The sound of a quick afternoon nap sounded so refreshing but just as I buried my head into the pillow, my iPhone beeped.
It was the memory care facility calling to inform me that my mom had bitten a nurse. Ouch. I was embarrassed and worried that they would terminate her stay but at least the nurse was OK, the woman on the phone was assuring me.
Before I could end the conversation, my youngest daughter ran in frantically looking for her dad, who had let our large, chocolate labradoodle loose (again) – and he was harassing a friend who had just pulled up in his truck to return our cement mixer. Knowing how scary Rufus looks and frightening his growling bark sounds, I ended the phone call abruptly and rushed outside. “I can’t reach Glen,” our friend said, “Is there someone around who can help me unload this?” Fortunately he seemed less concerned about Rufus than I was.
“Of course, he couldn’t reach Glen,” I grumbled silently to myself, “he doesn’t carry his phone with him.” I ran down the hill and around our guest house calling for my husband. With his truck in the driveway, I knew he was around somewhere. I crisscrossed the property calling for him in vain. “Was he lying somewhere hurt and unable to respond?” I wondered. My worry turned to anger however when I found Glen chatting peacefully with Cam and Erin inside their home next door.
“You let Rufus out again unsupervised,” I complained rather angrily, “and there are times – like now – when you really need to be reached.”
Later that day, after cooling down, I thought about my tendency to be overly connected to my iPhone and how this propensity can cause me to grow anxious.
Anxious if I can’t reach someone.
Anxious if I can’t find my iPhone.
Anxious if I am not on top of all the communication coming at me via text. Via email. Via social media. Via Messenger.
Prior to the cell phone days, life felt less frantic.
We simply could not do as much, connect with others as readily, or stay on top of so much information. I find it harder to pray today because of the temptation to turn to others instead. Yet God created each of us with a deep need of intimacy with Him. We just try to fill it in other ways – and for me it’s often via my iPhone.
My iPhone may get misplaced. Glen may not respond to His. But with God, a connection is always available. He simply waits for me to turn to Him.
He is with me in my moments of distress ready to settle my heart.
He is with me in my fears with open hands to receive them.
He is with me whether or not I acknowledge His presence.
I want to grow deeply aware of His presence and desperate for connection with Him at all times – when He has his rightful place in my heart, the iPhone will become less of an obsession. In His presence I can rest knowing He is sovereign and will have His way despite all my efforts to have mine.
It’s really not about my iPhone use- or about Glen’s lack of iPhone use.
It’s about what I choose to do with God who is always there ready to connect intimately with me. In His arms everything else will fall into place.
LORD, may we adults model for our children wise use of our technology and an an abiding trust in You. May they sense Your presence in our lives, and in theirs, and turn to You, first and foremost, for guidance and comfort.
For thus says the One who is high and lifted up, whose name is Holy, “I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite.
Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence?
And He said, “My presence shall go with you, and I will give you rest.”
You will make known to me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever.
And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, to be with you forever.