Do you find it hard to keep up with everyone and everything that’s going on in the world? Is it possible that we were never meant to do so?
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I have been using the internet since 1999. Had a cell phone since 2003. Had a YouTube Channel and Facebook account since 2007. Had my own website since 2011. Joined Twitter in 2012, Vine in 2013, Instagram in 2015, even Snapchat in 2016.
The wonder of the world wide web is in the name—you can be connected to people all over the globe. And with the constant expansion of technology, it’s not just through your computer—but through your phone, your tablet, your watch and more.
I’m a Millennial. One of the most influential features of our generation has been the rise of social media. It’s grown up with us. We have influenced it and been influenced by it, good and bad. And at the forefront of its development over the past few years has been this one word: “Story”
Snapchat started in 2013 with “My Stories,” where all your posts could be arranged chronology. Instagram jumped in with “Instagram Stories.” Posts that last one day—so if you want to stay updated with what so-and-so is doing, you better stay alert. In fact, get alerts! For your phone, your computer, your tablet, your watch! Facebook and YouTube added the Stories feature (and tried so many times to get me to use it, but I’ve never gotten the appeal.)
There have been numerous voices in my life echoing the importance of story—Donald Miller, Mark Miller, the Rabbit Room, Joseph Campbell, JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis and more. Donald Miller, in particular, created his brand around this term, with his Storyline conference and resources and StoryBrand business and book. I was once enamored by the idea of story. That when we see all of life as story, it changes how we live. When we think of the grand metanarrative of life, it helps us find our place in God’s story. Story fuels. Story fills. Story guides.
But I think I’m burnt out on story. Probably because I’m burnt out on stories.
To be honest, I think I’m burnt out because I’ve overdosed on stories. It’s become hard for me to get through the day without watching something on YouTube, Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime (though their library is awful). I am checking Facebook, Reddit and Buzzfeed multiple times per day (and Instagram on occasion). It’s my own fault. I’ve been pulled into so many stories.
“Bingworthy” shows. Netflix Originals. Celebrity News. World News. YouTube Drama. Political Drama. Posts from people I haven’t seen in 10 years. Posts from people who showcase their good days and supposedly never have bad days. Posts that make me laugh, make me wonder, make me reminisce, make we wish, make my mind wander.
I love so many people. But man, how do we keep up with everyone? I believe I have the same type of relationships with people that I do with T-Shirts, Books and CDs: I never let go. I’ve got bags of T-Shirts from my past and bookshelves and boxes filled with media (multi-storied story storage) because they all have something so special and meaningful to my life and my story. And the same is true with people. If you go to my Facebook, you’ll find everyone on my “Friends” list: from my Pre-K Teacher to my Grad school classmates, from former campers to people I’ve met at conferences. And while some are able to treat Facebook and other social media as an online Rolodex and organize their relationships in an organized fashion— I just get too invested. I love to dive in deep and see what’s going on in people’s lives. Sure, so I can keep them in my thoughts and prayers. But also because I just want to know.
This deep desire to know is at the heart of humanity. You could say we were made this way—to know one another and our Creator. You could say it was the cause of the Fall, not being satisfied with knowing all that is good, but desiring to know all that is evil as well. Or you could say it is what makes humans unique—our quest for knowledge and wisdom. Or you could agree with it all.
Somewhere along the line, though, something changed. We went from being people who lived in villages or cities where we knew our family and friends and neighbors and all that went on in our area—to suddenly being aware of events happening halfway across the world. Reading about it in books. Then newspapers. Then hearing about it on the radio. Then seeing it on TV. Then seeing it on the Internet, on our phones, on our… watches. These have all been wonderful inventions. But they’ve changed us—and changed our expectations.
It is now imperative that you be informed about everything. You MUST be involved in what’s happening in the world or else you are narrow-minded. You MUST be involved in what’s going on in politics or else you are part of the problem. You MUST stay up to date with popular media and social media or else you will be out of the loop. These expectations are both implicit and explicit. And they burrow down so deep in our consciousness that it’s near impossible to shake them off.
And yet it feels like I’m always falling behind. I miss a prayer request or someone’s news. I find out about an event the day after it happens. There’s so much to stay up-to-date on, that by the time you’ve been updated, it’s all old news!
I remember a friend sharing with me years ago how thought it was important to remember that people existed for so long without this “network” of connections. They often lived full and joyful lives – and all before the Internet?!? Surely that’s not possible!
But just as we find ourselves often stretched beyond our limits with being overscheduled, overbooked, never being able to complete our To Do Lists, I believe we often find ourselves stretched relationally because we keep trying to not only do it all, but know it all, know everyone and everything that’s going on. And it’s just not possible.
There has been another trend in recent years. No, not simply deleting Facebook (although I totally get it and support the decision to hop off social media if that’s what you need). There has been a swing towards focusing on “living local.” Burrowing deep in our local communities, getting to know our neighbors, loving those around us. There are similar themes found in the philosophies of “Slow Church” and “The Benedict Option.” And this is not simply a modern trend, but something supported by thousands of years of tradition. We even see this in the life of Jesus. Yes, He cared for the crowds. Yes He healed the multitudes. But He didn’t travel the Mediterranean Sea. He never went beyond two hundred miles from the place He was born. He lived with His family and then with His disciples and friends. He lived and loved local. And still He impacted the world. Sometimes I believe we try to imitate Paul more than Jesus. And of course, we can learn from Paul’s life. But not everyone is a Paul. Some people can meet countless people, oversee numerous groups and handle endless tasks. And some people are more like Tabitha/Dorcas, living in one place but making a powerful impact on many. We must each find our way in life with God’s guidance.
I am in no way perfect in this arena. In fact, I am awful. But I’d like to get better. I’d like to know more about what’s going on with a friend than a character on TV. And I’d like to see the faces of my family more than the latest YouTube squad. I’d like to do this. (I’d also like to keep to the status quo. But such is the ongoing battle of being human.) This is one reason I am so happy to have my new home. I want to sit with people, pray with them, eat with them, play with them. I have never been a “people person”—but I am a “person person.” I want to get to know the people in my life while we are both here.
I’d love to fall in love with stories again. And not just stories that expire in 24 hours or end after 13 episodes or get lost in the News Feed. But stories that go on and on and on like waves crashing, water flowing into my story, all part of the Big Story.