Have you ever interrupted a quiet time — with God, right? — to check something on your phone? 

Have you ever dragged yourself to church, feeling a bit groggy, after binging a show on Netflix?

Did you know those experiences were designed?

For instance, in 2017, Fast Company reported on how Reed Hastings, the CEO of Netflix, sees his competition:

You get a show or a movie you’re really dying to watch, and you end up staying up late at night, so we actually compete with sleep,” he said of his No. 1 competitor. Not that he puts too much stock in his rival: “And we’re winning!”

We know that technology companies are aggressively competing for our attention.

But I think the effect of technology is far more pervasive than we realize. One reason?

Technology gains power by becoming invisible, seamless, taken for granted. And seeing what has become unseen is hard and then impossible.

Further, the most powerful companies don’t just sell you a service, but a spiritual experience. Are you allured by omnipotence? Amazon.com — and it’s done. Omniscience? Google it. Omnipresence? Double click those AirPods. Need affirmation? Get some likes.  

This isn’t clever wordplay but soul-shaping habituation. What’s a better way to satisfy your desire? Prayer — or one-click check out?

Which one could you do without? 

Imagine going without your phone for a month. But could you get by without church for a couple of weeks?

In an insightful Op-Ed for The New York Times, the author Leigh Stein asks, “How did influencers become our moral authorities?”She observes:

We’ve found a different kind of clergy: personal growth influencers. Women like Ms. Doyle, who offer nones like us permission, validation and community on demand at a time when it’s nearly impossible to share communion in person. We don’t even have to put down our phones… Our screens may have shrunk, but we’re still drawn to spiritual counsel, especially when it doubles as entertainment.

Spirituality is on demand. Tech enables us to do more, faster, easier, cheaper, better, now.

Step back and think about it for a moment. What is the main goal of a social media business? To make money. How do they make money? Advertising. What do advertisers want? Your attention. How can they get your attention?

As a New York Times review summarizes, the documentary The Social Dilemma claims

that the manipulation of human behavior for profit is coded into these companies with Machiavellian precision: Infinite scrolling and push notifications keep users constantly engaged; personalized recommendations use data not just to predict but also to influence our actions, turning users into easy prey for advertisers and propagandists.

The bottom line is that if you aren’t paying attention, each platform keeps customizing and adjusting what you see until they’ve found what keeps you engaged.

It’s an invisible but formative experience. Research by Zenith shows that, “American adults spent about 3 hours and 30 minutes a day using the mobile internet in 2019.”

Stein laments this situation: 

I have hardly prayed to God since I was a teenager, but the pandemic has cracked open inside me a profound yearning for reverence, humility and awe. I have an overdraft on my outrage account. I want moral authority from someone who isn’t shilling a memoir or calling out her enemies on social media for clout.

The challenge is that reverence, humility and awe might not be very addicting emotions.

These transcendent experiences might be inversely correlated with showing advertisements. If they don’t fit the algorithms that push your buttons, we won’t be able to find them online — and because we’re so emotionally worked up about what we are experiencing, we might not recognize that they are missing. 

Awe and wonder point us beyond ourselves to the God who is there.

But as we encounter the infinite and holy God, we might experience uncomfortable feelings. 

Shame — and acceptance. Guilt — and forgiveness. Fear — and unconditional love. Embarrassing sin — and repentance. Unwanted idolatries — and worship. Painful memories — and healing.

These disturbing and transformative encounters are the kinds of experiences that weaken the grip of infinite scrolling. When we encounter Jesus through his word, we are moved towards our work and our neighbors with fullness, purpose, and courage.

How can I listen? How can I empathize? How can I serve? How can I love? 

These questions are rarely the headlines of viral content. Why?

Because these are the promptings of a soul that is at peace with its Creator and Savior, content to do good without notice. 

Like any human creation, many technologies are utilized as convenient God-replacements. And if we let it go unchecked, one day we won’t be able to see what we’ve been missing for so long.

In full disclosure: I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this reflection on your computer or phone. I believe there are redemptive possibilities. In fact, I hope you might want to share and forward this to your friends. It could be a subversive way to interrupt the regularly scheduled programming.

Most of all, I hope we will each search out the meaning and hope we depend upon from the only One who can meet those needs. 

As the Lord said to Isaiah, after exposing the idols of his day:

Remember these things, O Jacob,

and Israel, for you are my servant;

I formed you; you are my servant;

            O Israel, you will not be forgotten by me.

I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud

            and your sins like mist;

return to me, for I have redeemed you.

(Isaiah 44:21-22)