What Do You Want?

What do you want most in life? It's a question we rarely pause to consider deeply. We're busy chasing countless things—security, success, comfort, recognition. But what if we're missing the forest for the trees? What if there's one essential thing that, when prioritized, brings everything else into proper perspective?

Psalm 27 offers a radical answer to this question. Written during a season of intense pressure and danger, this ancient prayer reveals a truth that challenges our modern sensibilities: the most important thing we can desire is God's presence.

When the Pressure Is On

The psalmist wasn't composing poetry from a comfortable throne room. He wrote these words when enemies surrounded him, when armies had encamped against him, when the pressure was unmistakably on. We all know what pressure feels like—the medical report that didn't come back clean, the bank account that's dwindling faster than expected, the relationships that are fraying, the world that seems to be spiraling out of control.

Yet in the midst of crisis, the psalmist declares: "The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life. Of whom shall I be afraid?"

This isn't denial or toxic positivity. It's a declaration rooted in personal experience. Notice the intimacy of the language—"my light," "my salvation," "my strength." It's wonderful when the church is a light for us, when friends and family illuminate our path. But as the saying goes, "Mama may have, and Papa may have, but God bless the child that's got his own."

You need your own light. I need my own light. When the world gets gloomy, when opposition rises, when forces try to rob us of peace and joy, we must have a personal connection to the Source.

The One Thing Strategy

Here's where the psalm gets really interesting. Amidst all his troubles—fighting, working, managing, handling multiple crises—the psalmist implements what we might call a "one thing strategy."

Consider your to-do list right now. How many items are competing for your attention? Ten? Twenty? Fifty? Now imagine paring it all down to one essential priority. That's exactly what we find in verse four:

"One thing have I desired from the Lord, and that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord and to meditate in the Lord's temple."

Wait—didn't the psalmist ask for multiple things throughout this prayer? He asked for grace, for teaching, for deliverance. So why does he say "one thing"?

The word "one" here reflects not quantity but priority. It's not that other requests don't matter. It's that this sits on top. Everything else is secondary. The presence of God is the non-negotiable, the foundation upon which everything else rests.

Think about the difference between wanting the golden goose and wanting golden eggs. If you chase after eggs, what happens when they run out? But if you have the goose—if you have the Giver rather than just the gifts—you have access to everything you need.

The psalmist essentially prays: "Take my house, take my possessions, take everything away from me, but don't take Your presence away from me."

Fearless in the Storm

This priority creates an unexpected result: fearlessness. "Though a host encamps against me, my heart will not fear."

How is this possible? The basis for this fearlessness isn't deliverance—it's God's presence. Past deliverances give confidence, yes, but it's the assurance of God's presence that sustains us in the present moment.

This echoes that famous line from Psalm 23: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Why? Because thou art with me."

The promise isn't that we'll avoid the valley. The promise is that we won't walk through it alone. That's what transforms fear into confidence—not the absence of danger, but the presence of God.

Three Signs of True Desire

So how do we know if we've made God's presence our top priority? According to Psalm 27, three things will show up in our lives: praise, prayer, and patience.

First, praise. Those who desire God above all have an irresistible urge to praise. Not grudging obligation, not going through motions, but genuine joy. Why would you drag yourself out of a warm bed on a Sunday morning, get dressed, and drive to church just to be grumpy? You could do that at home! We come together not to wear gloomy faces but to fill our tanks with joy and energy for the week ahead.

Second, prayer. If fellowship with God is our priority, we spend time with God. Not just formal, ritualistic prayer, but setting aside time to meditate, to focus, to concentrate on the divine. Through this process, we gain insights on how to be more loving, more caring, more understanding, more compassionate in the world. Our vertical relationship with God informs our horizontal relationships with people. If all our praying isn't helping us treat others better, something's wrong.

Third, patience. This one challenges our instant-gratification culture. Wait? Really? In an age of same-day delivery and instant streaming, patience feels almost countercultural. But biblical waiting isn't just killing time—it's being bound together with the divine. It takes courage to wait. And the promise is worth it: "I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of God in the land of the living."

Don't Die in the Valley

That last phrase is crucial: "in the land of the living." We might be in a valley right now. We might feel surrounded by enemies. We might be facing years of difficulty ahead. So what's the message?

Don't die in the valley. Don't give up in the valley. Why? Because we will see the goodness of God. Someone will see the goodness of God in you. Someone will see the goodness of God in me. The goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

The question remains: What is your one thing? What is the priority that sits above all others? When the pressure is on, when enemies surround you, when the world feels dark—what light do you turn to?

May we all discover the freedom that comes from seeking first the presence of God, knowing that everything else will find its proper place when we get the one thing right.