Finding focus: Four ideas for the desperately distracted

Digital devices can be wonderful, but the endless drone of social media updates can end up making us less human. What can we do about that?

Every now and then I have a regular interaction with my mum. She tells me an interesting story, but somewhere in her narration, I gaze past her shoulder and start thinking about something else. So when she comes to the punchline of her story and I respond awkwardly with "Right, wow..." she naturally asks, "Were you listening?"

Perhaps you've had the same sort of experience, where you're meant to focus on one thing but then suddenly, something else springs into view and now you're looking at that. Oh, no, bored now. Click on something else. Snapchat. Twitter. Something Donald Trump said. Time for a new profile picture? Wait no, look at this hilarious cat video!

We're desperately distracted. Writing incisively for New York Magazine, Andrew Sullivan writes of his serious struggle with distraction and how the constant assault of the digital world made him forget what it was to be human. Russell Moore wrote a follow-up piece for the Washington Post, suggesting how the Church can rescue us from our smartphones. Both pieces are full of insight and challenge.

Aware of our this problem, what do we do? A diagnosis of dire distraction isn't enough on its own, and as Sullivan writes, our desire for updates and interaction and validation runs deep and is not easily resisted. We all struggle with distraction to some degree. What are Christians to make of this struggle? Is there something Christian faith can offer to what Russell Moore calls a "web-weary world"?

Here are five ideas for the desperately distracted.

1. Sabbath

God commanded his people to rest – just as he rested after creating the universe – marking a day free from labour, because we are meant to be more than just machines. In recognising this day of rest, we take a revolutionary stance against a culture that says that you're defined by work and how useful you are. What if this rest were abstinence not just from work but online media too? Some ignore all emails and digital communication on a Sunday, breaking the constant drone of activity and making space instead for things like family, solitude, and worship. And Sabbath is actually a command, even though contemporary Christians often treat it more like good advice. If there's ever anything in my life that I'm just too busy to give up, or something that I "just can't live without", then that thing owns me, I'm its slave. So too with social media. Try giving it up for a day and see what happens, see what new things you might discover. Taking a digital Sabbath could be a great chance to set yourself free into all the rich variety that human life has to offer.

2. Nature

Writer Gary Thomas described the world of nature as "God's cathedral" and if you've ever lost yourself in the lush canopy of a forest, or wondered at the sight of the stars, perhaps you'll know what he means. "The heavens declare the glory of God", we are told. Should we be surprised that gazing above prompts us to praise as well? Every time I head outdoors after a day of staring at a screen, I always wish I'd done it earlier. There are obvious health benefits to fresh air and exercise, but there is something spiritually profound about surrounding oneself with what God has made. This can be a particular challenge for city dwellers, but it's a great excuse for organising a retreat. Take yourself to the middle of nowhere and see what you find. Digital devices may captivate me with updates, games, and funny memes, but it can never replicate the glory of being lost in the beauty of creation.

The Bubble Nebula in an image captured earlier this year by the Hubble Space Telescope.NASA/ESA/Hubble/Reuters

An example: I have an incredible app on my iPad called Sky Guide, a beautiful stargazing app which shows me the entirety of the known, visible stars that surround our little planet, detailing constellations, and sending me updates when satellites are about to fly overhead. The technology is superb, but ultimately it points away from itself, teaching me the names of stars I had never spotted before, opening up the world in a way I didn't know was possible. The invitation to enjoy nature is not a call to abolish technology and discover a new enlightened life as a bearded vegan wilderness-wanderer. It's simply to say that if you find yourself preoccupied by an endless but ultimately unsatisfying stream of digital updates, try going for a walk, and looking up.

3. People

The well-documented paradox of social media is how unsociable it can seem to make us. Dates, dinner parties, everyday interactions interrupted by the looming presence of a smartphone, leaving us all looking down. Of course you're allowed to check your phone, and we've come to accept such behaviour as normal, but is it the ideal? C.S. Lewis once wrote that apart from the eucharist, there was nothing on earth more holy than another human being. In human interaction we are confronted with another made in the image of God, someone with a story, a history, something important to say. You don't need to be an extrovert to have meaningful interactions with people. Maybe we should push ourselves, ignore the phone unless someone's desperately calling us, and discover the glory of another human being. Embrace the awkward silence, ask a question, make a joke. 

4. God

In his article Sullivan shows how practices of mindfulness and meditation helped set him free from his frantic digital life, showing him silence and contemplation, and the self-discovery that they provided. He even suggests that churches could be a great source of this kind of meditative space, offering havens of silence and peace not available elsewhere in the world. I think he's absolutely right, and Russell Moore explores the potential (and the challenges) for the Church in this area in his article.

What I would want to add, however, is that for Christianity, reflection and contemplation have to be more than just a place of stillness and silence. They are absolutely not less than that, and many evangelical churches I tend to frequent could learn much from the more still, silent contemplative traditions of the Church, which offer a powerful alternative to the blaring cacophony of the digital world. But Christian hope, faith and love are actually entered on someone. Christian hope is not merely silence in a loud world. it is the profound reality, that in the silence someone is there. This may not be seen or sensed, but its reality does not lie in our ability to experience it. 

The truth of the reality of God, felt or not, stimulates the imagination. It raises our gaze, telling us that we're not alone. Spending time contemplating that radical truth, thanking, worshipping God – that could change your whole world, and I believe it was meant to.

Technology is not evil, in fact it can be deeply useful. It is at its best a great gift with the power to build bridges and cultivate community. We often scroll our newsfeed because we care about the world, and we care about our friends, and that is a very good thing. We're called to be part of the world, to serve it, not to cut ourselves off from it. But when social media has power over us, when we're not able to give it up, or ever let it go, then we're in serious trouble.

Often our distraction is rooted in our worry and fear. I need to keep busy, because I need to show people that I matter. Or I'm concerned about things, about jobs and money and the future, and I'm trying to keep on top of them.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says of our worries: "Your heavenly father knows that you need them." We have cares and needs and that's OK. But being busy doesn't make us matter to God. We're already fully known and fully loved, we weren't made for some tragic treadmill of relentless activity. We're called to live good, real, holy lives, present to the place that we're in, free in the life we've already been given.