4.21.2014

Social Media for Lent: My Reflections

Yep, I gave up social media for Lent.

It is, in my mind, one of the more potent things I could give up based on the criteria I mention in my previous post about Ash Wednesday and Lent: If we give up something for Lent, it should be something that is at least somewhat difficult to give up and that takes up a significant portion of our time so that one can conceivably replace that thing with an activity for growing closer to God. After thinking about it a while, I decided to do it this year, especially after my wife said, in front of a group of people, "I don't think you can do it."

So I did. During Lent, one person said to me, "Your presence on Facebook has been missed," which was one person more than I was expecting to say such a thing. I use Facebook primarily for rabble-rousing, so I'm pretty sure most people felt no gaping hole in their life during my absence.

In its place, I spent time each day with a C.S. Lewis devotional that has short, daily readings from some of his writings. As you may know, Lewis is both spiritually deep and intellectually stimulating, so I found this to be a great way to connect with God (and myself) during this time. In fact, the very first reading at the beginning of Lent was a brilliant passage from The Problem of Pain about the personas we maintain:
"We have never told the whole truth. We may confess ugly facts...but the tone is false. The very act of confessing--an infinitesimally hypocritical glance--a dash of humor--all this contrives to disassociate the facts from your very self...We imply, and often believe, that habitual vices are exceptional single acts, and make the opposite mistake about our virtues..."
What it included
During Lent this year, I stayed away from Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, or Google Plus (the five I mainly use).

I made some exceptions; some I can explain and some I can't. This hiatus from social networks did not include YouTube, and that is simply because it didn't occur to me until about halfway through Lent. Oops. (But see, if not for YouTube, we would all miss out on important, educational videos like this one). I still answered Facebook messages, because this is how some church members primarily get in touch with me, and it is a separate phone app that is no different than texting. I still posted announcements to social media on behalf of my church, which I do through a third-party app. And, embarrassingly, my "fast" did not include my one Facebook game indulgence: Angry Birds. If you say I should have given that up as well, I won't argue with you, but again, it can played separately from the Facebook interface.

Essentially, it was a "fast" from news feeds and posting, a commitment I kept.

Reflections on the Experience
Taking this break provided some unexpected insights on Lent, devotion, and this thing we call "social media."

Social media is all around us and hard to get away from. It is life now. Social media is how we connect in meaningful ways. It's how we communicate. It's how grandparents see their grandchildren. It's how we create accounts on other websites and services (making it very impractical to delete one's account). It's also how we get information on each other. I can't tell you how many times during Lent someone would say, "Did you see what's going on with so-and-so?" Not having been on Facebook, I did not know. Facebook is increasingly the way in which people share information. I felt out of the loop, and not just in that way. Since I follow many news sources on Twitter, I also felt that I didn't know what was going on the world. I missed the large technology-minded community on Google Plus that I often interact with. Social media is here to stay, and it's certainly something to give up temporarily and not permanently. My guess is that, if anything, taking some time away might have given me the needed break to be able to approach it with more objectivity.

I gained new insight on how quickly religious commitments can become legalistic. There were certain things related to social media that I could have easily done without breaking any commitments, but it would have appeared to others that I wasn't keeping my Lent commitment so I didn't do it. How quickly we regress into legalism or keeping up appearances! "Thus you nullify the word of God for the sake of your tradition" (Matthew 15:6). Let me explain. I am an avid online reader and use apps like Feedly and Google Newsstand to curate all the blogs and sites I follow. As I read, I will often share a quote or the whole article on Twitter, which can be done with the push of a button from within the reading app without ever actually visiting my Twitter news feed. I also do this with highlighted quotes from Kindle books. I kept wanting to share stuff but never did because it would have appeared (to the zero people who cared) that I wasn't keeping my Lent commitment. There would have been no harm in quickly sharing things I was reading and it would have only been edifying for other people. But, I suppose, it taught me to read things more for what I'm getting out of them personally rather than what I want to put out there for others. I also noticed that it's not just social media that takes up time, head space, etc. that can be used for valuable spiritual reflection. There are plenty of such things in our lives. Rigidly defined commitments can have the unintended consequence of making us stick to parameters instead of following "the spirit of the law" and ridding ourselves of anything and everything that causes us to be unhealthy people. "If your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away." (Matthew 5:30)


I did not miss Facebook. I'm not ready to close my account or anything, but I didn't really miss it. Facebook is really a different animal than the other social networks, and stepping back from it during Lent made me realize this. I missed Twitter and Google Plus. I did not miss Facebook. In my experience, Twitter and Google Plus have been great ways to get information and stay connected to my interests. But Facebook is a big, awkward party of my friends, family, co-workers, parishioners and acquaintances that largely does not edify my life in the way other social networks do. Facebook is making us all stupid. It is a cacophony of attention-begging, passive-aggressive behavior, daily diary entries, inside jokes that only make sense to about 3 people, and of course, the big one: gullibility. I really didn't miss that...having to see these bogus stories and memes people post that put their gullibility on full display. I don't know what it is about the internet that makes people believe everything they read. Maybe because a trusted friend posted it? Whatever it is, it seems that whenever we log on, our brains log off.

Now, I'm sure some people will lump me into the noise I just mentioned. Because I'm one of those people on Facebook who debates religion and politics. The two forbidden dinner conversations. You can find memes about people like me, making fun of us for such an allegedly pointless endeavor. That's OK. I get it. But I would simply ask you to consider that of all the things people could talk about, it's religion and politics that affect the most people in the most real ways. It's politics that determine what taxes you pay and whether you'll have money to live on after retirement. It's religion that people turn to when tragedy hits their life. It's politics that determines what you pay for health insurance and whether you will keep it when you get sick. It's religion AND politics that send your son or daughter off to war. This is why some of us feel they are conversations worth having, even if we're not always polite when doing so. But I'm not going to fault you for thinking I should get a grip, and I live under no illusion that such activity on Facebook has any real impact (though I could give a few examples that suggest otherwise).

But I digress. I guess I didn't become any less outspoken during Lent. At any rate, I'm glad I took my 40-day break from social media. It allowed me to reconnect with some important things, and that's what it's for. Whether it's the season of Lent or not, I invite you to consider how you may best disconnect...in order to reconnect.

3.24.2014

Loving Neighbors and Reading the Bible: Some Reflections Upon the Death of Phelps [Excerpt]

Upon Phelps’ passing, many are rejoicing. I am reflecting, particularly on two lessons that I think are crucial
for followers of Christ today. First, I’m reflecting on how Fred Phelps and his group put our ability to love our neighbor–and enemies–to the test...

If we want to show that our way is correct, then our response should model something that Fred’s life did not. If we believe we’re on higher ground, why do our actions and words stoop to the same level? He wishes death on us, we wish death on him. He protests our funerals, we want to protest his. This is a boxing match, not the higher ground to which God calls us. Over and over, the Bible points to a different way (Proverbs 20:22, 24:17-18; Matthew 5:43-48; Romans 12:17; 1 Thessalonians 5:15; 1 Peter 3:9). Jesus’ teaching is so radical, in part, because it is so difficult and against our nature.

One powerful verse from Proverbs calls us to task: ”Do not gloat when your enemies fall; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice, or the Lord will see and disapprove and turn his wrath away from them.” Proverbs 24:17-18...

The second thing I’m reflecting on is what the legacy of Phelps can teach us about reading and interpreting the Bible...In interviews, the Westboro group has been known to say, “We’re not making this stuff up.” When it comes to quoting the Bible, that’s true. They know their Bible better than most Christians, and they never misquote it. They use the same book as my church that preaches love. Where we differ–to use a big seminary word–is hermeneutics: the guiding principles and interpretive lenses we use to decide what parts of the Bible to emphasize and how to interpret it...

[Read the full article on the Associated Baptist Press blog]

3.05.2014

Dropping the Fad, Picking Up the Cross

The season of Lent is a strange thing in our culture. People still know the word, and they still know it's a time when you're supposed to give something up. But the meaning is largely lost.

Etymologically, the word itself is unimpressive. It can be traced to an Old English word from the late Middle Ages that simply meant "springtime." But its purpose has been reflected upon and practiced in profound ways. For most of church history, it has been a somber time of fasting. Though a select few still actually fast today, that practice has largely been replaced with the giving up of one particular luxury or activity. It's a 40 day fast...although if you were to count on your calendar from Ash Wednesday to Easter, you would actually come up with 46 days. That's because Sundays "don't count." The faithful still considered it important to celebrate, worship, and break the fast on Sundays as they approached Easter. If you exclude Sundays, you do get 40.

But like many things, Lent has picked up elements of cultural fad. Lots of people still talk about giving up things for Lent, but we've lost the meaning in two major ways. For one, we announce and brag about what we're giving up for Lent, and sometimes talk about how difficult it is to abstain from whatever we've chosen. But remember what Jesus said?
When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. (Matthew 6:16-18)
And secondly, we give up things that don't amount to any kind of sacrifice or self-denial and can't be replaced with time for study, prayer and meditation. I maintain that the purpose of giving up something for Lent is to use the time you would have spent on that thing or activity for drawing closer to God. This is why, unless you're actually fasting, giving up one particular food or beverage item doesn't make this cut for most people. Some have been able to articulate spiritual, humane, and health purposes for the long-standing practice of giving up certain kinds of meat, but in general I suspect that this has become a legalistic prescription.

But I wish I could say that it was the wider culture watering down Lent and meanwhile the church is keeping it intact. Alas, the church in some ways has fallen victim as well. Aside from some churches not observing Lent or talking about it much, I've heard of a new disturbing trend related to Ash Wednesday, the start of the Lenten season when some churches hold services that include the imposition of ashes. Have you seen headlines like this?

Ash Wednesday in a hurry? Get ashes outdoors...

Apparently, some churches are offering drive-though imposition of ashes. In other words, if your life is too busy to take an hour to come join other believers in an Ash Wednesday service, not to worry. You can just stop in the parking lot, roll down your window, get your ashes, and go about your life as it was.

To try to be fair, churches that have done this have reported that it seems to have an effect on some people. One article said that "some people were overcome with emotion and cried as they rolled down their windows."

Would I rather people take a drive-by option than not do it all? I'm not sure. It all depends on what they plan to do in their spiritual life beyond that point. If the ashes are for religious points rather than the start of some form of spiritual discipline and self-denial, I say don't bother. I suppose lots of things in our culture have become "drive-through." But when we do this with church, we totally neglect two key areas.

One, fellowship. We have lost a lot of ground in understanding and appreciating what Christian community (koinonia in Greek) is really about. You can't get it from your car as you're passing through. Faith was never meant to be lived out in isolation. Some people say they don't participate in church because they don't want to feel that rules or beliefs are forced on them. But at its core, this is not the purpose of church. To participate in Christian community is to affirm that we are all different parts of one body (1 Corinthians 12:12-27) and that we need each other. We give ourselves too much credit when we think that we can hear, understand, and follow God completely on our own. The original New Testament Greek word for church (ekklesia - the "ones called out") is a collective term. It is theologically impossible to "do church" on one's own. Indeed, to submit ourselves to the guidance and accountability of community is part of how we express the Christian call for humility. "Do not think of yourselves more highly than you ought..." (Romans 12:3)

Secondly, in "drive-through church," we've also lost the value of self-denial. Perhaps there are some who genuinely want to come to an Ash Wednesday service but can't (those who have to work, feel ill, or struggle with mobility, for example), but for most, accepting the drive-through method of this very important act of worship is pretty clear evidence that we don't understand its meaning. Ash Wednesday is the beginning of the season of self denial. Jesus said, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23). The practice of self-denial is deeply important for us today. The season of Lent is a perfect time to practice this. In his book Celebration of Discipline, Richard Foster wrote,
Superficiality is the curse of our age. The doctrine of instant satisfaction is a primary spiritual problem...The classical disciplines of the spiritual life call us to move beyond surface living into the depths. They invite us to explore the inner caverns of the spiritual realm. They urge us to be the answer to a hollow world. 
When we put forth the effort to engage this realm (and it does require effort), I believe we will rediscover for ourselves the meaning of Jesus' great declaration: "For whoever tries to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for my sake will find it." (Matthew 16:25)

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Update: after posting this blog, I heard that Molly Marshall, president of Central Baptist Theological Seminary, received ashes from an airport chaplain before departing for an international trip. Admittedly, I did not think of this potential, legitimate drive-through ashes situation!