My Eyes are the Boss of Me

They say the eyes are the window to the soul.

But mine? They’re more like store closing signs—loud, persuasive, and always dragging me somewhere I wasn’t planning to go.

Case in point: I was just minding my own business, on a perfectly reasonable errand, when I saw a literal sign:
“STORE CLOSING. EVERYTHING MUST GO.”
Big. Red. Urgent. (And, oh my gosh! What?!)

I wasn’t planning on stopping.
I didn’t need anything.
I had a list—and Joann’s wasn’t on it.

But my eyes locked on that sign,
and my car just sort of… turned.

Before I knew it, I was pushing a cart full of discounted fabric, fake succulents, and supplies for crafts I’m pretty sure I’ll never make. My brain said, “No, no, no!” but my eyes had already said “Yes!” And it turns out that was the vote that counted.

We don’t talk about our eyes enough—not spiritually and definitely not neurologically. But the truth is, your eyes don’t just see your reality. They shape it.

My eyes often tell me where to go. And the more often they pull me in a certain direction, the easier it gets to go there. That’s not just a spiritual idea—it’s a neurological one. What you focus on, glance at, scan, or avoid—those small choices forge the neural paths your thoughts travel most easily. They build the grooves of habit, reaction, and identity you call home.

Eyes Build Pathways

Every time I roll my eyes in annoyance at someone, my brain makes a note: “Disregard them. They’re irritating.” Neurologically, that little roll cements contempt. Do it often enough, and it becomes instinct. It doesn’t stop me from hearing them—it just makes it easier not to care. It cements my negative view of them, hardens my heart a little, and quietly builds division.

Even side-eyeing someone in judgment sends a signal: “This person is a threat to your image, your control, your peace.” My eyes flicker, but my soul absorbs.

Or take squinting—something I do when I’m anxious or uncertain. It’s subtle, but it mirrors what’s happening inside: doubt, guardedness, self-protection. The brain registers the tension, and it reinforces the idea: This is not safe. Don’t relax. Be suspicious. Be careful. It’s not just a look. It’s a lock.

Sometimes, I don’t even know what I’m feeling until I notice what my eyes are doing. Are they wide with wonder? Narrowed with fear? Wandering in distraction? Fixed in comparison? Do they harden when someone walks in the room? Do they flinch when I look in the mirror?

The truth is, my eyes don’t just reflect my emotions—they reinforce them.

The Spiritual Side of Seeing

This isn’t a new concept. Even the ancients were reading about it in the Bible. It talks about eyes as much as a Democrat talks about a Republican—not casually, but critically, as if what you see might just shape what you believe, who you follow, and where you’re headed.

It describes haughty eyes (Prov. 6:17), mocking eyes (Proverbs 30:17). Eyes that lust (Matthew 5:28), envy (Matthew 20:15 ), drift (Psalm 119:37), and harden (Matthew 13:15). There’s a reason God keeps bringing them up—because the eyes are where our affections begin to shift. Not through the hands. Not through the mouth. But through a glance.

The direction of your gaze reveals the posture of your soul.

Jesus said, “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness.” (Matthew 6:22–23) He wasn’t talking about eyesight. He was talking about outlook. Attention. Desire. Focus. Direction.

Back in the day, a lamp wasn’t just for ambiance—it was directional. You held it out in front of you to see where to go. So when Jesus called the eye a “lamp,” He wasn’t just talking about inner brightness—He was talking about guidance. Your eyes determine where you walk, what you absorb, and how you move through the world.

My Eyes Hired Me—And I Never Applied

And maybe that’s the most haunting part: most of us have let our eyes boss us around without even realizing it. They’ve conditioned contempt, practiced judgment, scanned for flaws, and tracked threats. And our brains have gone along for the ride, carving the trails of bitterness, impatience, and resentment we now walk without even thinking.

What If We Were the Boss of Our Eyes?

What if spiritual transformation isn’t just about changing your mind but redirecting your gaze?

What if you trained your eyes to linger on beauty longer than fear?

What if you practiced looking people in the eyes with curiosity instead of criticism?

What if you paid attention to where your eyes go when you feel shame—and gently taught them to look up?

Our healing may just begin with the eyes. Because what the eyes behold, the soul fills with. And I want my soul full of light, not contempt. Full of wonder, not worry. Full of grace, not guardedness.

So I’m watching my eyes now. Not to shame them—but to shape them. Because where they go, I tend to follow.

And I want to follow the Light.

P.S. If you’re craving a lighter way of seeing and living—
I just launched our new 31-day devotional called Weightless.

It’s for the ones whose eyes scan for what could go wrong.
Who plan, predict, and prepare for everything—just in case.

The first 5 days are posted free on the Weightless tab at the top of my website, but if you want the entire thing, you can pay to subscribe for just $8 a month and join the book-a-month club, or cancel at any time

Come find the peace that comes when your gaze lifts off the chaos,
and locks onto Christ.

You can lock in your paid subscription on any of these entries! Simply click a link below, then look for the subscribe button on that entry and click it.

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