Technology and Faith

This past Sunday I was watching as my worship leader sang a beautiful song of praise.  At the end we all sang "Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God Almighty" It was nice.   My church delivers a very complete worship package.  I can sing along with my leader on the screen, who is beamed to me from a location somewhere far away.  He usually has lovely pictures of doves and clouds scrolling behind him.  During the interlude, I pause as I watch the electric guitar guy really rock the old hymn. My emotions swell along with the drummer's beat.

As nice as this pre-processed worship experience is, it dawned on me that worship--true worship--probably can not be mediated. Just watching moving pictures or listening to electrified music is not worship. And just like the technology that is put between me and my pastor mediates and changes our relationship, so is my worship experience changed when it is mediated by someone else doing the worship work for me. Real worship happens when I enter in.  When my entire body, mind and soul becomes engaged in praising God, that is when I catch a glimpse of the awesome power of God--that is when I catch a glimpse of a God who is overwhlemingly bigger than any problem or hang up I might have.

Unfortunately, those true worship experiences don't happen that often.  I tend to get caught up in the technology and the experience that has been pre-processed for me.  It makes me lazy and only involves part of my being.  But every now and then, I let it go. I remember why I am really there--not to be entertained but to participate--not to have someone else bring me to the throne of God, but to enter in myself.

So, I think this Sunday, I won't think so much.  I won't worry about what everyone else is doing.  I won't wait for the billowing clouds or the musical interludes.  I will be committed to humble myself and enter into the presence of the Almighty God.

"Cool!"  That's what I told my husband. "I can't wait to get this thing!" This cool new iPad would look beautiful next to my iPod, iPhone, iTouch, iMac, PS3, PSP, DVR, and 4 TV's.  Yes, I could sit in bed and read a book with my iPad.  I could check my e-mails, my Facebook pages, and write a blog in between boring descriptions in the novel I am reading. As a consumer, I am giddy.  As a person who is supposed to be more analytical, I guess I need to stop and consider what this sweet-looking device means for the world.

First of all, Marshall McLuhan's voice rings in my ears...the medium is the message.  Well, the medium is a sleek, shiny gadget with a touch screen and colors that will make my book reading more toteable and certainly more sophisticated.  The message, however, may be that the multi-functional device will make my reading time multi-purposed. The upside is that I no longer need to spend my time JUST reading--imagine how much more productive I can be.  The downside, however, is that reading a book is one of the very few things I do that is concentrated, single purposed, and focused. The new iPad may be the next step in taking away what little focus I have left in my life.

The second possible problem is that this new gadget adds one more layer to the complexity and consumerism I like to call my modern life.  I hate to say it, but sometimes the simple things are the best.  As I search for more places to stuff my old phones, dead computers, analogue tv's, chords, adapters, and headphones, I can't help but wonder if I really need all this stuff.  After all, sometimes chopping an onion with a knife instead of a Ronco slicer-dicer might be the choice that simplifies my life. And sometimes reading in bed with a book--the old fashioned kind with real pages--may be the solution that keeps my bank account in better shape, my closet easier to use, and my life less complex. As hard as it is to say, sometimes I don't need the newest and the fastest and the best. Scripture has ALOT to say about how we spend our money.  (Something about where our treasure is our hearts will soon follow.)

So, does that mean that Steve Jobs has introduced just one more way to sabatouge our future and destroy our humanity?  Well, probably not. I guess it means, however, that I can wait a little while longer to see if this cool new toy will really add some value to my day or just clutter up an already overcrowded life.

Once again, I sit here watching a ventilator breathe for my son.  While I hadn't expected to include a lot of health perspective in my blog on technology and faith, I can't help but be struck by the overwhleming presence of technology in my son's recovery. That, in turn, has an enormous impact on my faith. 

As much as we have always tried to keep my son's life as uncomplicated as possible, this recent trip to the ICU has reminded me how very fragile his life is and how close we live every day to chaos.  Today, he has a machine breathing for him, a tube feeding him, and a bed that turns him every 10 minutes to help clear his lungs. I sit here on a Sunday morning, contemplating God's love for my son. Put quite plainly, my son wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the technology that often complicates his life. Just like God works through nature and simple beauty, he also works through ugly and cluttered technologies. He works through the curt and dismissive doctor at the same time he works through a mother's loving caress.  God is here in this hospital room and, even though he may be difficult to hear through the noisy machines, he ministers to my heart more clearly than he does on a silent summer day.  I guess this may be the ultimate joining of live-giving technology and soul-refreshing faith. 

I attend a large church that has a main campus with two satellite campuses.  The music is live at the satellites, but the sermon is seen through a 5-minute delayed video feed from the main campus. The large video screens and full-size view of the pastor makes the experience feel "almost" real.  The illusion holds, that is, until something happens like yesterday.  The pastor said something and the audience clapped to show approval for what he said.  It was clear, the audience at my remote site didn't know what to do.  Should we clap for someone who wasn't actually there and couldn't hear us?  Was the clapping really for the other people sitting in the small sanctuary? What was the role of the clapping?  Or, in a broader respect, what was the role of the audience?  Did the pastor really need us?  Did we really need each other?  After all, we watch a sermon video--what is the diference between that and watching a sermon video at home?  Would I clap at home?

These are just some of the questions I struggle with as I attend a church I have grown to appreciate immensely.  The church is relevant and effective.  It is making a difference in our community. But how does a mediating technology like the video feed impact the experience?  After all, it is a big church, 13,000 people, and if I saw the pastor in person, he certainly wouldn't see me or change anything based on my presence. So whether I experience him in person or through a video feed probably doesn't impact him.

One thing author and pastor Shane Hipps suggests is that this kind of set up communicates something very specific about the gospel.  It says that only a few individuals are skilled enough to preach.  Only a few professional musicians are skilled enough to sing. The rest of us must acknowledge our limitations and simply take in what we are presented.  I'm not so sure. 

When I am part of the audience in a remote location, I am still there, worshipping with other people.  I am still experiencing some sort of community.  After all, watching a movie alone in my living room is different than watching in a theater with a crowd full of people.  The theater experience "connects" me to a larger community.  It helps me "feel' things in a richer way.  An audience also helps focus in on things that are particularly important, whether it means laughing at things that are funny or being completely silent when things are significant. Maybe the role of the audience is more important for the audience members. The sermon may be mediated, but the group experience is not.  Maybe that is just as important.  So, the next time the audience struggles with whether they should clap for a video person, I think I will join in, to remind people that I am there and we are all in this together.

As I write this blog, I am sitting in my son's intensive care hospital room, surrounded by every imaginable piece of technology. There are machines that monitor his heart rate, oxygen levels, and blood pressure. Other machines feed him, deliver his medication, look deep into his chest, and identify abnormal heart rythms and brain waves. My son has a cold. Unfortunately, because of his severe handicaps and chronic illnesses, the doctors feel it is necessary to monitor him for all sorts of potential problems using the technology they have grown so very fond of.

This is a difficult hospitilization because I struggle with whether the doctors and all of their technology and medicine are really helping my son or actually making him worse. Because his "healthy" state is never very far away from his "sick" state, the doctors tend to opt for safe rather than sorry and plug him into the high-tech, biophysical approach to health care at the smallest sign of trouble. However, when all is said and done, it is probably the soft songs sung in his ear, the cuddly stuffed animal cradled in his arm, or the KungFu Panda video playing on the tv that provides the deepest healing.

Technology has saved my son's life on several occasions and I thank God for talented medical technicians. However, I also thank God for the kind words spoken by the neurologist, the sweet caring provided by the nurses, and the patient humility and diligence shown by the group home workers. We can never forget the person who lies amidst the technology--whether it is in a hospital room or on Facebook. God has created us to respond to one another in deep and meaningful ways. We can't let technology overshadow our need for one another or reduce our willingness to open up and communicate in a way that touches the heart.