THE CURSE OF CULTURE

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from e-mail.

FIVE-YEAR-OLD STUDENT RECITING THE LORD'S PRAYER

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"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from email." I say amen to that prayer. And, Lord, deliver us from Facebook. Instagram. Twitter. LinkedIn. Snapchat. I remember my beloved looking at me when I announced my plan to limit my smartphone usage. "This is going to be harder than you think," she said encouragingly. She was right.

Recently Joni and I took a trip to the mountains to unwind and regroup. Everything was set for a relaxing getaway. We pulled into an off-site airport parking lot and unloaded the luggage. When the shuttle van approached, I instinctively checked my pocket.

No phone.

"Where is my phone?" I asked reflexively.

"Did you have it earlier?" Joni asked.

"Yes, I know it was in the car."

We started down the typical path that causes me to have to ask for forgiveness later in the day.

"When did you last see it?" Joni quizzed.

"If I remembered where I last saw it, I would go and get it," I responded, with what might have been interpreted as a touch of sarcasm.

Joni rifled through the car and could not find it. I looked under the seat, under the mats, and between the cushions. Nothing. We were traveling with our friends Bob and Judy. Bob called my number, and my Fitbit Bluetooth watch showed that I was receiving a call. The phone was somewhere nearby.

The shuttle driver waited somewhat patiently.

"Go on," we said. "We will get the next one."

Bob called again. Again the Bluetooth watch showed an incoming call. Where was that doggone phone? We searched a bit more frantically now, as our time had dwindled to get to the terminal. Finally, I decided we had to head to the airport sans phone. I felt like I was leaving a man behind in my unit. That I was being a traitor to my trusty sidekick.

When we got through security, I booted up my computer and ran the lost phone app. Sure enough, the phone was located at the parking site. Joni flashed that mischievous smile that can be endearing on other occasions.

"You know this is a God thing," she said.

"Too soon," I replied.

Day one without the phone was awful. I had planned this calculated, me-in-control weaning from the glowing seduction of the device. Now I was cut off without any preparation. Like a person who doesn't think he or she is an alcoholic, until that person ends up in a dry county, I realized I was addicted to this phone and its relentless flirtations for my attention.

Day two was much better. I kind of liked not seeing all the rantings on social media.

By day three, I hardly missed it at all. And I began to notice more fully the impact these devices have on relationships. All around me, people stared at their devices. All I had to look at was the sky and the mountains. I began to watch how these inherently helpful and often good devices sabotage relationships. I would see a family at a table and every single person's eyes were glued to a screen. Couples sat silently, transfixed by their phones.

It took my inability to find my phone to reveal to me that I was way too often that person. By the end of day three I had to confess to Joni that it was indeed a God thing that my phone had played hide-and-seek at the airport. She smiled that smile that all husbands recognize when our brides are right and we are not. That was a very hard sentence to write.

Our culture has information-fatigue syndrome, and Christians are just as infected as the general populace. Three-quarters of adults now use a social-networking site of some kind. The average time spent on those sites is a staggering sixteen minutes per hour. The solution suggested by one publication is a digital detox. That is defined as (and I am not making this up) "a period of time during which a person refrains from using electronic devices so one can focus on social interaction in the physical world."

Whatever happened to talking to people, aka, interacting with flesh-and-blood humans?

We are the most connected culture in history and yet, at the same time, the most disconnected from God and one another. I couldn't get through a dinner without furtively glancing at my smartphone, just in case some important message arrived. There is even a word for the behavior now. When you snub someone because of your phone you are phubbing. The Hankamer School of Business at Baylor University did a study of how this phubbing behavior affected romantic relationships. The Baptists have come a long way since the no-dancing days at Baylor!

Researchers James A. Roberts and Meredith E. David have identified eight types of common phubbing:

1. During a typical mealtime that my partner and I spend together, my partner pulls out and checks his or her cell phone.

2. My partner places his or her cell phone where they can see it when we are together.

3. My partner keeps his or her cell phone in their hand when he or she is with me.

4. When my partner's cell phone rings or beeps, he or she pulls it out even if we are in the middle of a conversation.

5. My partner glances at his or her cell phone while talking to me.

6. During leisure time that my partner and I are able to spend together, my partner uses his or her cell phone.

7. My partner uses his or her cell phone when we are out together.

8. If there is a lull in our conversation, my partner will check his or her cell phone.

I admit I try to be sneaky and place my phone in different spots, so I can glance at an important sports score or "vital" text. Joni is not fooled. Surprise. She will occasionally ask me why I keep looking at my crotch. Or I feverishly check my phone while my bride goes to the restroom. What is wrong with me?

And since I am busy making confessions, I will go ahead and own these, too: I have sometimes been distracted during a church service by my smartphone. I have checked my fantasy football lineup while the offering plate is being passed, somehow thinking this is more spiritually okay than checking it during the sermon. That must be covered in Leviticus somewhere.

After reading...