The theology of attention invites believers to consider focus itself as a sacred act. In Christian thought, attention is never neutral. It shapes the heart, forms character, and determines what or whom we ultimately worship. Scripture repeatedly calls God’s people to direct their gaze rightly: “Fix your eyes on Jesus” (Hebrews 12:2), “Set your minds on things above” (Colossians 3:2), and the repeated command to “listen” and “hear” what the Spirit says to the churches. Attention, in this light, becomes a form of prayer, love, and obedience. It counters distraction, idolatry, and the fragmentation of modern life. A theology of attention recognizes that where we place our sustained focus reveals our true loves and opens the possibility of transformation by the object of that focus.
The video series , The Chosen*offers a remarkable contemporary canvas for exploring this theology. Created by Dallas Jenkins and a collaborative team, the show presents the life of Jesus and his earliest followers through intimate, character-driven storytelling across multiple seasons. Rather than rushing through familiar miracle narratives or sermon summaries, The Chosen lingers with people. It devotes time to the backstories, doubts, failures, and small daily moments of those who encountered Christ. In doing so, the series itself models and cultivates a particular way of paying attention that carries deep theological weight.
At its heart, The Chosen recovers the incarnational reality that God attends to individuals with exquisite care. The God of the Bible is not a distant cosmic force but one who notices the overlooked: the tax collector and his world , the woman at the well at noon, the paralyzed man lowered through a roof. Jesus repeatedly sees people whom others ignore or dismiss. The series dramatizes this divine attention through quiet scenes where Jesus remembering a child’s name from a previous encounter, noticing the exhaustion on a disciple’s face, or pausing to heal someone while crowds press in. These moments echo the theological truth that God’s attention is personal, patient, and redemptive. It calls forth dignity and possibility in those who receive it.
Viewers are invited to imitate this divine pattern. By investing hours in the inner lives of Simon Peter, Matthew, Mary Magdalene, and others, audiences practice sustained attention on flawed human beings made in God’s image. This counters the shallow, algorithmic attention economy that dominates contemporary media. Most streaming content rewards scrolling and quick emotional hits. The Chosen, by contrast, rewards patience. Its long arcs, subtle character development, and willingness to let conversations breathe trained viewers in a slower, more charitable gaze. Theological tradition has long held that charity begins with seeing rightly. As Simone Weil observed, attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity. Attention to me is love . The series becomes a school that educated us learn generosity and love .
The show also explores the costly nature of attending to Jesus. Following Him demands the reorientation of one’s entire attention. For Matthew, it means leaving the security of Roman collaboration and facing social ostracism. For Simon, it involves surrendering his vision of a militant messiah. The series does not sentimentalize discipleship; it shows the discomfort, disruption, and delight of having one’s focus forcibly shifted from self, status, or safety toward the person of Christ. This mirrors classic spiritual theology. In the tradition of figures like John of the Cross or Ignatius of Loyola, true formation requires detachment from lesser objects of attention so that the soul can cleave to God. The Chosen makes this process narratively visible and emotionally accessible without reducing it to simplistic formulas.
Moreover, the series highlights communal dimensions of attention. The disciples learn to attend to one another under Jesus’ guidance bearing with one another’s weaknesses, celebrating small victories, and speaking truth in love. This reflects the theological conviction that the Church is a community of mutual attention, where members “look not only to [their] own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:4). In an age of individualized spirituality and echo-chamber isolation, The Chosen portrays the messiness and beauty of shared focus and attention on Christ. Even the show’s production model crowdfunded and created with input from diverse Christian traditions embodies a form of ecclesial attention, seeking unity amid difference by keeping Jesus at the center.
A particularly rich theological motif in the series is the interplay between human frailty and divine attentiveness. Characters repeatedly fail, misunderstand, or drift. Yet Jesus continues to notice them, call them by name, and restore their focus. This resonates with the doctrine of grace: God’s initiative precedes and sustains our ability to attend to Him. The famous scene of Jesus calling Matthew or healing the paralytic dramatizes prevenient grace not as abstract theology but as a look of love that interrupts cycles of shame and self-destruction. Attention, the series suggests, is both gift and response. We attend because we have first been attended to by the Good Shepherd who searches for the lost.
Critics sometimes worry that dramatizing Scripture risks distortion. Yet I feel that the Chosen’s creative liberties , grounded in extensive biblical and historical research, serve the larger purpose of directing attention toward the Jesus of the Gospels rather than away from Him. By humanizing the disciples, the show helps modern viewers see themselves in the story, overcoming the distancing effect of centuries. This pastoral strategy echoes the approach of the Gospel writers themselves, who presented the good news through particular, embodied lives. Maybe the series has become a modern extension of that incarnational method using art to arouse holy attention.
In a distracted age, The Chosen functions as a countercultural spiritual exercise. It invites viewers to practice the ancient disciplines of watching and waiting. Families and small groups often watch episodes together and discuss them, turning entertainment into catechesis. Many report renewed interest in Scripture, deeper prayer lives, and fresh compassion for others after immersing themselves in the world of the show. These fruits suggest that the series participates in the Spirit’s work of forming attention toward Christlikeness.
Ultimately, the theology of attention revealed through The Chosen calls believers to examine their own gaze. What or whom do we fix our eyes upon in daily life? The series does not merely tell stories about Jesus; it trains us in the kind of seeing that makes discipleship possible. In a world engineered to fragment focus for profit or power, this artistic endeavor reminds us that sustained, loving attention remains a powerful pathway to encountering the living God. As we watch Jesus attentively loving the imperfect people around Him, we are invited to receive that same loving look and learn to extend it to others. In this way, popular media can serve the ancient call to “be transformed by the renewing of [our] minds” (Romans 12:2), one focused. It is an invitation to put on faithful look at a time.
