A smartphone is a wonderful thing. It provides immediate access to all kinds of information, plays any music you like, keeps you in touch with friends and family from around the world, and has innumerable apps that can help you keep your life organized. It’s little wonder they are so popular.
But there is a drawback. Smartphones bring with them a demand for our attention. When I want to devote myself to writing or thinking through a challenging problem at work my phone calls to me. (Not literally of course, that would be weird!) Lately, if I’m trying to concentrate, I have to remove my phone from my view just to focus. And should a spare moment arise while waiting in line or between meetings I no longer turn to silent prayer or smile at the child in front of me. My phone is a constant go-to—ready with a text that needs to be answered, the news, or a “quick glance” at my social media feed.
In our screen-saturated world, times of undistracted contemplation, concentration, and plain old silence are hard to come by. But life hasn’t always been this way. My father’s family was the first in their town to get a TV. He has memories of being a boy with the entire neighborhood crammed into his living room to witness this marvel of technology. There was one screen in my father’s entire town! But today the average American home has 7.3 screens. Screens are everywhere: our restaurants, our waiting rooms, our schools, our retail establishments, our places of employment, our cars…and so on. There are even screens on the gas pumps to ensure the few precious seconds we have pumping gas are not bereft of a screen.
Walking through our day we are barraged by the screens. Although appearing in different forms and places they have one overriding purpose: to capture our attention. It is a sad thing to see a couple on a date looking at their phones. Yet when I have a free moment I’m quick to turn to my device to “kill the time” (an absolutely appropriate phrase) instead of talking to God. In turn, my “quick peek” in line at Target or Starbucks or wherever is brought back to my office. Or did it start in the office? It’s not clear. What is clear is that my phone constantly vies for my attention. More worrisome, at some unconscious level, I’m drawn to its soft light, and dopamine hits. I’ve lost track of the times I’ve picked up my phone to get some needed contact or respond to an email only to catch myself sidetracked with any number of things my phone has for me to see.
I recently finished Justin Earley’s book, The Common Rule: Habits of Purpose for an Age of Distraction. [For a previous CFWLA review of this book, click here.] Apparently, I’m not the only one struggling in our screen-saturated age. Earley is candid about his personal struggles to live an undistracted life. And chief among his antagonists is his smartphone. According to Earley the smartphone’s power to distract is not due to any of its given apps. Rather, the device’s core feature is also its greatest danger; namely, “it allows us to communicate our presence across time and space.” In other words, Smartphones have built within their very logic the suggestion that our attention can be split. Once we’ve bought into that logic it does its work: creating a distracted life. As Earley confesses, “Usually this happens simply by habit, like me talking via phone to my wife while doing two or three other things.”
This is one of a number of profound insights Earley offers. But the greatest strength of The Common Rule is not the insights into our digital moment, but the simple yet strategic counter-habits it provides. Earley suggests two key habits (practices that become instinctual over time) we can develop to regain control of our phones. First, Earley advocates for no phones before scripture. This ensures the first thing to imprint our day is God’s word—not our social media feed. Second, Earley proposes readers spend one hour every day with their phones off. This has multiple possible applications: a phone-free hour during work so as to focus on “deep work,” an hour as soon as one gets home from work so as to be present with one’s family, or simply an hour of silence.
My phone is still with me through much of my day and I continue to wrestle with all of the distraction it embodies, but a month into The Common Rule and I’ve already noticed a significant change in my ability to concentrate, contemplate, pray, and be present.
What practices have you put into place to manage your own screen saturation? Have you noticed any changes in your walk with God or relationships with others? Let us know in the comments below.
Robert Covolo is a Cultural Theologian and Author of Fashion Theology. He is also on staff here at the Center for Faith + Work Los Angeles, serving as our Director of Vocational Discipleship.