"It's Complicated"

Such is my relationship with Facebook.

We cannot seem to commit. "It's not you. It's me." Today I said again, "I need some time." And it is LOST's fault.

---


I am still sorting the balance in the mess of social networking. A few months ago, I deactivated my Facebook account and disappeared from that sphere altogether. I enjoyed the "unplugged" life. However, I had to begrudgingly admit to the selfishness of the decision, since I live hundreds of miles from most of my family and friends, and return to the chaos once more. After several weeks, I have made a compromise to leave my account active for the sake of accessibility, but to no longer frequent it on a daily basis.

Being a Facebook user leaves me drained and uninspired. I sit down at my laptop, intent on tapping out some thoughts regarding the work that God is doing in my life, but a few minutes scrolling through my news feed demotivates and distracts me. Since, ultimately, I still side with my friend Harriet in aspirations to write, write, write "when I grow up," I've realized that I must eliminate that dynamic from my life completely.

What has all this to do with LOST? Being a dutiful member of my generation, I have a few dozen friends who are faithful devotees of the show. Once a week, my social network diet consisted of inordinate amounts of references to "tonight's episode." No offense intended to you LOST fanatics, but I hated the buzz about it--for no (apparent) reason whatsoever.

This frustration actually seemed about as contradictory to me as it must have to my many comrades who know well my delight in film and media. I was uncomfortable, but I have never watched an episode of LOST that appalled or offended me. If you expect to read a list of reasons why you should not watch LOST, you best redirect yourself to Google. Perhaps that post can appear if I ever start writing "The Legalist's TV Guide."

The sense of discomfort was mirrored in my feelings about Facebook, and I was finally able to recognize the dynamic. I am not necessarily against LOST or Facebook or anything of that nature. Truthfully, I have laid clever, pop-culture traps thusfar, only ever intending to arrive at a topic I find more enthralling: the stewardship of the imagination.

My point is that I am not here as an advocate in favour of or opposing LOST or its myriad of popular counterparts because of such-and-such specific content. Here is why: At some point, I think, our maturation in God must inspire a standard for what we do or do not watch, listen to, or read that isn't strictly concerned with PG-13 versus R, "secular" versus "Christian" (we'll not touch that dissonant topic just now), or whatever other generalized distinction our culture may make. In such quibbling we hear the echoes of the "Don't handle, don't touch" credo the apostle Paul dismantled among the Colossians. That is the dogmatism of one who, ultimately, still looks for entertainment, and is merely seeking the boundaries in which to pursue the fulfillment of that compulsion.

But we are citizens of heaven caught up in such rapturous awareness of the King of kings that trite amusement holds no true pleasure for us. As such, our concern is not "What are we allowed to have?" It is instead, "How might I become more fully the establishment of the kingdom of God?" With a founding Scriptural awareness of the character and delights of our Lord, it is quite logical that the answer to that question will differ with each one of His children.

God's primary communication to us is, as we know, through His Word. He then provides us with the companionship of the Spirit, "we have the mind of Christ" being the unfathomable gift of His presence. But do we actually suppose the faculties of creative perception are carnal, unrelated to our spiritual existence? Our imaginations can, wonderfully, act as auxiliary receptors for the dialogue of eternity to our souls. In them we have the capacity to understand beauty and nobility and triumph through the narrative and the metaphorical in a way that clinical, sterile communication cannot inspire. Why else would our Saviour have put such effort into functioning as an excellent storyteller?

What I mean to say is this: When we live in communion with the Spirit, our attention need not be on what the movie is rated, to what market the book was published, or on which label the album was produced. These are the questions of children, beneficial and right in their season, but unfitting for men and women who live as image bearers of the King. As is said often in the local circles, "Love Jesus, and do what you want." It is no longer in my nature to enjoy the things which repulse God. Why am I acting as if the Spirit of God within me might suddenly become confused and desire depravity?

No, we are instead to be concerned with exposing ourselves to the things which foster hunger, stir up divine vision, and illuminate beauty. We are to find Jesus in novels, discover the nature of victory in the songs of a local band, and learn endurance through foreign film. Let's not limit ourselves to mindless grazing off a list of acceptable foods. Let's learn to prepare for our minds and our souls a feast of the unexpected, the unexplored, and the breathtaking.

I left Facebook because reading my news feed and clicking through photo albums was keeping me from developing as the contemplative communicator I am meant to be. I care not a whit about LOST because it hasn't inspired development of my pilgrimage. Conversely, I have read Ted Dekker's "Blessed Child" to the point of breaking the binding because it stimulates my resolution to live for a heavenly reality. In listening to the Bowerbirds, I dismiss materialism. I love to watch Star Wars--by it I learn of redemption, conviction, and honour. For you--who but you and your Maker knows?

God does not fear human creativity. The activity of consumption is not a matter of hastily branding every new offering as good or bad, then engorging ourselves with the good. It's about neutralizing our appetite for simple entertainment, then culling from the sea of innovation those things which propel us God-ward--constructing "in our hearts the highway to Zion." This shift is not an abolition of the original standard, but the entrance to a higher plane of joyous sanctification.


What do you watch, listen to, or read for divine shivers down your spine?