FOMO
When I was a junior in high school, most of my friends made plans to go to Europe for the summer. (With the benefit of hindsight, I can see what an unusual and privileged situation this was).
But at the time, I couldn’t bear the thought of being at home by myself while they were touring Paris together.
So, despite my parents’ recommendation that I not go on the trip, and even though they said that they would not help me with the expenses, I signed up anyways.
Of course, my parents asked me how I planned to pay for it. Well, I had a plan: if I sold my car, cleared out my savings, and worked all summer, I could just barely find a way.
Basically, I was willing to bankrupt myself to go to Europe with my friends.
FOMO (the Fear Of Missing Out) haunts us all. It can motivate us to take drastic action.
There’s a reason that ads showcase people having crazy fun. The commercial is designed to make us feel like we’re missing out, so we make a purchase.
FOMO is a modern word, but it’s not a new idea. Thousands of years ago, a poet skillfully set before us how the fear of missing out can take us, bit by bit, far away from home.
It goes like this, “How happy is the one who does not walk in the advice of the wicked or stand in the pathway with sinners or sit in the company of mockers! (Psalm 1:1)”
We see someone who ‘walks in the the advice’ of the wicked. We think, ‘I’m open-minded, I wonder what they have to say? It works for them, maybe I should try it for myself…’
Best Buy once advertised a simple message: “You, happier.” Do you see this principle? Everyone promises a blessing if you’ll just come with them. It’s everywhere.
So we’re forced to evaluate these claims. Are you promising me some benefit so you can lure me in? Or does your life demonstrate that you are good?
Before long, we’re ‘standing in the pathway’ of sinners. At this stage, our identity and our community is disconnected from God. We do as we please, with whom we please.
Finally, a ‘mocker’ is someone so committed to their selfishness that they boast in it. They deride those who won’t join them as weak and foolish.
If you’re not a mocker, it’s easy to see it as self-destructive. But once you’re sitting with them, it’s a status game. The best seats are for the coolest kids.
Step by step, we walk further and further away from God and his ways.
Psalm 1 is uncomfortable.
It challenges us to consider who influences our lives. It’s a vivid image: we’re not just hearing the advice, we’re “walking it out.” Are these people living honorable, godly lives? Do they have our best interests in mind? Do we even evaluate the moral character of those who guide us?
The Psalmist asks us to examine our identity and community. Are we so accustomed to sin that we’re no longer surprised to be a sinner? How many of us can go to work, hang out with friends, and enjoy the weekend without any concern for God?
It tells us about the stubbornness of a hardened heart. Do you make fun of God and his word? Do you openly boast in your disobedience? It’s looking like a long road home.
Will you bankrupt your life for fear of missing out?
If you have, you might be expecting a harsh, judgmental conclusion. But as I’ve meditated on Psalm 1, I was surprised to realize that Jesus addressed this situation with compassion.
His story starts off with a guy that we can all agree is entitled. This guy has the audacity to demand that his father give him his inheritance - while his dad was still alive!
That’s serious FOMO. “Dad, I can’t wait for you to die, I need to enjoy life now. I wish you were dead, but sadly, you’re still here. C’mon, hand over the cash.” Is that admirable? Is there any society where this would be respected?
But amazingly, the dad agrees! Would you?? So this guy takes the windfall, leaves the country, and spends everything he has on himself. He’s so foolish and rash in his spending that he ends up in total poverty. I imagine that he didn’t just hit zero, but he becomes heavily indebted. In the story, he’s so destitute that he wishes he could eat some of the food he’s feeding to pigs. But he’s so despised, Jesus says, that “no one would give him anything.” No family, no friends, no money. Oh, and the country he moved to? It’s in the middle of a famine.
When you want pig food for dinner, but can’t have it, you’re in a bad place. It’s enough for the young man to finally come to his senses. He’s ashamed of himself. He’s afraid of rejection. In desperation, he heads home to see his father. He doesn’t think he would be accepted as a son - surely he’s disinherited - but maybe, he reasons, his dad will be merciful and give him a job.
Let’s be honest. Most of us would say this guy got what he deserved. He’s an entitled jerk - a foolish spendthrift - and a loser.
But to his astonishment - and to ours - when he gets home, his father not only forgives him, but immediately kicks off a celebration. It’s the biggest party of his life. The finest clothes, a gold ring, new shoes, the choicest of meats. Music and dancing — everyone in town is invited.
That doesn’t make sense. But we serve a God who pursues us in unusual ways. His love and grace are endless.
As I see it, the Parable of the Prodigal Sons, found in Luke 15, shows us how Jesus invited even the mockers of Psalm 1:1 to return home.
When the son tried to party by himself, his life ended up in ruins.
But when he came home to his father, he experienced a blessing beyond his wildest dreams.
If you feel FOMO, Jesus gets it. Don’t miss out on his party.
May God bless you.
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