Lessons from fasting from media

It was a few days before Valentine’s Day/Ash Wednesday. I found myself harried and impatient as I herded the boys along to make Valentines for their friends. And when I paused, I realized that at least part of the stress came from wanting to capture an Instagram-worthy moment of cute boys with their appropriately childishly handmade hearts. Two days till the beginning of Lent, a season to practice humility, suffering, surrender, and repentance, and I was intent on being seen. Something needed to change.

Even before this moment, I was aware of an addiction. When I started feeling a little stressed, when I didn’t want to engage with the kids, my hands would reach for the phone, check messages, or mindlessly scroll. When I was doing a particular chore that I didn’t enjoy, I would put on a podcast or a show. When I felt like I was losing control of my schedule or to-do list, I would open apps to tackles mini tasks and feel more productive.

I knew I had to cut it off.  And so, for the first time since…. I don’t know, 2009? — I paused my use and consumption of media for Lent.  No social media, blogs, articles, podcasts, TV shows, and movies.  It was hard, but also easier than I thought. Hard because I was (am) addicted and I felt the gap it left daily.  But easier than I thought because it made me more joyful even on the first day. That first week, I felt the Lord calling me to deeper times with Him, and to pursue the practice of contemplative prayer again.  I heard Him calling me to love a person a certain way, to stop and pray, to gaze at and admire something. As the weeks went on, and there were more moments of silence and watchfulness in the day, an internal stillness settled in me.

It’s now two weeks after Easter, and I am hesitant to let go of this beautiful gift. (I think I want to continue to keep hedges around my media consumption from now on – maybe keeping it to one day a week.)

As I look back with gratitude, I want to remind myself of what I’ve learned. Here are some lessons from those six weeks:

1. It is incredibly easy to relinquish control of what feeds my mind and what voices surround me.
Around the second or third week, I realized the thoughts I had in free moments were changing. I’d been reading lifestyle and mom blogs the last few months. My daydreams had been about beautifying my home, nailing a nap schedule, taking good pictures, and how to dress better. I would start the day in the Word and pray “let me please You today, Lord,” but as the day went on, these other priorities would overpower me. I realized I was making it harder to hear the Lord throughout the day because of what I was reading in snippets here and there.  Before Lent, I was spending 30 minutes on the Bible, and then maybe twenty 10-minute chunks scrolling through blogs, random articles on my newsfeed, and Instagram posts, all of which may or may not be aligned with what would please Him. During Lent, those 10-minute chunks were spent in silence, on chores, conversation, walks, reading books, or playing with the kids. I was not doing anything dramatically different, but with fewer voices and more focus in what I read, I found myself more able to hear the Spirit.

2. I waste a TON of time on media. 
I don’t really know how accurate my estimated twenty 10-minute chunks is, but I do know these last six weeks I had time for things I kept on saying I didn’t have time for. I finished a few good books. I started writing more, exercising more. And it wasn’t just time, but also energy.  I was more motivated to play with the kids.  My introverted self had a bigger capacity for conversation.

3. Consuming media wastes opportunities for me to build patience and stillness.
I am restless by nature. Growing up in Hong Kong fed my neurotic tendencies to fill every minute. Waiting for the light to turn before crossing the street? An insane waste of time. Standing in line is unbearable. Always bring work with you so you can multi-task while waiting for anything. I wanted to measure the outcomes of my quiet times – so great was my obsession with efficiency.

Over the last few years, my phone has aggravated these tendencies. Buy groceries while nursing. Read a few articles while sitting with the kids. Check a few notifications at a red light. All this time I believed I would have more peace at the end of the day because I had managed to do more.

During the six weeks of fasting from media, I itched and twitched for my phone in those “in-between” moments that I am so used to filling with something, anything. Waiting for the light to turn. Waiting for the microwave, the toaster, the kettle. Yet as the weeks went on, I found those “wasted” moments to be precious. They were times to let some truths sink in. I realized I was restless by nature, and I need to be healed of my restlessness. I realized that I find my worth in producing. I realized that my mind preferred to be entertained, rather than to contemplate.

Stripped of the option to check out for a minute here, and two minutes there scrolling on my phone, I was better able to be present with the baby or with the boys.  I was not just physically there but really seeing them.  I took in Zoe’s face as she admired the sky from the Ergo carrier. I took in the boys’ little squatting bodies as they made their LEGO creations, Zeke in silent concentration and Zane narrating his way along.

4. Social media has made me undervalue the invisible.
I don’t want to admit this, but during those six weeks, I sometimes found the work of motherhood less enjoyable because I didn’t have the option of taking pictures of and sharing my “accomplishments.” The boys in a cute moment.  A fun project using cardboard boxes. Zoe dressed up. A special meal. Did they ever happen if I didn’t post a picture and get some likes???

So much of my life right now are things that get consumed or undone. Clean laundry gets worn. Cooked food gets eaten. Vacuumed floors get sprinkled with sand from the playground. Bathed bodies get dirty. A fed baby gets hungry. And I keep wanting to look for accolades when the evidence of my work disappears.

A year ago, God specifically called me to be at home for this season to learn humility (another post for another day), and yet I find myself constantly wriggling away from things that teach humility.  During these last six weeks, I heard Him say, tenderly, persistently: “No one needs to know you did this or that. Do it for me.”

“Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven…

So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” – Matthew 6:1-6

What about you? What did you learn during this past season of Lent?