“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. He says, ‘Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” – Psalm 46:1-3, 10

“Many are avidly seeking but they alone find who remain in continual silence…Every man who delights in a multitude of words, even though he says admirable things, is empty within. If you love truth, be a lover of silence. Silence like the sunlight will illuminate you in God and will deliver you from the phantoms of ignorance. Silence will unite you to God himself.” – Isaac of Nineveh

Like almost everything, there’s a good side and a bad side of social media. I tend to look at social media–for me, it’s Facebook and Instagram–as a prominent, accessible dinner table placed in the epicenter of my house…or life, to make this more metaphorical. Its central location means there’s a lot of activity around it. Like the mall, a church or airport, there are always people around to attract.

As the owner of my “house,” I choose how I want to use the table. I can invite others to join me at the table, where people are peers, equals, fellow sojourners and accomplices observing and sometimes working out the questions, intrigues, joys and pains of life together.

Or, I can use the table as a platform. A stage to attract attention of the people milling about below me. I can perform and entertain. I can woo through sage-like “wisdom” and profundities. I can provoke others’ envy or ire. When I have elevated myself onto this table, the people around it are not peers. They are not really my fellow anything. They are my flock. They are my hopeful followers and fans. When I’m standing up on the table, I don’t need them for who they are, I need them for what they can do for me.

“Wow, man–that’s really overthinking a platform people use to post pics of their kids and fancy lattes.” Maybe? But at least for my own relationship to the communication outlet provided via social media–chronic processor that I am–there is a lot of truth in this analogy. No sense beating myself up over it, but also no sense ignoring/avoiding a very poignant revelation. And it’s prompted me to not only check my motivation for why I’m posting, it’s challenged me to consider whether I really need to post at all.

Or maybe–at least sometimes–it’s better to keep my “admirable things” to myself and remain silent.

One of the verses I mentally refer to the most is Ecclesiastes 6:11, “The more the words, the less the meaning, and how does that profit anyone?” It’s not saying to stay quiet, but to be thoughtful with the quality of what we share first, and then the quantity of how much we share it. God’s gifted lots of people in my life with incredible wisdom. For a few of them, as much as they talk, sometimes it’s like digging through a giant box of cereal to find the “prize” hidden inside of it. Others? It’s like whenever they open their mouth to speak, the air goes out of the room. They don’t say much, but what they do say, carries with it a lot of thought and…meaning. Hence the point of that verse. People are more open and expectant of what that person wants to say because when they do choose to speak, it tends to be something golden.

There’s something beautiful about that ability to remain silent. To not need to perform, because I’m busier and more interested in quietly listening to what God wants to instill in me. Rather than me copiously considering what I (think I) need to instill in others.

To some degree, this is one reason I’m actually grateful for social media–what it’s taught me about myself. My motivations based on what I want, versus my decisions based on what I (and others) truly need. What I need more of is silence. And that is something I’ve needed for force myself to be that way…because I’ve learned to anticipate better fruit from that rather than the fruit of a handful of peers’ somewhat-passive validation found in a “Like.”

Father, give us more of this sweet experience that is born out of the exercise of silence. Help us to be still and to wait patiently for you at the table. To be united with you there. Teach us to see the hollowness of our fleshly-need to jump up and make noise on the table for the temporary fix of another’s approval.