How hyper-consumption and distraction are robbing us of spiritual formation.
Our access is unlimited. We can learn almost anything we want. We can travel. We can teach ourselves how to do anything by watching videos.
Our phones run out of storage because of how much time we spend on them.
The problem, though, isn’t just access to information; it’s information overload at the cost of spiritual formation.
How much of our time is spent consuming content while we sit still?
We watch, read, laugh, and get angry all within 30 seconds.
A time has come when we must decide if we will continue to allow the seductive lure of information to consume us, divide us, and enslave us.
I wish to say that the algorithms that dictate our content are neutral. I believed for a time that they were. I believed that the algorithms were just designed to keep us engaged. And they are. But there is something more.
I’ve come to see a darker, intentional spirit operating behind our screens. It flows from the hearts of those in charge of them.
The abundance of the heart yields the fruit of the tongue and works of the hands.
We have billions of dollars dedicated to keeping you addicted. These companies have paid billions in fines because it has been proven they are operating in bad faith. It’s not passive. It’s active.
And I fear it’s robbing us more profoundly than we realise. I fear that forces behind this digital landscape are like the dementors from Harry Potter. Preying on weak minds, sucking the life out of us through distraction and coveting and stealing our attention.
You are seen as a resource to be exploited. And we keep yielding our hearts and minds to it day after day after day.
We are being fed, conveniently, the idea that all of this technological advancement is inevitable. AI is here to stay. So sign your rights away. Sign your mind away. Sign your freedoms away. Sign your critical thinking away. The (false) promise in return? Progress. Ease. Efficiency.
But these things are the antithesis to what we learn about in the Bible.
The bible tells stories of long suffering. Endurance. Grace. Resilient faith that grows roots in seasons of hardship.
We can’t have it both ways, dear one.
We cannot forgo the path to formation and expect (or demand) the fruit of formation.
We cannot simultaneously pursue the path of ease and comfort, while also embarking on the path of formation. We must pick one. We must choose one.
Remember the parable of the narrow road. This world is ushering us down a highway filled with thousands of cars and people, much like cattle. The pace is unsustainable, by design. Intentionally crafted to maximise profit without care. We are increasing speed at a radical pace. But there is another way.
A less visible path. The one that takes us by the River of life. The Land of Healing. Where the presence of God leads us by still waters.
Open your eyes to see that there is more at work here behind your screen. There are forces, both natural and spiritual, luring you into a realm of darkness, confusion, and chaos. In this place, you aren’t loved but are seen as expendable, and are a product to be consumed by the highest bidder.
There is a spirit of fear and slavery determined to entangle the minds and hearts of God’s people. To keep them angry. Distracted. Divided. But we don’t have to engage.
My prayer is that a holy defiance would rise in this generation. And that it would spark a breaking away from captivity.
We were created by God, in the image of God, to bring glory to God. We are children of Freedom. We are children of God.
My prayer is that the blind would see. The deaf would hear. And that the captives would be set free in Jesus’ name.
The Road Not Taken
1874 –1963
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.