Jan 4, 2012 8
Disconnecting: 3 Lessons from a Season of Rest
I know I have a problem when I’m walking for less than 10 minutes from the café to my house, and I’m trying to remember to tweet something clever.
I know I’m a little unbalanced when Facebook has quadruple the visits of my invoice program.
When I’ve checked my inbox more times than I can count in a three hour span, I know that an intervention is needed.
Nagging questions come to mind: Am I too focused on creating an image for myself? Am I consumed with the minutiae of my day? Am I obsessed with self-promotion? Am I simply contributing to the noise and clutter of the world?
Over Christmas vacation, I kept a very low profile on my trinity of distraction. I left e-mails unanswered. I avoided Twitter like the plague. I even stopped myself from scanning Facebook for distractions.
Instead, I tried to focus on single activities such as writing a little, reading a book, or jotting down ideas in a notebook. Here are a few things I learned in the process:
Twitter Can Bring Out the Worst in Us
At its best, Twitter is a really efficient and low pressure way to communicate information with a broad group of people. At its worst, Twitter is a soul-sucking cesspool of self-obsessed minutiae where I scream out, “LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!”
I started to think about what I wanted to tweet and what I saw others tweeting. At a certain point I grew weary of it. Twitter is a “what have you done for me lately” kind of service. It can be a grueling taskmaster that fragments ideas and chews up huge chunks of time with little to show in return—that is, if used for the purpose of distraction.
The Immediacy of Communication Enslaves Us
While reading a book or jotting ideas in my journal, I often thought that it would be nice to know if I had any e-mails in my inbox. I mean, my agent could have sent an e-mail saying that a big time publisher wants to pick up my next book!
Unfortunately, I can’t use that excuse 30 times a day, or however often I want to check my e-mail. OK, I try to do that. Saying no to myself is hard. The immediacy of our communication can be extremely convenient and also maddening. I can do something now, and putting it off until later feels like I’m doing something wrong.
What could possibly go wrong if I put off checking my e-mail of Facebook until later tonight? I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out. I heard a story once about a musician who missed a pretty sweet gig in Europe because he hadn’t check his e-mail first thing in the morning, and now I live my life tethered to the internet, fearing that I’ll miss… something.
When everything is important, we lose balance and perspective, treating everything as essential. This weakens us to the point that we can’t give our best energies to the most important things.
We All Grow Weary
My calling in life is to write. It drives me every day. If I can string together a few thousand words in a day, I go to bed feeling like I’ve accomplished what I’m put on earth to do—even if it all gets scrapped the next day.
Despite my love for writing, I needed a break from my blog and my books. I still jotted down ideas and even figured out my April Fools prank while on vacation, but as to my regular writing schedule, I needed to step back from it for a few weeks.
If my blog was allowed to continue making demands of me and my time, I would have wearied of it and treated it like a chore and not a joy.
The thing about seasons of rest is that we often don’t realize we need them until we immerse ourselves in the peace of silence and stillness. I have learned to recognize when my mind is spinning too fast for its own good, but I can only detect that if I stop long enough to diagnose what’s going on.
We take seasons of rest on faith, trusting that we need them and that God can work on us if we stop long enough to ask for his wisdom and healing.













