In my heart, I’m a learner. From a young age, I loved knowing about all of the nouns – people, places, and things. Why are clouds different shapes? How far away is Paris? What’s the name for that thing that hangs down in the back of your throat? When I was interested in a subject at school, I did well. And I turned over all of the stones when it came to understanding something I loved.

This interest in learning was only confirmed by my results when I took a “StrengthsFinder” test and found that of the 34 Strengths people have in the workplace, “Learning” was number one for me. Some people Google to be a know-it-all; I Google to know it all.

It is because of my love of learning that I love the internet. You can see what people are up to. Any people! Strangers, Celebrities, Friends, Family. I used to log into Myspace (I know, I know) and say, “What’s everyone up to?”

As a Millennial, I was raised analog and then became digital in how I interact with the world. I remember calling my friends on landlines, and I also got a cell phone in college. I logged into Facebook when it was still invite-only, and I speak the language of Instagram Reels. But even for someone who loves having connections that allow me to learn about what’s happening in my friends’ lives (and, let’s get real, the lives of total strangers that happen to be famous or professional athletes), I can get weary.

I call it “content fatigue” when I am overstimulated, which isn’t too hard to come by lately. I scroll and see a war waging across the world, and then a newborn baby being introduced by friends, and then a sports highlight, followed by an advertisement by Coca-Cola. My mind, which admittedly works entirely too quickly, starts to struggle catching up. 

I remember when the internet didn’t exist. I remember the beginning when it was dial-up, whirring and ringing and beeping as it tried to connect with static and whistles. It was slower; there was less to connect to. Everyone was on the same websites or watching the same videos or downloading the same songs. But now? Now it’s like someone left a cement block on the accelerator and let the internet go as fast as the engine can carry it.

Over the last few years, it’s felt like this thing that was meant to connect us is tearing us apart. And we’re going along, orienting ourselves and our practices around algorithms and not around our rhythm of daily life. We wake up and scroll, we zone out and scroll, we go to bed scrolling. And while that is a colossal waste of time, something heavy on my heart – my soul? – is that it’s changing the way we see other people.

A few weeks ago, I told my counselor that I didn’t want to engage with the internet in this current season. I just planned and hosted my wedding while grieving the loss of my brother and planning and hosting his funeral and started a new job (because there wasn’t enough going on.) And she gently said to me, “You know, I think the fact that you don’t want to say publicly what you’re simmering isn’t strange at all. In fact, I think it’s wisdom.”

I asked her what my next move should be.

“Do whatever makes you a human.”

What she meant by this wasn’t to do anything my sinful, earthly heart desires, but rather, do what reminds me that I am a human being in a physical world and the internet isn’t the be-all-end-all of my focus. In fact, “touching dirt,” as the kids say, is probably something we all need.

As I’ve backed away from the internet little by little, I’ve found that my pace slows and my pulse slows and I don’t get wound up so easily by the current trending outrage. But more importantly? I see other people as just… people. Not photos in my feed. Not videos in my For You Page. Not political issues or theological stances. I don’t see them based on the statements they are making online or the causes they are waving flags for. Instead, I see them as human beings in front of me. People who got stuck in traffic. People who lost a grandparent. People who feel like they’re not enough. People who just found out their kid has a school presentation tomorrow and it’s 9 pm. 

The internet makes us think we know people, but we only know a version of them. And when our main way of connecting to others is through a screen, we’re robbed of nuance and tone and all of the imperfections of being human. We see people as objects, but people are people.

In Acts 2:46-47, it says of early Christian believers (who did not Google things:) “Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.”

Can we gather with glad and sincere hearts instead of distracted conversations and divided attention? 

Can we be friends without posting? Without tagging and pulling together our collective numbers? I’d like to have coffee and forget to take a selfie. 

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