayer… I walked right past it.
I didn’t stay. I’m not even sure why. I just didn’t.
And I regretted it the rest of the day.
The Balance Beam: Learning to Keep My Focus
My pastor used an illustration that morning that I can’t shake. He talked about Simone Biles and the balance beam. A four-inch-wide beam. Four feet off the ground. And a gymnast doing flips on it like it’s a sidewalk.
How? Focus. Consistency. Gymnasts don’t stare at their feet. They focus on where they’re going. When their concentration slips, a wobble can turn into a fall. Here’s what makes that illustration hit even harder.
At the 2021 Olympics, Simone Biles, arguably the greatest gymnast who ever lived, pulled out of events because of something gymnasts call “the twisties,” a dangerous condition where your mind loses track of where your body is in the air. Even one of the most gifted athletes in the world couldn’t safely perform her usual routines when her mind and body weren’t in sync. But she didn’t stay off the beam. About a week later, she came back and won a bronze medal on it. Hold onto that. We’ll come back to it.
It’s Usually Not Rebellion. It’s Just Drift.
I’d love to tell you that when I lose focus on God, it’s because of some big dramatic sin. Most of the time, it’s not. It’s waking up and jumping straight into chores around the house. It’s getting locked in on a project. It’s scheduling appointments and making calls and checking things off a list, and before I know it the morning is gone.
And I never prayed. Never opened my devotional. Never spent a minute with my Father. Nothing exploded. Nothing went “wrong.” I just didn’t show up.
I’ve written about this before in You Can Get Everything Done and Still Miss God. Apparently, it’s a lesson I haven’t finished learning yet. And I can feel it the rest of the day.
I can tell the difference between a day I started with God and a day I didn’t. The days I pray and read just flow better. Not perfect. But steadier. When I skip it, everything feels a half-step off, like I’m walking that beam and wobbling the whole way across.
I’m convinced I’m in the top ten of imperfect Christians. I try hard every day to put the right foot forward, to follow Jesus, to be Christlike. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I fall right off the beam.
David Prayed for an Undivided Heart
Psalm 86 is labeled “A prayer of David.” Let that sink in. This is the boy who killed Goliath. The man who became king. The one God called a man after His own heart. And here he is, praying:
“Teach me your ways, O LORD, that I may live according to your truth! Grant me purity of heart, so that I may honor you.” (Psalm 86:11, NLT)
The NIV puts the request this way: “Give me an undivided heart.”
David knew his heart could split. This is the same David who took another man’s wife and tried to cover it up, hoping nobody would notice. But God noticed. God always notices.
And here’s the part I love about David. When he was confronted with his sin, he didn’t stay away from God. He turned back to Him. “Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit within me.” (Psalm 51:10, NLT)
That’s the difference. Not that David never fell. That he turned back to God and sought forgiveness. The Bible is blunt about divided loyalty. James says a person whose “loyalty is divided between God and the world” is “unstable in everything they do.” (James 1:8, NLT)
Unstable. Wobbling. Falling off the beam.
Peter Looked Down: When Our Focus Shifts From Jesus
Remember Peter walking on the water? He was doing the impossible. Walking on top of the waves toward Jesus. As long as his eyes were on Jesus, he stayed up. Then he looked around.
“But when he saw the strong wind and the waves, he was terrified and began to sink. ‘Save me, Lord!’ he shouted.” (Matthew 14:30, NLT)
The storm didn’t change. Peter’s focus did.
And notice what Jesus did next. He didn’t lecture him from a distance. “Jesus immediately reached out and grabbed him.” (Matthew 14:31, NLT)
That’s grace. You lose focus, you start to sink, and the moment you cry out, He grabs you.
Peter would fall again, much harder, when he denied even knowing Jesus. But that wasn’t the end of his story either. Jesus came close and restored him. I wrote about that moment in Jesus Doesn’t Forgive You From a Distance.
Do I Not Get It, or Am I Ignoring It?
That Sunday night, I had to ask myself a hard question. If I keep falling off this same beam, over and over, what’s going on? Do I just not get it? Or am I ignoring it?
Because if I’m ignoring it, that bothers me. And it needs to change. Now.
Here’s the honest answer I’m coming to. I get it. I know why time with God matters. I feel the difference when I skip it. But knowing that and actually making it a priority are two different things.
I don’t believe I’m turning my back on God. But I can’t keep blaming a busy morning every time I miss time with Him, either. My routine holds on normal days. It breaks on the days that don’t go according to plan. A chores morning. An appointment. Something unexpected. And too often, time with God is the first thing I let slip.
That’s what has to change. Not just my routine. How much I’m willing to protect that time.
I’m not the first one to wrestle with this. The apostle Paul wrote, “I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate.” (Romans 7:15, NLT)
Paul. The man God used to write so much of the New Testament. He was wrestling with something deeper than a skipped prayer time. But I know that pull. Knowing what’s right and still not doing it.
Fighting the same battle on and off isn’t proof you’re failing. Quitting the fight would be.
Getting Back on the Beam: Making Time for God Every Day
Gymnasts fall. Even the great ones. Simone Biles stepped away from the biggest stage in the world, and then she climbed back on the beam. But here’s the part I missed at first.
When she came back, she didn’t force herself into the same routine and hope for the best. She changed her dismount to something safer. She made an adjustment.
“The godly may trip seven times, but they will get up again.” (Proverbs 24:16, NLT)
So I’m not going to try harder. I’m going to make it harder to skip.
No first sip of coffee until I’ve prayed. Even if it’s two minutes. If the morning gets away from me, I pray in the truck or during the first chore.
A short prayer beats no prayer. And I’m setting a reminder on my phone for noon that just says “Psalm 86:11.”
If I missed the morning, that’s my second chance. Not a failed day. None of that is about checking a box. It’s about keeping my eyes where they belong when life starts pulling them somewhere else.
“We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith.” (Hebrews 12:2, NLT)
Not my feet. Not the wind. Not the to-do list. Jesus.
Next Sunday: Choosing an Undivided Heart
Funny thing. That Sunday morning, I pulled an older post from the archives, “When You Don’t Know How to Pray, Pray Anyway,” and the sermon landed right on it. God keeps doing that.
But here’s what I’m realizing. I don’t have to wait until next Sunday to respond to what God showed me. I can turn back to Him right now.
And next Sunday, when that invitation for prayer comes, I’m staying.
A Prayer for an Undivided Heart
Lord, give me an undivided heart. Teach me to keep my eyes on You, not on everything pulling at me. When I drift, pull me back. When I fall, help me get back up. And thank You for being so ready to forgive. Amen.
Where does your focus drift first: the busyness, the worry, or the noise? Tell me in the comments. I’ll be praying for you.
