Training Myself to Care
A few weeks ago, Trillia Newbell posted this exhortation on Instagram:
“If all you do is feed yourself news, news radio, social media, blogs, etc you will shrivel and die. It will be a slow death. Slowly affections change. Slowly disregarding the things of God. Abide in Jesus. We can't do this without him. He is the bread of life. He is the vine.”
That’s something I needed to hear.
Like many of you, I have thrown myself into the news and social media for the past few months—rarely contributing, regularly absorbing. In times like these—when the world is in the throes of a global pandemic and racial injustice is finally being widely recognized—there’s some new information available or a new emergency occurring every minute.
I’m not denying the helpfulness or necessity of the news or social media. But what I’m saying is that everything preaches, and the things we give our attention to will always preach the loudest.
Whoever and whatever we give attention to shapes us.
Our feelings and desires—and to some extent, our identity—will eventually reflect whatever we spend our days looking at.
***
I don’t like the person I become when I’m tethered to social media. I scroll and scroll, as if being insta-present will make me feel seen by people I care about.
Yet I never really see that payoff. What I do find: I ignore the work God has given me. I long for a life I have not been given, I compare my gifts to the gifts of others, and I judge internet “friends” for not being more like me. Social media makes me unhappy.
Every so often, I have to look at my phone and say, “There is no life in this box.”
But still, that little screen catechizes me. I try to stay off social media one day a week (sometimes a full weekend). I don’t have social apps on my phone—I only check them on my computer or iPad.
Those steps help, but they don’t fix the core problem.
I have trained myself to care about the wrong things.
When I wonder why my relationship with God is not as good as it ought to be, why my prayer life is dry, why I don’t want to open God’s Word, the answer is right in my hands.
I am always training myself for something. Almost every habit I have is unintentional—but I still trained myself for them. I am who I made myself to be.
As James Clear says in his book Atomic Habits, “Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to become.” [1]
***
Maybe at this point you’re wondering why I haven’t invoked God. After all, he created us and made us who we are.
That’s absolutely true—God is our Maker, our Creator. And, of course, we’ve all sinned against him.
But that’s not the point I’m making here. Part of what it means to follow God is that we must put our hope in a future kingdom, and see ourselves as citizens of a better city than the one we’re in (Heb 11:16). We must learn to care about the things he cares about.
Caring takes work.
Every moment puts two options in front of me: will I choose to do something that will lead to life and growth in following God? Or will I choose (and make no mistake: it is a choice) to care about the things my phone or social media friends or TV suggests I should care about?
Every time I answer that question, whether it’s by picking up a Bible or a remote, I train myself—I cast a vote, to use Clear’s metaphor—to become a person who cares more deeply about either the things of God or earthly things.
Choosing to direct my attention toward God goes against the flow. Replacing “mindless” entertainment habits with spiritual disciplines can often feel unnatural. But as Eugene Peterson said, “Whenever we say no to one way of life that we have long been used to, there is pain. But when the way of life is in fact a way of death, a way of war, the quicker we leave it the better.” [2]
When I say about my phone, “There’s no life in that box,” what I mean is that a hammer cannot build a house. It is one tool that can make building a house easier if it is used correctly, but it can also cause harm. The difference between the hammer that hits the nail and the one that punches a hole in the drywall is the hand that wields it. And hitting the nail on the head every single time—that needs practice.
Similarly, I must practice giving my attention to the right things. I must practice setting down my phone (or computer or remote) and taking actions that line up with things God cares about. Even—and especially—when I don’t feel like it.
Eugene Peterson explains it better than I could:
“We think that if we don’t feel something there can be no authenticity in doing it. But the wisdom of God says something different: that we can act ourselves into a new way of feeling much quicker than we can feel ourselves into a new way of acting. Worship is an act that develops feelings for God, not a feeling for God that is expressed in an act of worship.” [3]
So, what have I trained myself to care about? Where do those things misalign with what God cares about? And what actions am I going to take today to become a person who will more naturally care about the right things tomorrow?
Footnotes:
Clear, James. Atomic Habits (p. 38). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
Eugene H. Peterson, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction: Discipleship in an Instant Society, Commemorative Edition (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Books: An Imprint of InterVarsity Press, 2019), 24.
Eugene H. Peterson, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction: Discipleship in an Instant Society, Commemorative Edition (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Books: An Imprint of InterVarsity Press, 2019), 48.
