Many people ask me about how I will communicate with friends and family back home while I’m on the Race. I don’t know the details, but I know that my ability to communicate will be limited. This will be a shift for me, culturally and personally, but I’m finding myself more and more grateful for the opportunity to explore the world, step into a life of love and ministry, and let God’s voice fill my heart.
I don’t often get a chance like this to take a break from technology and communication, so after I finished my semester and finally got home for the summer, I decided to take five days to be completely without my phone. I had just finished a long busy semester in Boston, and was feeling the need to power down and recharge.
Normally in my busy day-to-day life at school, I check my phone in the in-between moments. I’d like to think that I’m not a phone addict, that when I’m at lunch or coffee with a friend I can resist the urge to check my notifications. But when I’m riding the train to my next meeting, or walking to my next class, I am often the person engrossed in checking the many emails and texts that have come through during the past hour. And of course, I’ve always got to do a quick scroll through Instagram to check for any likes or comments.
Being at home for the summer means pretty much endless hours to scroll through all my apps, be in constant back-and-forth text conversations, and refresh Twitter over and over looking for the newest tweets to keep me entertained. I only have about two weeks at home before I head off to my summer job in Pennsylvania, but I wanted to make the time at home count. So I decided to take a break and power down.
On Sunday night I turned off my iPhone and I didn’t wake it up again until the following Saturday morning.
During the days, I didn’t Instagram my lunch or coffee; I didn’t tweet the funny things my mom said or did; I didn’t check my email for the latest online sales or the weekly email from the blogs I’m subscribed to; and I didn’t text back any of my friends from home or Boston. I missed a few phone calls and a few photo ops; but what I remember most about the week of my phone fast isn’t what I missed out on, but what I got to experience instead.
I spent most of the days with my mom while my sister was at school and my dad was at work. We drove around and did small errands — getting groceries for dinner, supplies for my sister’s graduation party, stopping at this store or that place around town. We spent most of the day in the car, listening to music and chatting about life and summer, and the World Race, of course.
I read three books in one week. I always brought a book with me, everywhere I went. As we stopped from appointment to errand to home, I kept my nose in a book, reading the funny words of BJ Novak or Amy Poehler, or meditating over the pages of my Bible and writing my thoughts and prayers in my journal.
To be honest, the time passed quickly. I wouldn’t say that I changed in any profound way. My intent in taking a break from my phone wasn’t to condemn the use of technology or to count myself as better than everyone because I could live without my phone for a few days.
What I experienced most is that without my phone, I could feel my emotions more deeply and truly, and I was able to experience and process my emotions in an uninterrupted, undistracted way.
I am a person who loves to live a high-energy, fast-paced life. Living in Boston has fueled that for me; I’m constantly going somewhere, meeting somebody, learning something. And my phone lets me connect faster and live at the pace I enjoy. But at that pace, I miss out on the slow and soft moments, the kind and sweet whispers of the voice of God that draw me nearer to Him. At that pace, I often struggle to feel what I’m feeling and know what I’m feeling; I struggle to identify my emotions and let myself feel them fully.
When I feel unfulfilled, angry, resentful, bored, confused, lost, sad, empty, my phone draws me in. It tells me that I can find worth and value. It tells me that all I need is to text my friend or check Twitter. It says “Maybe if you post a picture to Instagram, you’ll feel better.” My phone lies to me. It is desperate for my attention. It demands my response immediately at the sound of a vibration.
But for a few days without my phone, I had to feel those things, undistracted. Instead, when I felt unfulfilled, angry, resentful, bored, confused, lost, sad, empty, Jesus drew me in. He told me that I could find my worth and value in Him. He told me that all I need is Him.
He said, “I want your joy to be complete.”
Jesus whispers truth to me. He wants my full attention. His glory demands a response.
Will you respond?
