On antisocial media

I just spent the last hour doing two things: reading and responding to social media posts, and playing Farm Heroes Saga, and the most productive (and least depressing) activity was hands down the second one. Here it is, Saturday morning in the mountains, a gorgeous late August day, sun shining, after a good night's sleep in our beautiful home, and my eyes are brimming with tears out of sadness, frustration, and a sense of hopelessness all because of what I have ingested online. And I am ashamed--ashamed because I let it get to me, ashamed that I have not even prayed let alone open my Bible, ashamed at the excuses I make to rationalize every moment I spend scrolling through posts and comments and memes and photos. "I like to keep up with what's going on in my friends' lives," "I only use FaceBook for seeing and sharing photos of my grandkids," "I need the platform to promote the charity I endorse and volunteer for," "How else can I find out what is happening in my community and how I can help?," and "I only follow people, groups and blogs that are not antithetical to my beliefs and values."  For the past three years I have fooled myself into believing I can use social media for good; that I can control my tongue, sit on my hands, and refrain from snarky comments; and that in no way will any social media platform affect my mood or impact the state of my soul. Yet here I am, blogging about just that.

Sure, I have tried to minimize my exposure to negativity by unfollowing people who post inflammatory memes and comments, by ignoring the algorithm-generated newsfeed and pages, by blocking the trolls who have nothing better to do than stir the pot, and by leaving those groups bent on divisiveness. And when I do open up my computer and click on that FaceBook bookmark, I tell myself I am only checking the status of an item I posted for sale, or a request for volunteers for St Baldrick's. Who am I kidding? Not myself, and least of all God. Five, ten, thirty, ninety minutes later, I find myself no wiser, and, worst of all, I realize I have not even remotely represented Christ, shared my faith, or spread the Good News. Every post I submit, every comment I make, every photo I share, deep down I am looking for approval, and weighing my sense of worth on how many positive emojis I garner. When I think I am posting or sharing something out of love for others, when I really peel it back, I am looking for affirmation.  I intentionally seek out groups and "friends" who think the same way I do, and who will give me that sought-after thumbs up, or better yet, a heart. In person I almost NEVER share my thoughts on a subject or my opinion with strangers; in fact, I am quite introverted around people I do not know, only offering basic social courtesies--a handshake, a hello, a smile. I shrink from engaging in debates and conversations in groups unless I know each and every person, and even then, I tend to keep my thoughts to myself (even if I do roll my eyes) 🙄. But, put me behind a screen and the veil is off, safe behind the anonymity of a keyboard.

If something I wear makes me itch, or is uncomfortable, I don't wear it--I either toss it or donate it. When I am driving down the road and a song comes on that I hate, I change the station or turn off the radio. If it is too hot, I turn on the a/c; too cold, I put on a sweater or turn up the heat. When confronted with something I know is evil and wrong and against God's law, I avoid it. But I have allowed the poison of anti-social media to seep into my heart and into my soul, and it is robbing me of my present--I cannot enjoy the world in front of me, all around me, if I am engaged with the false reality of what is on the internet's social media sites. I become trapped in the filth and the depression and the neediness of the world, and I want to fix it and help and respond to every single thing. Floods, cancer, deaths, bombings, hurricanes--it all pulls at my heart. Looking down at what is on my computer or my phone keeps me from looking up and around at what is going on in my home, my family, my community. Even now as I type this, I am being drawn to open another tab in my browser and click on that FaceBook icon, to check if anyone I know posted a photo, to see what local groups are heralding as newsworthy. As if there is anything newsworthy on a website that caters to, no, promotes, divisiveness and the tribal mentality of “if you don’t agree with everything I say and do, then you are my enemy”. Social media is no longer social or sociable, and it never was courteous; instead, FaceBook, Twitter, TikTok, and their ilk, while they seemingly began as online gathering places for sharing funny cat videos and opinions and as a way to “meet” people, are now just giant echo chambers.

Four years ago I extricated myself from the vacuous, rabble-rousing, and one-sided 24-hour news stations where talking heads droned on ad nauseum about anything and everything. News—HA!—as if the mainstream media provide anything news worthy without burdening viewers with their opinions.  I have not missed anything, either; the world hasn’t stopped turning on its axis and the sun still does come up in the east. As for FaceBook, perhaps it is time to take a break, maybe even close my account, and stop making excuses for the time I waste in virtual reality, to quit justifying my social media presence; I don't really need to know what my 487 "friends" are eating or doing or wearing or thinking. Instead, I should be focusing on what my immediate family and neighbors are doing and thinking, and spending time with real people, getting real hugs, and sharing their very real joys and sorrows. Bottom line: If it neither edifies people or glorifies God, it is not worth the time. 

Hidden Idols

Close your eyes, think of the word "idol," and what do you see? Statues? Golden calf? A tv program? Charleton Heston as Moses in The Ten Commandments? Possibly you can think a bit more abstractly, and, expanding the definition of the word, you think of beauty, sex, the internet, cell phones, food, work. But what really is an idol? Webster defines idolatry as "the worship of or excessive devotion to, or reverence for, some person or thing (the idol).” Biblically, at its core, an idol is anything that replaces God as a central point in our lives. 

I've smugly thought I have no idols...I don't put bowls of rice in front of wooden statues, or worship trees. I read my Bible, pray, support missions, and go to church, and am making a concerted effort in growing my faith, using His Word as a blueprint for my life, my choices, my thoughts, my values. I know I am a sinner, and I am painfully aware every single day how much I do not deserve heaven, that only by God's infinite and merciful grace through the sacrifice of His Son will I make it there. I don't see myself as secular or worldly--idols are what those people have, not me! Ha! Right! Read on...

I opened my bookcase this weekend and perused the titles on the shelves, especially the plethora of books I bought at a women's conference I attended this spring (all with the good intention of reading them as soon as I got home). One title grabbed my attention; I pulled it partially out, then hesitated, pushing it back in place. The title, "Idols of the Heart," made me uncomfortable--that little prick from the Holy Spirit, I guess--so I picked it up and began reading. Seriously, though, the last thing I wanted was to delve into something that would identify yet another list of inadequacies and failures as a Christian. But, no pain, no gain, right? 

Within the first few pages, I knew I made the right choice; the author, Elyse Fitzpatrick, is brutally honest concerning her own idols, and relates her own journey to identifying them. What I expected was another book bemoaning the evils of cell phones, reality TV, and the internet, all things I could easily dismiss as not really a problem for me; I'm well aware of the potential for these distractions to interfere with my relationship with God. What I got was far more; by the third page of the first chapter I realized that I, like Elyse, put my trust in things other than God. Not in the obvious twenty-first century conveniences and time savers (or is it wasters?), and not in material things, financial security, physical image, or fitness. Not in my family--children, grandkids, or even my spouse; although I do love them all very much, and cherish every memory, every moment with them all, God is definitely first in my heart. 

Or so I thought.

What is first in my heart, even when I try to hide it, to pretend it’s not there, is the almost obsessive need to be accepted, to be understood. That desire (and the inability to fulfill it, to achieve acceptance and understanding) has caused countless sleepless nights, oceans of tears, bouts of uncontrollable anger and self deprecation, depression, and confusion. Confusion and pain when my motives are misread, when I never get the opportunity to make them see (God make them SEE!) they are wrong about me, that my actions stem from the heart, my intentions blameless.  Whenever I meet someone new, I wonder what they think of me, if they like me, did I say anything inappropriate. At times I am so focused on proving I am right, on pursuing acceptance from the world, and on garnering understanding, and therefore, love, I allow my love of God to come in second. I forget about His grace, and put the approval of the world above His approval. 

I can recount innumerable examples, and often the misunderstanding is the result of speaking before thinking, blurting out some casual remark that to me seemed funny and innocent. When my sister was planning her wedding, we were picking out bridesmaids' dresses, and, shocked at the high cost of the dresses, I mumbled I'd return my dress for a refund after the wedding. And, to make matters worse, I had just had my long blonde hair permed (it was the 70s, okay?), and I jokingly said it made me look like a cocaine queen (again, the 70s). Neither of those comments were taken well; in fact, fearing I would ruin her big day, my sister told me I was no longer in the wedding. Over 40 years ago, and I still want to fix that misunderstanding, to get her to understand what I really meant. Other times it is my failure to communicate my intentions, and the reasoning behind those intentions, that results in a painful misunderstanding. Case in point, I developed a friendship with the realtor who found us our Tampa home; five years later, we were moving out of Florida, and hired her to sell our house. But, when after 90 days there was no sale, we decided to go with a different realtor; while I did break the news to her, it was via email, not in person. She felt rebuffed, and betrayed, and she broke off all communication with me. Again...misunderstood. 

These are just two of countless instances that my intentions were misunderstood; each time I would keep focusing on the incident, wondering how I could make it better, how I could gain their approval. And often, sadly, in the midst of it I didn't even stop and ask God how to handle it, or seek His counsel, or search His Word--I struggled with it all alone, trusting my own instincts. How misguided I often am to think that how others see me (other sinners like me) matters more than how God sees me.  This idol of my heart, the yearning for understanding, has not yet been thrown out or broken; it still vies for attention, and tries to usurp God’s rightful place in my heart. But hey…I know it’s there now, I’m wise to its ways, so when it tries to sneak back in, to make me believe I don’t matter without the approval of others, I fall on my knees, open the Word, and place God back where he rightfully belongs: in that God-shaped hole in my heart that can only be filled by Him. A well-known, oft quoted prayer by St Francis of Assisi says it quite well:

Lord, make me a channel of thy peace,

that where there is hatred, I may bring love;

that where there is wrong,

 I may bring the spirit of forgiveness;

that where there is discord, I may bring harmony;

that where there is error, I may bring truth;

that where there is doubt, I may bring faith;

that where there is despair, I may bring hope;

that where there are shadows, I may bring light;

that where there is sadness, I may bring joy.

Lord, grant that I may seek rather to 

comfort than to be comforted;

to understand, than to be understood;

to love, than to be loved.

For it is by self-forgetting that one finds.

It is by forgiving that one is forgiven.

It is by dying that one awakens to Eternal Life.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—(Ephesians 2:4-5)