Saturday Read: The Smartphone Idol

Imagine trying to explain smartphone addiction to the apostle Paul. "Well, Paul, we carry these devices that connect us to all human knowledge, but we mostly use them to look at pictures of food and argue with strangers. We check them 150 times a day, feel anxious when they're not nearby, and often ignore the people in front of us to scroll through updates from people we barely know." Paul would likely respond with his words to the Colossians: "Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth" (Colossians 3:2). Our phones have become the ultimate "things that are on earth"—digital distractions that promise connection while delivering isolation.

The smartphone didn't just change how we communicate—it changed how we think, relate, and worship. We've become a people who cannot be alone with our thoughts, who measure our worth by likes and shares, who experience life primarily as content to be consumed and curated. Jesus regularly withdrew from crowds to pray in solitude (Luke 5:16), but we've made solitude nearly impossible. Our phones ensure that we're never truly alone, never fully present, never completely disconnected from the demands of digital performance.

Scripture warns about idols that "have mouths, but do not speak; eyes, but do not see; ears, but do not hear" (Psalm 115:5-6). Ironically, our phones do all of these things—they speak to us constantly, show us everything, and listen to our conversations. They've become the most sophisticated idols in human history, devices that promise to meet our deepest needs for connection, purpose, and entertainment while gradually enslaving us to their demands. We worship at the altar of the screen, offering our attention, time, and relationships as sacrifices to the digital gods.

The early Christians lived with an eternal perspective that made temporal distractions lose their power. They "looked not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal" (2 Corinthians 4:18). Our phones are the ultimate "things that are seen"—immediate, urgent, and ultimately meaningless. Every notification pulls us away from prayer, every scroll session replaces Bible reading, every digital conversation substitutes for face-to-face fellowship.

When you wake up, do you reach for your phone or reach for God? How many times do you check your device during church, conversations, or family meals? What would it look like to fast from your smartphone the way previous generations fasted from food—not because technology is evil, but because our relationship with it has become enslaving? True freedom might mean being willing to be bored, lonely, or uninformed long enough to rediscover the God who is always present, always speaking, and always worthy of our undivided attention.