Losing Our Humanness
In her sobering book Alone Together, sociologist Sherry Turkle writes of how digital devices have led to a new kind of self, one that has been “wired into existence through technology.”[6] It is a self, she contends, that is split between the virtual and the real, and as a result the lines between them are continually blurred. She shares the example of teenagers for whom the cell phone is almost a “phantom limb”: They sleep with their phones and sense them vibrating, even if the phones are shut up in their lockers at school. Digital natives who have grown up with technology at their fingertips from birth don’t necessarily view the virtual world as separate or even secondary to their existence but literally as a part of who they are.
As a digital immigrant, I do know, at least from life experience, how very distinct these two ways of being—online and offline—really are. And yet I, too, struggle with the boundaries. I find myself posting pictures on social media although I’ve been too busy to visit with a neighbor. I have gotten into the habit of placing my cell phone on the table when having a meal with a friend, as if digital interruptions supersede real-time conversations. Recently, a family in our church lost a child, and while I hope that the mom’s posting of pictures and painful struggles on social media is therapeutic and helpful, I have to wonder how many of us assume that we’ve shown true compassion by pressing the “like” button or commenting with some inspirational quote or verse. What is real and what is virtual in this hyperlinked life of ours?
On the one hand, we can never underestimate the benefits technology has wrought, even to relationships. I connect more now with some old friends and family members than I ever did before, simply because the Internet makes it so easy. I interact often with fellow believers from across the globe and have been blessed to make acquaintances with people I would never have met otherwise. Yet when relationships are reflected by friend counts on social media, when face-to-face conversations are supplanted by tweets and texts that we edit and delete, when we would rather swipe an app than sit quietly with a hurting friend, when we prefer superficial snippets of information over the messy complexities of relating in real time, what of our humanness are we in danger of losing? What of God’s image in us is slowly being extinguished as we rely more and more on technology and less on the gentle whisper of his voice, of his Spirit wooing our spirits to reach out and really touch each other?
In an assessment based on research into our digital lives by the Barna Group, Jun Young and David Kinnaman suggest that the most disturbing thing about this slow slip into the dominance of hyperlinked relationships is that at some point we won’t really want anything different—it will be too much of a bother.[7] Indeed, we all face a growing penchant to bond with technology—becoming inseparable from our smartphones, valuing our computers more than our business associates, or feeling like we have some sort of personal relationship with reality-show characters we’ve never met. As Sherry Turkle points out, at some point people will simply stop caring about the loss of real relationship, having “come to see our online life as life itself. . . . It becomes what we want. These seem the gathering clouds of a perfect storm.”[8]
It seems to me that those gathering clouds are growing darker by the day as technology produces further opportunities for us to blur the lines between the virtual and the real in relationships. This brings me back to the start of this chapter. Is it possible that the clouds will burst when the Oculus Rift comes crashing into our homes—when billions of us, if Facebook has its way, begin to use it to engage with our world every single day? Will we be tempted to replace embodied fellowship with cyber-groups or congregational worship with techno-events, neither of which demands anything from us since we never have to leave the security of our isolated worlds?
If so, then how should we as Christ followers prepare? How can we prepare to fight against losing the very qualities that make us human, that enable us to be Christ’s eyes and ears and hands and feet—for each other and the world—in ways that machines simply never can be? These are conversations we need to be having together in God’s presence, seeking his wisdom.
Monasticism and Table Talk
Many of us do feel the discomfort of digital dominance in our lives. In a recent survey conducted by Desiring God, almost 40 percent of the eight thousand respondents ages eighteen to thirty-nine agreed with the following statement: “My use of social media is uncontrolled and unhealthy. I check my social networks compulsively throughout the day, and it’s probably not good for me.”[9] This is the generation that has grown up with the Net, the ones who hold the future in their hands. While only 21 percent of older generations agreed with the statement above, it is going to take all of us making hard choices if we really want to turn the tide of technological tyranny. I believe that as the family of God, our life together depends on it.
In his book Desiring the Kingdom, James K. A. Smith suggests a unique approach to counteracting the constant pressure of cultural liturgies—many of which, as I pointed out in the last chapter, relate to our networked existence. Specifically, he calls for a sort of monasticism, though not by withdrawing, as we might normally think. Instead, he suggests that we reimagine for today’s world two characteristics of monastic life that could be formative for us.
The first has to do with abstaining from certain cultural practices that others would consider normal, not in order to pull away from the culture itself but to reject specific structures that may be detrimental to our spiritual health.[10] For example, we might decide to abstain from social media, at least for periods of time, because as a cultural liturgy, it fosters self-absorption and shallow relationships. In its place, we would seek to find more meaningful and embodied ways to engage with people. Or we might decide to abstain from all screen activity for segments of time each week—perhaps evenings or weekends—because as a cultural liturgy, being glued to our computers, TVs, or smartphone screens fosters insensitivity, mindlessness, and weak faith. In its place, we would seek to focus more on the world around us—going for walks with friends, having face-to-face conversations with family members, or praying or studying with others. In a similar suggestion, spiritual formation professor Bruce Hindmarsh calls for some in the body of Christ to become “digital monks,” to take lengthy sabbaticals from media in every way possible, and then share with the rest of us what they learn from the process.[11]
How might these or other examples of abstention from cultural liturgies address our need for oratio—loving conversations together in God’s presence that lead to greater consecration? Most importantly, they open up space for us to consider what has been at stake and what we are in danger of losing. Stepping away from digital life, even for a time, removes the barriers of distraction that often lead to fragmented connections with the people in our lives. Freed from the tedium of incessant interruptions, we can experience afresh the power and beauty in embodied relationships, something we may not have even realized we were missing. As we develop the discipline of presence, we begin to honor and attend to the people around us, opening ourselves up to the wonder of koinonia, the building of spiritual community.[12]
This leads to the second idea that Smith draws from monasticism, which is establishing rhythms of daily worship that “are holistic, activating the imagination through bodily participation.”[13] These do not have to take place in structured church services, although Smith describes some communities who are seeking to do just that. Instead, he points out that formative habits and spiritual disciplines can take place in far less formal settings—at our kitchen tables, for example. Hindmarsh agrees, noting that “it is no accident that Christ left us with a meal. Meeting face-to-face around a meal is a radical context for discipleship.”[14]
This suggestion is heartily affirmed by theologian and church historian Leonard Sweet, who wrote an entire book on the topic. In From Tablet to Table, he makes the sweeping claim that just by sharing our stories in the context of a meal together, we will strengthen our families, bree
d faith in our children, and form our identity as the people of God. Indeed, he declares that “the most important thing anyone can do to change our world for the better is to bring back the table—with Jesus seated at his rightful place.”[15]
The table takes center stage at some point in each episode of one of my favorite TV shows. Spanning three generations of law enforcement, the family at the center of Blue Bloods includes a retired New York chief of police, the current chief, his daughter (a district attorney), his two sons—one of whom is a married detective and the other a single beat cop—and three children. Each week the storylines follow two or three of the characters in their respective jobs. These storylines are often unrelated, but the show always culminates in a family meal. Dad leads out in a prayer of grace from the head of the table, and the meal commences, with food and drink passed back and forth amidst noisy chatter about each member’s life experiences. Young and old alike pass on their stories, share lessons, challenge ideas, and offer advice as this family participates in what clearly has been a tradition for generations.
Although the segment only represents a tiny portion of each episode, I always find myself waiting for the family meal. I know somehow that everything else will make sense once the family brings it together around the dining room table, for the storyline that undergirds all the rest is that of a family who depend on each other and find their joy in being together.
This is such a beautiful picture of how we, the body of Christ, can practice oratio. On a practical level, it demonstrates that as we invest the time and energy in embodied relationships through things like having a meal together, we make sense of our own stories, finding in our brothers and sisters what we really need to pursue God’s kingdom. But it is more than that. As a metaphor, it reminds us how our heavenly Father delights in gathering his children so that we can commune together. There, with Jesus at the head of the table, we share in the joy of being his family and living the real life he has planned for us. As Sweet suggests, “At the table, Jesus moves us from ideas about life and love to actual living and loving.”[16]
This is what we have to gain by helping each other regularly recalibrate our digital lives. Breaking bread together as families or small groups or congregations—in homes, restaurants, coffee shops, or neighborhood parks—creates the kinds of environments where oratio feels good and right, environments that even the most advanced virtual reality can never reproduce. Loving conversations in the presence of God around a meal, leading to greater consecration—this is the most ancient of spiritual practices, ever holding out the promise of deeper real-life relationships.
PRACTICE
A BRIEF AND PRAYERFUL ASSESSMENT
ESTIMATED TIME: 15 MINUTES
For I long to see you so that I may impart some spiritual gift to you, that you may be established; that is, that I may be encouraged together with you while among you, each of us by the other’s faith, both yours and mine.
ROMANS 1:11-12, NASB
THE PURPOSE OF THIS BRIEF PRAYER PRACTICE is to examine your relationships as they exist within your virtual and nonvirtual worlds and to establish an action plan for improvement.
Step One
Settle your heart before the Lord, engaging in God-focused deep breathing (see chapter 4) or in other methods you’ve experienced that bring your mind and spirit together with an awareness of God’s presence.
Step Two
Ask the Holy Spirit to guide this time, to open your mind and heart, and to be tangibly present throughout your assessment. Submit yourself to the Lord.
Step Three
The following items are a series of explorations for you to bring before the Lord. Jot down your answers in a journal, but be brief—usually the first thing that comes to your mind is all you need to write.
What are the names of the people with whom I share my personal journey on a regular basis (one to three of your closest relationships)?
How many times per week am I in contact with them via technology (texting, calls, social media, e-mails, and so on)?
How many times per week am I in contact with them personally (face-to-face conversations)?
What areas of my life do I share openly and vulnerably with these people?
What areas of my life do I tend to withhold from sharing with these people?
Step Four
Look back over your answers and then pray through the following questions, asking the Spirit to speak to your heart and jotting notes in your journal.
How has technology enhanced my closest relationships?
Do I rely on technology for connections rather than taking the time and making the effort to reach out to my close friends and family? If so, how often?
What might it mean to go deeper in these relationships —to be more present personally and to share more vulnerably in order to give and receive encouragement in our journeys?
Step Five
Based on your answers above, write out a prayer of commitment to God and to yourself regarding how you want to pursue deeper connections with others, and what that will look like. Be as specific as possible with the steps you plan to take.
Step Six
Prayerfully choose at least one person with whom you will share this practice and your experience, asking them to walk alongside you as you seek to implement the things God has revealed.
PRACTICE
TABLE-TALK CONNECTIONS
ESTIMATED TIME: 2-3 HOURS
Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as you are doing.
1 THESSALONIANS 5:11
From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.
EPHESIANS 4:16, NIV
THE PURPOSE OF THIS PRACTICE is to join with a small group of people who are fairly close to you in order to discuss some of the things you’ve learned in this chapter, as well as to encourage each other through affirmations that help rewire faulty neural pathways.
Preparation
Set a time and date for a simple meal (a potluck works great). Invite a handful of family and friends (a maximum of six people) with whom you feel you can be yourself—this could be a small group you are already a part of. Feel free to include kids or even to do this with your family, but consider adjusting the format some if you do. Ask older teenagers and adults to read this chapter sometime before your gathering and to jot down two or three things they found interesting about relating together. Have enough note cards on hand for group members to share with each other (so, for example, if your group has six members, you will need thirty-six cards).
During the Meal
While you eat, talk about the things in this chapter that stood out to each of you. Maintain a relaxed, conversational environment, but when necessary, rein the discussion in and direct it back toward the topic of connecting with each other.
After the Meal
While still at the table (perhaps over dessert and coffee), remind everyone briefly about how our brains form faulty neural pathways based on life experiences, and how we can help each other rewire these pathways with the guidance of God’s Spirit. First, ask members to think of something about themselves that they tend to dislike or struggle to accept. After they’ve had a few minutes to think, do the following:
Have one person share his or her answer.
Give the group two minutes of prayerful silence while each member thinks of an affirmation to offer this person regarding his or her answer. During this time, you will quietly listen to your hearts and the Spirit in order to have something to share. You will write your affirmations down on note cards to give to the person. People may write down words of encouragement, Scripture, expressions of affection, or something else. The person who is being prayed for may also receive something during this silence, so encourage him or her to write this down as well.
After two minutes have passed, go around the table and have each person speak his or her affirmation to this pe
rson.
Ask the person to give a brief response regarding what these things mean to him or her.
Repeat the process with each group member.
End with a brief prayer confirming the work of God’s Spirit in your hearts.
Encourage members to read their cards every day for the next month as they work on this area in their lives.
PART FOUR
CONTEMPLATIO
The life of contemplation is perforce an everyday life, of small fidelities and services performed in the spirit of love, which lightens our tasks and gives to them its warmth.
HANS URS VON BALTHASAR, Prayer
CHAPTER 08
THE CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE
The contemplative tradition suggests that to be so acutely aware of God’s beauty in anything leads to awareness of God’s beauty in everything, save that which is evil.
CURT THOMPSON, Anatomy of the Soul
ON THE DAY Iñigo Lopez was born to a wealthy Basque family in 1491, the Spanish Inquisition was rounding up Jews, Muslims, and others to burn at the stake. A young German boy named Martin Luther was playing with his brothers and sisters in the quaint mountain town of Mansfeld. And an audacious Italian explorer named Christopher was making final preparations for his imminent journey to the New World. Oblivious to the monumental seeds of change being sewn all around them, Iñigo’s aristocratic parents pampered their beloved son until he turned fifteen and took his first job as a page in the royal court. Soon bored with that, the handsome young man entered the military, where he quickly became known for his roguish lifestyle and valiant exploits.
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