Time to get quiet

That game on Saturday night irritated me to no end.  I’m not referring to the outcome - that was inevitable.  (If you would like my opinion on how to fix the problem, feel free to set aside an hour and then ask me . . .)  It wasn’t the end of the game that irritated me.  It was before the beginning of the game.

I texted my friend who was also watching, “Oh, come on.  Play the game already for crying out loud.”  That was at 8:16.  The game still didn’t start for another 5 minutes after that.  Why?  In one word, “hype.”

I don’t know what it was like to actually be in the arena, but what I saw and heard in my living room was loud, flashy, and overwhelming.  I get it.  This was Game Seven, winner-take-all and the home team is doing everything possible to “pump up the boys” and get the crowd into it.  After all, it’s a “great bunch of guys” in the locker room who “give 110%” and “leave it all on the ice.”  With that kind of commitment, you need a little punch up to get ready for the game.

We live in a hyper-sensualized culture.  Everything needs to be “loud and proud.”  Every event needs to outdo the previous ones.  Bigger is better - always.  We’ve gone from having electric lights to having flashing lights to having 8K video on screens bigger than my house.  Even roadside billboards are animated in HD.  

Auditory and visual stimulation create an unforgettable experience.  Before the discovery of electricity, great halls rumbled and shook to the thunderous notes of orchestras with their array of everything from a simple flute to huge kettle drums.  Before that, people were overwhelmed with the magnificent demonstrations of the power of nature.  Lightening, gale force winds, volcanic eruptions, and earthquakes were the peak of sensory overload - and fear.  The on-demand effects we can produce now in live events, movies, even in the due course of everyday life (phones chirping, watches buzzing, cars beeping) would have dumbfounded people 200 years ago.  

It makes it all the more important, then, that we embrace the wisdom of being still.  The psalmist referenced what would be the largest sensory overload events he could imagine for his culture and age:  kingdoms being toppled, mountains falling into the sea, the earth shaking.  “And yet,” he said, “even though all that may happen, we need to pause.  We need to be still.  We need to be intentional to remember that the LORD is God” (Psalm 46, Graham’s version).

Sensory exploration and experience are wonderful things.  For some, it is the chest-pounding bass line at a concert.  For others, it is the rush of wind on a roller coaster.  Others find it in the careful combination of spices and herbs in food well prepared and presented.  All of it can produce a rush.  All of it can distract from the stuff of life.

Therein lies the problem.  Yes, we need distractions from time to time.  It can be a useful thing.  As always, though, there is the risk that the distraction slowly becomes the main thing.  The more we are exposed to sensory stimulation, the more we become desensitized to it and then we need more in order to reproduce the same “rush” that we had before.  Slowly, distractions displace and distort our perspective and passions.  What is good is defined by what feels good rather than what truly IS good.

Fortunately, the psalmist provides us with an antidote to hyper-sensualization:  “Be still and know that I am God.”  This is the paradox of “living by faith.”  We turn to God because His Spirit works within us to draw us to Himself, and we know in our minds and feel in our hearts this irresistible need to be reconciled to Him.  It feels right and good.  But then comes the plodding . . . choosing to pursue what divine decree says is right and good . . . and it is hard.  We struggle.  We are exhausted.  We mess up.  We feel horrible.  We want to feel good . . . and the distractions are appealing.

Taking time to unplug - literally and figuratively - is essential to maintaining our perspective, passions, and priorities.  Even Jesus took time away from His disciples to commune with the Father.  It isn’t always “WOW!”  It seldom is easy.  It is always a challenge of discipline.  It is also refreshing and renewing to pause, reflect on the truth of God’s nature and character, to remember the quietness of His fingerprints, and to know He is God . . . and There Is No Other.