Discipleship in the Digital Age

        With the increase in new technology allowing quick and constant interactions with anyone at any time, it is easy to believe that it is easy to connect with people. Social media has in many ways assisted in cultivating relationships, but many Christians disagree on its role and purpose in our lives. Some believe we need to remain separate from social media while others assert it is a vital aspect of discipleship. Adam Thomas discusses this conflict in his book Digital Disciple. As the title suggests, it is possible to use technology to advance God’s kingdom, but there is importance in both virtual and face-to-face discipleship.

        The Tech (a term Thomas uses to refer to the Internet and other technological advances in the last fifty years) represents the intersection of two opposing forces: connection and isolation. By living in a more connected world, the temptation to become isolated is stronger than ever before. Our identity as social beings is dramatically altered. Whether we like it or not or whether we recognize it or not, we are all connected to one another. Our natural impulse is to gather, but now many people are learning to repress that in order to live an isolated life. Rather than interacting with people occupying the same space as us, we interact with people through technology. This is seen at hangouts, where people go off by themselves to text, instead of participating with the people around them. We have the tendency to outsource our minds and bodies to the Tech. Instead of memorizing Scripture, we take for granted that our smart phones can instantly bring up verses. We ignore the call to hide God’s Word in our hearts because it is stored in the memory of our phones. Instead of going to meet someone, we hide behind our phones and computers and message them from the privacy of our homes.

        Thomas differentiated between connection and communion. He says, “Connection happens when two or three gathers. But connection turns to communion when, as Jesus says, ‘two or three are gathered in my name, I’m there with them’ (Matthew 18:20).” It can be argued that in some churches, communion is stronger than connection. People can come together and pray and worship, yet ignore the fellowship aspect of being a Christ-follower. Connections are becoming more superficial and transient as we focus more on what we like, rather than who we are. Instead of simply being friends on Facebook, we need to recognize that we are all children of God and act as such. As brothers and sisters in Christ, we need to learn how to love each other in deeper ways.

        The label of being friends through social media is deceptively reassuring. We believe that we are connected, but we really lose authenticity, accountability, and love. This is not to say that the Tech is void of love, but it makes it more of a challenge to love. As Christians, we should neither shun nor become obsessed with social media. The right balance must be found, where reality and technology complement and enhance each other. After all, Christ came to earth as a flesh-and-blood person, living, breathing, and experiencing the world through his senses. Jesus no longer has his physical body, but we are now the body of Christ. As such, we need to live in our bodies, not losing ourselves in a virtual world. As Christians, we represent Christ to the world whether it is through the Tech or in person, so whatever we do needs to be overflowing with the Holy Spirit.

The Last Song on a Record

 I have become frustrated with the lack of ease with which I now write. Writing is supposed to be my passion, and I want it to be my passion. However, I find myself now stuck with possibly the worst case of writer’s block. I don’t know where to begin, and when I do begin, I don’t know how to develop my writing or end it. I’m never happy enough with what I write. Every time I read what I have supposedly finished, I feel disappointed by what I see and am overwhelmed by a sense of perpetual amateurism. I always want to be better, but I don’t know how to improve. I can hardly think of a topic to write on, and when I ask God for a word, I feel as though I am listening to nothing.

  It’s like the moment when the last song on a record has played but you don’t know it’s the last song, and the record is still spinning for a second or so. You’re wondering if there is another song, but then you hear that little click when the turntable stops, signifying there is nothing more to hear. It’s that moment of expectation and hope, waiting to hear something, and then feeling disappointed. Going along with this analogy, I guess it is safe to say that there is another side of the record. You just have to get up, flip the record over, put the needle down, and listen. I will admit that in the last year I haven’t been listening as hard as I used to. I was eager to hear what God wanted me to write, but then I got tired and frustrated with my lack of perfection. Even now, God will give me a vision to write, but I feel stuck when I try to explain it.
    The best I can do is be patient with myself, challenge myself (rather, force myself) to write more, and hope that at least one person will read my writings and hear God’s voice in it somehow. Even if my writing is not perfect, I need to be obedient and write whatever God asks me to share.

Flaming Clock

       There is a clock that is engulfed in flames. Over the crackling of the fire, you can still hear the repetitive, endless cry of the clock: Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. It is all hypnotic, entrancing, hard to pull away from. The heat from the flames is uncomfortable, yet begs you to come in closer until you realize you enjoy it. The intensity of the prickly warmth, both painful and comforting, feels familiar. The clock begins to melt, the ticks and tocks becoming slower. You are losing track of time. A strong wind comes, giving you chills. As the strong gust continues the fire dissipates. What is left is a disfigured clock, still ticking off the seconds, and smoldering embers resting beneath. 

Treadmill in the Forest

     I see a young woman on a treadmill. All around her is a forest. The scenery begins to move past her as she runs on the treadmill--although she is technically not moving, it appears as though she is. She is sprinting now, breathing hard and growing tired. The landscape changes to an open field as she slows her pace. She allows the treadmill to come to a stop. She steps off and begins to walk, leaving the machine behind her. She runs through the tall grass, feeling free and lighthearted. She soaks in everything through her senses--feeling, seeing, hearing, smelling... She lays down in the meadow, staring up at the cloudless blue sky and squinting at the sun. She feels as if she can feel the earth's motion. All she can feel is peace. After resting she feels rejuvenated and refreshed, ready to move about. She walks purposefully towards the horizon, ready to see and experience what is beyond her sight.

White Picket Fence

      I see a white picket fence. There is a gate at its midpoint and, beside it, a mailbox standing just behind the fence. Shadows of people intermittently walk by, none of them noticing the fence or mailbox. Occasionally the shadow of a mailman will put papers into the box, but it is usually junk mail. There is the shadow of one man in particular who walks by this fence quite often. This man loves to take strolls now—he used to enjoy the busy, workaholic life. One day he had to walk home from work because his car was in the shop. He was angry, annoyed, and in a hurry. He passed this fence that day, and was overcome by a profound sense of calmness. Since then, he walks by the white picket fence daily, several times a day when possible. Today he notices something new. Ivy is wrapping around the pole of the mailbox and beginning to reach for the nearest fence post. When this shadow of a man passes by later that day, the ivy has wrapped itself over the entire mailbox, creating a snug blanket and sealing it shut. The red flag is down and completely hidden. He stares for a moment, fascinated, but is reminded he has to get home soon. The next time he goes by, the ivy has crept along several of the fence posts, wrapping around them like ribbon. Sunflowers sprout behind the fence. The nameless, faceless man stops and stares, stunned by the peace he found from this image. He forgets for a moment that he is on his way to work, a dreaded, stressful job. He thinks a moment, silently debating. Then, he opens the fate—which was free of ivy—and walks through. The sunflowers have grown into a dense forest of tall flowers. He wanders into it, feeling free at last. He loses himself in this place—no knowing which direction is which—but does not feel lost or confused. Joy. Only joy. He lays down and soaks in the warmth of the sun’s rays and rests, truly rests, for the first time in ages.