The devil is a liarSays he can give you everything that you desireEverything you want but you'd be playin' with the fireSo don't believe the lie, it comes at a price
Colton Dixon - The Devil is a Liar
The past few weeks, I’ve felt incredibly low and overwhelmed at times. By "low," I mean empty, disconnected, and miles away from God and myself. By "overwhelmed," I mean that feeling where the world is just too much, and I just want everyone to leave me alone. It’s a rotten feeling, and unfortunately, it’s one I know all too well. I’ve been here before, which does come with one advantage: having experienced it before means I can usually pinpoint the cause, and then immediately do something about it.
Even a few weeks ago, the root cause became clear to me pretty quickly: Signal and Telegram. These are the messaging apps I use instead of WhatsApp, but they drive me just as crazy. I’ve written about this before. My intentions are good, though: I don't want to isolate myself; I want to connect with others. Because that’s what these apps promise—that I’ll feel connected and better. Sending a quick message to that one friend, that family member, and then mostly waiting and watching for a reply. And when it finally comes: BAM, dopamine hit! And another one, and another one, and another one, until we’re hooked. We cling to that device like a drowning person to a lifebuoy, terrified to let go. And that is exactly what happened: even though I’ve known for weeks that I was hooked again, I just couldn't seem to stop.
"The devil is a liar, says he can give you everything that you desire," Colton Dixon sings. What do I desire? Connection, friendship, meaningful relationships. With whom? First and foremost with God, but it’s the devil telling me that I can find that True Connection in those awful apps. And I know—oh, I know so, so, so well—that it isn’t true. Every time I open Signal and Telegram, every time I hope to find fulfillment there, I give away my power to others. With every message, I feel a little more loved, yet at the exact same time, a little bit emptier. But the voice of reason tells me: "This isn't a bad thing, right? You need connection with others!" The voice of reason, did I say? The voice of the devil, more like it. Because let’s be honest: he is real, and he does everything he can to keep us away from God. He tries, every single day. And sometimes, sometimes he actually succeeds. And then I feel rotten and empty, just like today. Emptier than empty. Ugh.
"Everything you want but you'd be playin' with the fire. So don't believe the lie, it comes at a price." It is playing with fire, every single day. The question I unconsciously ask myself every time is: how much usage can I get away with? An hour a day? Two? Three? Right from early morning, or only from the afternoon onward? One long block of an hour, or is it better spread out over ten short rounds of five minutes each? It is playing with fire, plain and simple.
And where is God in this fire? I don't know. He is there, I think, but buried very deep somewhere. Where can God clearly be found? For me, that’s in my innermost being. And in real, warm relationships and friendships, in face-to-face contact. In (online) meetings. In video calls and phone conversations. In the silence. In music, dance, and song. In crafts and hobbies. In the rain, the sun, the clouds, the grass, and the flowers. In a hug and a smile. In vulnerability and honesty. In authenticity.
Wouldn't it be better if I just deleted Signal and Telegram altogether? Unfortunately not, because I need them to do my Tenth Step: bringing into the light what’s going on inside me, and surrendering it by sharing it with others. And I also need those apps to listen to other people's voice notes, hearing them share their most vulnerable selves with me, allowing me to witness their growth and recovery. I wouldn't miss the messages and photos from my family or friends for anything in the world either. I need all of that too, and somehow, that beauty is also trapped inside those ugly, addictive apps.
In folk dance, there is a beautiful step called the balance step. With it, you stay in one spot for a moment, gently swaying from one foot to the other. The instructors of the group I belonged to for two years would always say, "balance, balance, balance." And then we knew: shift your weight from one foot to the other, three times. Balance, balance, balance.
I often think of that when I struggle with my smartphone use. Balance, balance, balance. Not black, not white. Balance.
But how do I know what the right balance is? For me, the answer often only becomes clear afterward. When I feel empty and depleted later on, when I feel like God is out of reach, that my prayers feel hollow, and that I can no longer feel His presence—that’s when I know the balance is long gone. The question is never whether using my smartphone is fun or enjoyable, because most of the time it is (hello, dopamine!). The question is: how do I feel afterward, in the silence? Am I comfortable without my phone? Do I feel peace and serenity, or am I completely lost inside myself?
In twelve-step programs, we sometimes say we have a G-shaped hole in our heart. Only God can fill that; only God can bring fulfillment and give us what we are looking for. No smartphone, no delicious dessert, no text message, no random item from a store can compare to that. Only God. And as long as we keep searching for Him in places where He cannot be found, we keep wandering aimlessly. A never-ending quest. The emptiness grows deeper, and the search grows more intense. And each time, we get a little more lost inside ourselves.
That is how I feel right now: lost inside myself. And as a result, distanced from God and others too. It scares me when I can't feel God’s presence. I don’t panic, because I know He is there, even when I can't feel Him. And I know there is only one thing left for me to do right now: surrender to Him. Step Three of the AA program: turning my will and my life over to the care of God. Only there, only with Him, can I find true peace. And only He can guide me in what healthy phone use looks like. But this—this definitely isn't it.
Would you pray for me? Would you pray that I may find balance so that peace can return within me? And would you pray for the hundreds, thousands, and even millions of people who are going through this right now too? Because this is not just my struggle. It is the problem I hear about most often from others: the excessive use of WhatsApp and similar apps, and the emptiness it causes time and time again. We need it, but not too much. Please pray for surrender for everyone fighting this battle. That we may surrender ourselves to the Only One who can and will win the fight: God.
