A friend and I were talking about church recently, how both of us have noticed this compulsory need to immediately begin socializing or planning brunch after the service with little regard to the spiritual moment that just occurred. He said, “If you’re just going to walk out of church and treat the day like hearing the Word of God didn’t matter, why are you even there? Why show up at all? It’s a day of rest for a reason – we rest in God.”
A recurring theme in my life lately has been this idea of curation. Annie Dillard once said that ‘how we spend our days, of course, is how we spend our lives’, and there’s a heaping dose of truth in that. Our consumer culture, one of instant gratification and severe dopamine addiction, is all about content. There’s a propagandic pressure to stay informed on the latest controversies, to participate in the conversations of the day, to keep up with whatever is the Kardashian of your preferred interest. Artists in particular are especially motivated to create by a variety of experience and information. This is a FOMO world and self-denial is not Instagrammable. But forget temporary happiness for a minute – is this unfiltered behavior really causing us to flourish? Sure, one could radically challenge convention by becoming a minimalist or pulling a Walden, but what about the rest of us in the middle- those of us who do want to go to brunch after church but still want to solemnize the sacred?
What kick-started my interest in this question was straight-up burnout. I had gone way off-track in maintaining any discipline in my life. I’m a person that requires consistency to keep my health- primarily with sleep -and I wasn’t getting much. I’ll also confess to some sincere cell phone addiction which was impeding my creativity, too. I felt a general malaise, my migraines became more frequent, and my overall energy level was abysmal. I wasn’t being in the moment with friends and I neglected staying present while visiting my family. I felt rudderless. But change came a month or so ago, when someone in a Facebook group I’m in (haha) recommended The Common Rule: Habits of Purpose for an Age of Distraction by Justin Whitmel Earley and I hit ‘buy it now’ (amazing). I was desperate for some advice on structure.
Earley’s story is like mine though much more acute. He suffered from serious anxiety and health issues before realizing that something desperately needed to change. If we take an honest look, Earley’s suggested habits are not taxing: turn your phone off for one hour a day, pray on your knees first thing in the morning (before checking your phone), have a deep chat with a friend once a week, eat at least one healthy meal with someone every day, etc. These seem like easy changes, but depending on how deeply you’re plugged into the hyper-consumer Matrix, it’s going to be that much harder to pull you out. Earley provides just the right amount of theory and story to explain each habit which really helps the medicine go down. As for me, I’m still trying to apply them consistently but my failure proves how much they’re continuously needed in my life, so I press on.
One habit that really stood out to me and continues to impact how I approach my day is Weekly Habit #2: Consume only four hours of media per week. Like so many others, I’m a happy Netflix binger. But are four nonstop hours of Queer Eye after work getting me toward my writing goals? Not to say that Tan teaching me how to do a French tuck hasn’t been valuable information, but I would have gotten to that episode eventually without compromising on the healthy borders of moderation. And once we start asking the practical questions of what we consume, we can move on to the spiritual ones. What about what I’m putting before my eyes is drawing me to Christ? Is any of what I’m reading at least teaching me something or at least points to something pure and lovely, of a good report? You will probably answer these questions differently than I do and that’s a beautiful thing about the church’s diversity and the freedom of Christian liberty. But the commandments and guidelines given by the Apostles are the inspired word of God and we shouldn’t take them lightly. Christian liberty should not (and if truly Christlike, never will) contradict what we are called to obey. For everything there is a season. There is an hour for Seinfeld and there is an hour for scripture. But the order matters.
Much of this can sound legalistic on the surface. But maybe we should at least question whether Game of Thrones, though arguably lawful, is expedient. It’s not legalism when we abide by the commandments a holy God has given us for our good. Why are we afraid to limit ourselves in pursuit of our goals, our health, even our holiness? What is our life but how we order our days?
J. R. Vassar visited our church recently and gave a rousing sermon on this same theme, but what stood out to me the most was his call to revolt against FOMO. Infamous internet lingo for ‘Fear Of Missing Out’, Vassar encourages us to trade it for FIMO - ‘Fearlessly Intentionally Missing Out.’ When we learn to say no, we find ourselves free to say bigger yes’. “Employ intentional neglect”, Vassar says. And he’s right. We should say no to good things for better ones.
So what if we allow our days to be steered with the mind, heart, and eyes of Christ at the helm? What if we consumed media that primarily encourages and equips us in the vocations God has called us to? What if we weighed and measured the content we chose to interact with? What would we add or let go? What if we let the rest of our Sundays be curated by our time before the throne of God? I don’t know what a life ordered like that would look like exactly, but I bet you it’d hold a lot less FOMO.