As with most things these days, I blame it on Trump, specifically his 1-year inaugural anniversary. But to sing the blues with the greats from Blind Willie Johnson to Led Zeppelin to Jimmy Buffett (who my kid tells me is in the Epstein files; if so please don’t cancel me) it’s my own damn fault.
Do you see how insufferable I am now? I’ve gone from writing about human evolution and life with God to lame pop (ok, rock) culture references that I hope make me sound cool and maybe a bit edgy. It’s embarrassing.
And enlightening. My kids told me to stop doom-scrolling because they saw how it affected me and by extension affected them. I didn’t really believe them but gave it up anyway at the start of the year.
3 weeks is probably about average for sticking to New Year’s resolutions, so I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. 3 weeks was enough for me to better recognize that my kids were right after all.
But they aren’t all happy about it. My news junkie kid – who pushed harder than anyone for my doom-scroll fast – is frustrated that I won’t talk (ok, argue) politics with him. Now when he asks me what I think about something in the news, I say “idk I’m not following the news.” It drives him mad.
But does it make us happier?
Back in the day, Dr. Phil was on Oprah and asked: “Would you rather be happy or right?” And as daytime talk show TV had promised, I suddenly experienced enlightenment. Of course I want to be right. Who cares about being happy when you can be right?
That, of course, was not Dr. Phil’s point. I think his point is that sometimes you have to choose to be wrong in order to be happy, which is what really matters most. And which is just stupid, until you acknowledge that I’m probably at least a little bit wrong about whatever I think I’m right about. That is certainly true. And so, humility is better than rigid certainty.
But certainty seems to correlate to greater happiness. Not actual accuracy, just certainty. They say “ignorance is bliss” which may be true, but over-confident people who are irrationally certain that they are right and therefore have no need to question or challenge or reflect on their beliefs seem pretty happy too. The miserable ones are the ones in the middle like me – eager to understand but inescapably uncertain.
Research actually supports this. According to polls, educated woke coastal libs like me are generally less happy than traditional heartland conservatives. Am I doing it wrong?
Karl Barth is purported to have said, “A preacher must preach with a newspaper in one hand and a Bible in the other.” I’ve taken this to heart my whole life, but I’m not sure it is good advice. My preaching didn’t seem to benefit. At least some people got upset if I connected Scripture too closely with politics or history or whatever. I tried, subtly and not-so-subtly to warn people about political bad faith (especially MAGA, especially Trump) manipulating faith for personal and political gain. And yet here we are with Trump 2.0. Now I’m out of church ministry but the MAGA voters are still there.
What am I trying to say? Dallas Willard would say we’re all in the process of spiritual formation, whether we know it or not. I want to be informed, but I want to be formed even more. I’m uncomfortable with the idea that I might not be mature enough to handle both. I don’t want to have to admit that I might have to choose between being a well-informed citizen of earth and being well-formed as a follower of Jesus.
And it makes me angry (jealous maybe?) that other people seem so much better at both than I am at either. And if doom-scrolling makes me unhappy (which it does, duh), why doesn’t not-doom-scrolling make me happier? I tease my kids that I am “no fun” which I say as a joke, with a laugh. But in all seriousness, what if it is true?
Quakers have an old (earned?) reputation for being joyless and way-too-serious. Quaker gray. Plain talk. Silence. Moral scolding. No music. No leisure. No luxury. No self-indulgence. No little treats. Etc. Modern shiny happy evangelicalism diagnoses that as misguided life choices. Just choose joy instead! But what if it’s not a choice? What if I can’t choose to be happier than I am? Maybe I can choose not to doom-scroll. But choosing to be happy is a whole other thing.
Some Christians try hard to see Jesus as happy, funny, laughing. But we don’t get a “Jesus laughed” verse. We do have a “Jesus wept.” A man of sorrows, well-acquainted with grief. I’m pretty sure that is not supposed to be prescriptive, as if in order to be more like Jesus I should try to get better acquainted with grief. But maybe we don’t get to choose.
Anyway, I could go on. I already have! Too long. Which is why I have to be careful with self-reflection. There is no bottom. It’s too dark to see. I’m too dim.
So, enough of this penance. Getting back on the no-doom-scrolling horse. Maybe I’ll last longer than 3 weeks this time?
Place your bets!
Dim Reflections 
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