I recently heard an interesting interview on NPR with Nicholas Carr, author of The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains. Over a period of several years of increased internet use, Carr noticed a decrease in his ability to concentrate on books or long articles. In his words, “The deep reading that used to come naturally has become a struggle.” In the interview, he states:

“Neuroscientists and psychologists have discovered that, even as adults, our brains are very plastic. They’re very malleable, they adapt at the cellular level to whatever we happen to be doing. And so the more time we spend surfing, and skimming, and scanning … the more adept we become at that mode of thinking.”

And the converse also appears to be true: we become less adept at deeper, one-track modes of thought. Maybe this is old news to you. We’ve all heard similar stories—in the interview, Robert Siegel brought up the “Sesame Street is destroying kids’ attention spans” theory as one (questionable?) previous iteration—but what really caught my attention about Carr’s version of the theory was his use of the word “contemplative”:

Carr argues that even if people get better at hopping from page to page, they will still be losing their abilities to employ a “slower, more contemplative mode of thought.” He says research shows that as people get better at multitasking, they “become less creative in their thinking.” 

If what Carr says is true, our constantly connected, inseparable-from-technology lifestyles are actually making our brains worse at contemplative connection with God and worse at thinking in creative ways that image His creativity.

I’m not planning to become a hermit or a techno-apocalypse proponent… I’m just wondering what affect all this multitasking is having on my soul.  At the very least, Carr’s arguments highlight our deep need for practicing contemplative disciplines like silence, meditation, and spiritual listening. I also think it calls for a shift in our habits and lifestyles—I think if I only turned on my computer when I needed it for something, I would find myself surfing and multitasking far less. And I think it would be worth it.

And yes, I am aware of the irony of my blogging about this.  Ha!

The way up is down. We must humble ourselves before we are in a position to be lifted up by God and experience joy in the free, overflowing life to be found in Jesus.

Would you pray this prayer in preparation for the journey?

The Lenten season begins. It is a time to be with you, Lord, in a special way, a time to pray, to fast, and thus to follow you on your way to Jerusalem, to Golgotha, and to the final victory over death.

I am still so divided. I truly want to follow you, but I also want to follow my own desires and lend an ear to the voices that speak about prestige, success, pleasure, power, and influence. Help me to become deaf to these voices and more attentive to your voice, which calls me to choose the narrow road to life.

I know that Lent is going to be a very hard time for me. The choice for your way has to be made every moment of my life. I have to choose thoughts that are your thoughts, words that are your words, and actions that are your actions. There are not times or places without choices. And I know how deeply I resist choosing you.

Please, Lord, be with me at every moment and in every place. Give me the strength and the courage to live this season faithfully, so that, when Easter comes, I will be able to taste with joy the new life that you have prepared for me. Amen.
(prayer from Henri Nouwen, Show Me The Way)

This video became intensely personal for me at about two minutes, when Bell talks about inviting people into a life we are not living.  Every worship leader (really, anyone in “church work”, whether volunteer or paid) has felt this way during those weeks when everything is going wrong, every moment has been spoken for, and there is no end in sight.  We push through, only to arrive at our worship gathering anxious, exhausted, and uncentered.

The problem is that for many of us, these moments have become a way of life.  I know I’ve been there.

Most of us have heard talks or read articles about how to lead worship honestly from a place of surrendered brokenness, and we have heard something similar to the following: Moments of feeling completely overwhelmed are inevitable.  Fighting for joy and surrender in those times is critical, and crawling toward God in the midst of those things becomes itself an act of worship that will blossom into joy.  That’s all great stuff, and it’s true.  Those moments can center us and result in worship.

But the hard, unlovely fact of the matter is that for the most part, my times of exhaustion have not been God-ordained valleys I’ve had to struggle through; they have been self-inflicted deserts I’ve entered through overcommitment and spiritual malnourishment. Bell’s assessment is moving for me precisely because it has described me at different points in my life.  I’ve had to find ways of overcoming my own tendencies toward desert living.

One of the practices I have found is the “divine hours” or “daily offices,” which are essentially fixed-hour prayer and meditation.  I’ve only been struggling at it for a few months now, but already it has been one of the most difficult — and rewarding — disciplines I have practiced.  I suspect that this is because it provides opportunity for both spiritual centering and healthy daily rhythms if practiced consistently.  Also, the sort of prayers (often Psalms) used in these books are so different from my habitual prayers that they cause me to look at God, myself, and life in a different way.

If you’re interested, check out The Divine Hours trilogy by Phyllis Tickle and/or Celtic Daily Prayer by the Northumbria Community.  The first I picked up at my brother/friend Aaron’s house (I’d call him my brofriend, but that just sounds shady), and the other I stumbled across on Amazon.  I’ve found that the mixed use of both has been most beneficial for me.

I recently read the book The Trouble With Paris by Australian author and speaker Mark Sayers.  Sayers is like a handy kid with a screwdriver, taking apart Western culture’s consumer-driven longings, addictions, and expectations and spinning the gears to see what makes us tick.  In the process he invites his readers to think deeply about which reality we will choose to pursue—will we try to live in the world’s hyper-reality, or in God’s reality?

The book got me thinking about escapism, our regular attempts at using possessions, activities, people, etc. to numb ourselves, achieve a buzz, or escape from whatever reality in which we think we’re stuck.  If we pay attention, we’ll notice that this drive to escape has become part of the very soul of our suburban culture (just pay attention to how many people are watching Desperate Housewives, and how many more are living the show!).

Anyway, I spoke about the topic at church last Sunday using Elijah’s escape from Jezebel and encounter with God on Mt. Horeb (1 Kings 19) as a text. You can listen if you want by clicking the play button below, or you can download the MP3 directly by clicking here.

The audio at the beginning is a video clip we showed from the Trouble /w Paris DVD study, which you can preview or purchase from the TTWP website.

By the way, this message is part of our church’s current message series is called “The ‘Burbs: Finding God in a Plastic World”.  The series was inspired by David Goetz’s excellent book Death by Suburb (which is a must-read for anyone living/ministering in the suburbs).