Putting God First in the Time We Already Have

Putting God first can begin quietly, before the day starts moving.

I was in Confession, and as I started naming my sins, the first one I confessed was the one I always seemed to bring with me. I told Father I had sinned against the First Commandment. Since my last confession, I had put myself before God.

That did not mean I had stopped believing in God. I had not denied the faith. I had not bowed down before some statue or claimed there were other gods. But I knew what I meant. I had spent too much time letting my wants, my plans, my comfort, my worries, and my schedule take first place. I had believed in God, but I had not always lived like He was first.

The First Commandment can feel like one of the easier ones at first. “I, the LORD, am your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, that place of slavery. You shall not have other gods beside me.” (Exodus 20:2-3)

Most of us hear that and think, I’ve got that one. I believe in one God. I go to Mass. I believe in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I am not worshiping some false god. No golden calf in my life.

But then I started asking a harder question. What counts as another god?

Because another god is not only something carved out of stone or gold. Another god can be anything I place before the Lord. It can be money. It can be comfort. It can be work. It can be sports. It could be my phone. It can be my pride. It can be my need to be right. It can even be myself.

Any time I put myself before God, I am giving first place to someone who does not belong there.

That does not mean the other things in life are bad. Work matters. Family matters. Rest matters. Our children, our duties, our health, our friendships, and our homes all matter. But they are not meant to become the center. They are meant to be ordered under God. When God is first, everything else finds its proper place. When I am first, everything starts bending toward me.

That brings me back to a sermon I heard once about the number ‘168.’

There are 168 hours in a week. That sounds like a lot until you start spending them.

A normal work week is around 40 hours. If we actually got the recommended 8 hours of sleep each night, that would be another 56 hours. That already brings us to 96 hours. Then come meals, driving, school drop off, homework, sports, errands, chores, appointments, bills, messages, laundry, scrolling, television, and all the little things that fill up a week before we even notice.

And somewhere in there, many of us only give God one hour.

Maybe.

And even that one hour can be divided.

I know because I have done it. I have sat in the pew while my mind was somewhere else. I have stood for the Gospel while thinking about work. I have knelt after Communion and realized I was already planning the rest of the day. I have shown up tired, distracted, and half present before the Lord who was fully present for me.

That is not something I say to shame anyone. It is something I say because it is true in me.

The Church gives us the Sunday obligation, not because one hour is all God deserves, but because worship is so important that love needs a foundation. Sunday Mass is not a timecard we punch for heaven. It is the center of the week. It is where we hear the Word, join ourselves to Christ’s sacrifice, receive His Body and Blood, and remember who we are.

But if that one hour does not touch the other 167, then something is wrong.

That is where the First Commandment starts reaching into daily life. God does not want one corner of my calendar. He wants my heart. He wants first place, not because He is needy, but because He knows I am lost when anything else takes His place.

Jesus says it clearly: “You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.” (Matthew 22:37)

All your heart. All your soul. All your mind.

That does not sound like one hour on Sunday while the rest of the week belongs to me. It sounds like a whole life slowly learning how to belong to Him.

So maybe the question is not only whether I went to Mass. Maybe the question is whether I brought God into Monday. Did I wake up with His name on my tongue, or did I reach for my phone first? Did I pray before work, even for a minute? Did I thank Him before eating, or did I rush through another meal like everything came from my own hands?

Did I talk to Him in the car? Did I ask for patience before a hard conversation? Did I thank Him when something went right? Did I bring Him the stress when something went wrong? Did I stop by Adoration, even for a few quiet minutes?

And what about Mass itself? Did I stay after Mass long enough to thank Jesus for coming to me? Did I arrive early enough to prepare my heart, or did I slide in late and leave before the blessing because I wanted to beat the brunch rush?

Those questions are uncomfortable because they are not really about time. They are about love.

We make time for what we love. Maybe not perfectly. Maybe not as much as we want. But we do make time. If something matters to us, we find a way to fit it in. We check the score. We answer the text. We watch the episode. We scroll. We plan. We show up.

So why does prayer feel so easy to push aside?

I think part of it is that we sometimes make prayer too big in our minds. We think if we cannot give God an hour, then we give Him nothing. But maybe the Lord is asking us to start smaller and more honestly.

Start with the first minute of the day. Before the phone, before the news, before the coffee, before the list starts running through your head, just whisper, “Jesus, I give You this day.” That is a beginning.

Then give Him the drive. Turn off the radio for five minutes. Pray a decade of the Rosary. Say the Our Father slowly, reflecting on every word. Talk to Him like He is sitting beside you, because He is.

Give Him your meals. Not just a rushed Sign of the Cross, but real thanks. “Lord, thank You for this food. Thank You for the hands that prepared it. Thank You for providing for us.”

Give Him the workday. Before opening the first email or answering the first call, ask the Holy Spirit to guide your words. Ask for patience. Ask for wisdom. Ask to serve the person in front of you.

Give Him the end of the day. Before sleep, look back with Him. Where did I love well? Where did I fail? Where did You help me and I missed it? Then thank Him for staying with you through all of it.

That is how the other 167 begin to change. Not all at once. Not by turning life into a monastery. Not by pretending we do not have jobs, kids, bills, practices, laundry, and tired bodies. But by inviting God into the hours we already have.

That is what I needed to hear in Confession. I do not need to wait until I have a perfect schedule to put God first. I need to start putting Him first inside the schedule I already live.

The First Commandment is not only a warning against false gods. It is an invitation to freedom. When God is first, I do not have to be. I do not have to carry the whole week like it depends on me. I do not have to worship my own control, my own comfort, or my own plans. I can let God be God, and I can learn to live like I belong to Him.

A week has 168 hours. They will pass whether I notice them or not. The question is not whether I had time for God. The question is whether I gave Him first place in the time I already had.

Maybe this week, I do not need to start by promising Him every hour. Maybe I start by giving Him the first one. The first thought. The first word. The first thank you. The first place in my heart.

Because when God becomes first, the other 167 begin to look different too.