If you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, you know I’ve always had a complicated relationship with technology. Years ago I noticed my students becoming less human and more machine, unable to go anywhere without cords and chargers. The first thing they’d ask me for upon entering my home was the code to my wifi. Social anxiety was everywhere, and instead of engaging the physical world around them, they were retreating into the virtual ones they created. While it would’ve been easy for me judge (and I certainly did in some cases), I think I was mostly just scared. Scared of what it meant for me, for them, future generations, etc.
For better or worse, my response was to go pendulum swing the opposite way. When I first got my iPhone, I refused to take it off airplane mode before 8 AM. When I saw the way we became too busy posting about the moment at hand to actually enjoy it, I vowed to never post pictures from an event as it was happening. When I saw how everything in our lives was becoming public knowledge, I intentionally chose not to advertise certain aspects of my life. And when I realized nothing good happens after a certain hour, I stopped checking Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter after 8 PM.
Since then I’ve removed the majority of notifications from my phone, committed to keeping it facedown at meals and in meetings, reserved Sabbaths as screen-free days, and even began a regular practice of taking an entire week off major social media channels to pray and detox. Often these weeks are so freeing, I’ll extend my absence for another week. Eventually, I began to wonder: what if I took the whole year off social media? I became excited about the possibility even as I doubted its feasibility.
It’s not that social media is bad. It just doesn’t come without its liabilities. Cal Newport hits the nail on the head in Digital Minimalism. Not only has technology become addictive, but unrestricted online activity has taken a toll on our psychological wellbeing. Online exchanges have become so emotionally charged and polarized, we struggle to relate to each other. This isn’t just true in some theoretical sense. I’ve felt it in my own life.
Thoreau went to the woods to live deliberately. I left social media to discern what’s real. To find where wokeness ends and Babylon begins and see if, in doing so, I could regain a sense of self.
I left because there are conversations happening online that seem completely divorced from real life. Because the more I tended my virtual life, the more it detracted from my real one. Because twitter shouldn’t be able to ruin your whole day. Because my feed was no longer things that I liked but things that you liked (whether I liked them or not). Because of the echo chamber and the sense of obligation that comes with having some sort of platform. Because EVERYONE now has a platform. Because the more friends and followers I acquired, the less free I felt to post. Because if you didn’t like my post, then it must not have been great and therefore should be taken down. Because I couldn’t tell if I was genuinely mad at something or if I simply thought I should be because everyone else was.
As usual, it started with a weeklong fast that turned into a two-week break. But this time that two-week break turned into a monthlong hiatus. Now it’s been nearly two months and I no longer miss it. It’s been nice to not care about what people are saying on twitter, who ate what on Instagram, and to realize that if I want to share something actually matters with those I love, I can always send a text message.
Interestingly enough though, sometime in the month of January, I had a sense that retreating from social media wasn’t the answer. If Jesus were to have social media, he would engage it differently. This then begs the question of what it means to be on social media but not of social media. I don’t know if I have an answer for that. But until then, I’d like some space to think it out.
What I will say is this: taking a break from major social media channels doesn’t mean that you don’t find other ways to fill the time. Zillow has become my new Instagram. But also, the beauty of social media is that you’re able to keep up with friends from all over the world. Your heart grows and expands even as you become aware of global issues. Your faith in humanity does occasionally increase through common experiences of kindness and laughter. The question is how you do get that without it wreaking havoc on your soul. How do you get the benefits without opening yourself to the negatives? Or, is it the presence of the negatives that make the positives possible? Once again, I don’t know. But I’d like to have some space to think about it.
Some of you are probably thinking I’m simply escaping one reality for another. Why not go all the way and not have a phone? I haven’t cut out YouTube or Goodreads. Aren’t those also social media platforms? You might be right.
So far, I’ve found that what’s in front of me is real. My wife and my marriage are real. The work I do, the people we serve, and the injustices they fight are real. My gym and the people I’m trying to love in it are real. The latest #fitspo page is not real.
All this to say, I don’t think I’ll be off social media forever. I’ll probably be on before the end of the year. But for now, I’m enjoying the silence. You can text, call, or email me (any comments on this blog should probably be posted here). You can even follow what I’m reading on Goodreads. But until then, if you haven’t seen me lately, this is why.























