How Technology Relates to Permanence, and What That Means for Christianity

In Canada, the Guardian reports today, people are using their Global Positioning Systems (GPS) for all sorts of things--estimating travel times, for example. Nowadays, it seems, you don't need a directional sense, really, and maps are becoming obsolete. Instead, you just turn on your handheld device and go from there.

Have you thought deeply about the changes the technological impetus has wrought? Many of us are so technologically linked that we could scarcely imagine life without our cell phone, our PDA, our GPS, our laptop, our television. The technology-driven society has changed the way we think about many things. We conceive of time in an entirely different way than did our grandparents. Our grandparents knew much slower, well-paced styles of life. When you can chop up every minute, and squeeze a conversation out of every idle stop, though, your conception of time changes. We also think of convenience in a new way. Our grandparents were not conditioned to think of every error, every malfunction, as an inconceivable imposition, but rather as a way of life. They did not have customer service, to put it bluntly.

In 2008, we are so used to constantly improving products, to around-the-clock gadget help, that when the Internet signal drops for even a couple of minutes, we throw up our hands, as if the world had just ended. What little connection we have with the American agricultural past, where a chink in the farm equipment could easily deprive even the most industrious farmer of hours of his workday. Though we are thankful for technological advances that do improve certain aspects of day-to-day life, we are also reminded with even the quickest comparison of the past that changing standards in technological production have changed not only our capabilities, but our attitudes.

There is so much more that we could say on this matter, so many more comparisons we could offer that reveal that the technology revolution is not one-sided, with only positive results, but is multifaceted, presenting our society with significant weaknesses as well as great strengths. One wonders in a more serious way about the relation between technology and faith. Reading David Wells's stunning new book The Courage to Be Protestant stimulated some of these thoughts, I think, though this is a subject that previous texts like Neil Postman's Technopoly and some of Wells's earlier writings caused to bubble up in my mind. The love of technology is fundamentally a love for a market, a realm, that is constantly shifting and reinventing itself. In this realm, new is the new new. That is to say, the technological sphere is obsessed and driven by lust for newness, new creations, new gadgets, new ideas. This mentality is good at stimulating thought and creativity, two gifts of the Creator to mankind. Everyone who likes and benefits from their cell phone, who finds email a useful means of communication, who enjoys a good movie once in a while, derives satisfaction from the technological drive.

But in yielding to the lust for newness, or even dabbling it, we expose ourselves to the negative edge of this blade. We also acquire an innate love for what is new and a subsequent disaffection for that which is outmoded. Sure, we balance these emotions; after all, aren't we constantly observing society celebrate that which is now "retro"? Yes, we do. But note that the window for "retro" items and personalities extends only about thirty-forty years back of where we currently reside. Things older than this span can qualify for "quaint" status, yes, but they are often simply passed over and forgotten. Other than a quick clip or two, most people have no interest in watching "The Ed Sullivan Show", for example. No, if we're in the mood for something "ancient", we'd rather watch a Beatles concert, or a seventies film, or music videos from the eighties. The technological drive, then, seems to sap us of a love for the past.

More significantly, the technological drive seems to push us away from appreciation of what is permanent. Because our current interest is constantly shifting and transferring itself to whatever is new, and hot, and sleek, and better, we gradually lose our appreciation for permanent things. We come to esteem not that which is tried and true but that which is novel and new. Faced with the choice between the hot idea, the cool trend, and the permanent principle, we're very much tempted by the technological drive to choose the former. This can have deleterious effects on one's approach to life, broadly, and one's theology, specifically. Though we might never intend for this to happen, we can transfer our love of impermanence and newness from the technological realm to the theological realm. Though we're scarcely aware of this transfer, though we had no explicit wish to make this so, we can make it with ease, and end up transforming our whole approach to theology, and life, and--dare one say it?--God.

In saying this I don't intend to say that anyone who likes cool gadgets is automatically paganized. Far from that. Rather, I'm saying that we should think about technology and how it relates to the Christian faith. We shouldn't simply think about which movies have swears in them or which video games our children should avoid. We should think about the very nature of technology itself. We may well remain engaged with it, and use it, and even enjoy it, but we should do these things while remaining aware of not only what we are doing to it, to the gadget or program itself, but to what it is doing to us.

Beyond this, we can say at ground-level that where we can discern a restlessness within our souls that conflicts with love for the ancient, permanent, unchanging principles of God's Word and the faith that flows from it, we must check ourselves, and take action against technological lust. If we find ourselves gravitating to theological trends simply because they're new and cutting-edge, we need to watch out. Some trends are helpful, but many are not. If we find ourselves bored with the Bible, and bored with theology, we need to watch out. If we yearn for something fresher and more glamorous than the local church, we should take care. In such instances, we may well be allowing instincts cultivated in an impermanent, impatient, restless culture to be directing our theology and our spiritual decisions. Our theology, despite what we might think (or what we might not realize, alternatively) is not cordoned off from the factors and influences of this world. It is connected to them--sometimes far too much for our spiritual health.

Enjoy your gadgets, then; use the incredible medical care available to many of us in this age; benefit from the advances that sprout up every day in our world. Use your GPS to find that elusive movie theater, your iPhone to order subs, your computer to find the Bible verse for your sermon, the email list to urge prayer for foreign missionaries. But do all of these things aware that you must shape your approach to technology, and that you must let permanent things, things originating beyond the age of the earth, to direct your life. Otherwise, it will not only be our gadgets that are impermanent. It will be, perhaps, our faith.

Teens, Television, and the Befuddling Mix of the Two

A thoughtful anonymous reader posted this in response to my Monday piece on television watching by evangelicals:

"We don't miss it, but our teenage son is somewhat of a prodigal and resents us for "imposing" our beliefs on him. Of course, we have explained the obvious to him and he is refusing to see reason in the true fashion of teenage rebellion. What would you do in that situation? Just curious. We are not budging, since we have 5younger children, but wonder if we are missing some form of reasonable compromise."

I always read comments to my posts, which is not usually terribly taxing. But that should encourage some of you fence-sitters out there to write in with your thoughts. At any rate, I thought that this was a great question, and so I decided to give it a hack. Let me first say that I am not a parent of children who exist in physical form outside of their mother's womb. I do in fact have a child, but it is presently hanging out in its mother's womb, learning to punch her in all sorts of interesting ways. I am not a parenting authority, then, and do not present myself as one. With that said, I think on a personal level that parents have to set a tone in their home in which they are recognized as the authority. They do not need to apologize for being such and should in fact claim the role of leader as a God-given station in life. They should seek to set a tone for the home, though, in which authority is mixed with grace and love. In other words, children in Christian homes should be happy, inasmuch as parents can make this happen. They should experience life in happy, joyful terms. They should not grow up with a view of the Christian home that sees it only in terms of what it is against, but rather that sees it as being clearly rooted in joy that flows forth from a rich understanding of the doctrines of election, atonement, and providence.

This means that we strive to make our homes happy, that we give our children that happiest childhood we can, and that we root all our parenting in a vision of the Christian life that is not legalistic or stingy. However, we will also have to make difficult choices that our children, particularly our teens, may disagree with. Hopefully, when this happens, we can look back and see that we have trained our teens to trust our authority and follow our leadership, even if they disagree with certain decisions we make. Without such a foundation, I really don't know what one would do in the situation described above. With it, though, we can point our children to the duty to obey their parents, clearly and graciously articulate the reasons for our decision, and instruct them to seek to live joyfully under our rule.

In this particular instance, it sounds like this young person could have a hard heart. I don't think it's the parent's duty to give in here, as it often is not. Way more often, it's going to be the child's duty to follow their parents. Were I in the above situation, I would do what I've already written and stand my ground. Of course, I'm not sure that I would necessarily outlaw all tv, and that's not what I stated in my post. If you have made that decision, however, I would stick to your guns, love your son boldly, and attempt to show him that you're not making this decision to stick it to him but to usher him to holiness. If he rebels against you, that shows that his heart is hard. Again, he can well choose to watch tv when he's on his own, but as long as he's in your house, it is his biblical responsibility to joyfully submit to your leadership and follow you as his God-given authority, one put there for his own health and flourishing. It will naturally only help if this response is given in the context of a home in which a full, happy, rich Christian life is celebrated.

But even still, your son may reject your wisdom, and rebel against you. In such a case, you must not relinquish your authority as a parent and bend to his will, but stand firm and seek to love him.

Those are my thoughts--do other readers have their own? This is a sticky question, I must admit. I gave it my best shot, but as I said, I'm no authority here!

Real-Life Sanctification: How Much Television Should a Christian Watch?

I actually figured this one out the other day. Turns out the correct amount rounds out to about eight hours a week.

Just thought that you might want to know.

And with that, I bring this bad joke to a close, even as I ask this question in a serious manner: how much tv should we watch as believers? It strikes me that this question ties in with our sanctification more than some of us might think. Sometimes we talk a good deal about sanctification--our progressive, life-long, Spirit-given growth in godliness as redeemed believers--but fail to put any feet on it. We forget to go the next step and ask, what does it actually look like to be sanctified in our contemporary age? In a culture that gravitates to certain sins and patterns of behavior, what does it look like to live a transformed life per Romans 12? We ought not to think that we can talk a great deal about sanctification without clear practical application. That's like talking a great deal about the importance of political engagement but never actually doing anything to enact that love. We would say that such a person is full of hot air--always possessing an opinion, yet never coupling that opinion with action. Many of us, however, can fall prey to just such a lifestyle.

In asking questions like this, then, we're not trying to get pinned down on tiny little matters that have no tie to our faith. No, we're trying to carry out Romans twelve in a very meaningful way and ask ourselves, what does it look like to be an American Christian? I appreciate this about my former boss, Dr. Al Mohler. He teaches about sanctification as a systematic theologian, but he then seeks to discern the particular challenges of contemporary culture to the sanctification of the individual Christian. I want to do the same, and I want to encourage others to do the same. Toward that end, many Americans watch a ton of television. Here's a quotation on the absolutely stunning amount of tv your average American watches (source):

"Figures from Nielsen Media Research show the average US household consuming eight hours and 14 minutes of TV per day; with the average individual American watching four hours and 35 minutes a day."

Wow.

This is an obviously unhealthy amount of television viewing. I'm not even going to attempt to ground that claim. I don't need to. And yet we have to wonder how many Christians fit this "average" profile. I'm guessing, sadly, that many do. Beyond this, I'm guessing that many healthy, reformed, book-reading, intentionally holy Christians do as well. Why is it harmful to watch so much tv? Well, it's wasteful. One ends up lolling in front of a constantly blinking set with very little to show for it in the end. Of course, we all need some relaxation time, some period of the day when we rest our minds and allow ourselves to kick back. But we should not make the apparently national mistake of thinking that "relax" equals "television". It does not. Furthermore, there are so very many more healthy and helpful things we can do than to watch massive amounts of television. We can pray with our spouses or friends; we can read a good book together (yes, normal people actually do this!); we can go on a walk; we can go visit a person in need; we can call an unmarried friend who is in need of encouragement; we can check up on family members by a quick telephone call; we can write a blog post of endless length and little actual readership (just checking that you're reading). In these and so many other ways, we can avoid letting television do its voodoo work of mental hypnosis and physical paralysis.

Television is not nearly as neutral as many of us "engaging culture" types think it is. Bethany and I don't watch much of it, but our limited viewings of The Office definitely influence us. We repeat funny lines to one another, wonder out loud about whether Jim and Pam will ultimately marry, and laugh about Michael's antics. Though these acts are not inherently bad, necessarily, they show us that even in our very limited viewing, we are being impacted by our subject material. Many of my "engaging culture" friends have not caught on to the fact that though they, like me at times, think that they are impervious to all cultural influence on their faith, they in fact are not, as inarguably demonstrated by their use of a style of humor that one learns from shows like The Office, Saturday Night Live, and 30 Rock. Do you really think that your ironic comebacks and affected coolness come only from your own comedic preferences? No, just like me and everyone else, you've been influenced to joke in that way by culture. It's not neutral, and neither is your approach to it.

In watching lots of tv, then, we'll be shaped by it in profound ways. Unless you're watching John MacArthur shows on loop on TBN, that's not a good thing, broadly speaking. Am I arguing here for legalism, for some prune-like, sour-mouthed Christianity? I don't think that I am. I'm merely trying to point out that we have a limited amount of time in the day, and what we take in during that limited time will shape us. It should not surprise us at all when we are less spiritually hungry and fruitful in seasons when we're consuming (and being consumed by) popular media. It only makes sense that this happen. If we want spiritual health and vitality, we're going to have to force ourselves to fight for holiness and to discipline ourselves for the purpose of attaining spiritual health. Christians who do so are most often the ones who, when cancer or financial difficulty or spousal sin or lay-offs or rejection letters or broken friendships hit, are most able to maintain a strong faith and even radiate joy in the midst of their trials. When you've been working through a good Puritan paperback, or listening to Mahaney sermons, or volunteering at your local crisis pregnancy center, you're going to be healthier than the person who has taken in lots of television, film, and music. It only makes sense.

Let's wrap this up with a personal word. My wife and I are working hard at this. At night, when we're both tired, it comes fairly naturally to put the tube and put our feet up. It's easy, it's fun, and it makes sense. While we've both realized that there are definitely times in the week when it is fine (and even good!) to do so, we can also both see that a steady diet of tv or movies dulls us spiritually and hinders us from doing really important spiritual things that will mature and grow us both personally and as a couple. We've recently drawn up a weekly schedule (shades of legalism--flee!) that will give us a basic form for the week. On a number of nights, we'll do lots of different things--have company, pray together for an extended time for the salvation of family (or the defeat of institutional abortion, the welfare of orphans abroad, the coming of God's kingdom), go on a walk, read a book on parenting--and on other nights, we'll watch something, often just a few shows of something we like, like The Office. In this way, we hope to avoid legalism and self-righteousness on the one hand and undisciplined media gluttony and spiritual torpor on the other.

We haven't necessarily solved this question, and we don't claim to have the perfect answer, and having a child is going to change everything, and we'll probably fluctuate in our actual practice of this plan, but we are resolved to use the limited time we have in this life well, and to grow in holiness. Eight hours a week may work, or it may not, but whatever the perfect answer is to the question posed in the blog's title, we are hopeful that we and many others can rebel against the culture and engage with God in real-life sanctification that defeats the whispers of the evil one ("just relax, you don't need to be all spiritual") and that in fact transforms us even as we pursue it.