Broadcast

EDITOR’S NOTE: It’s been almost a year since I’ve published here. Almost a year since my father passed away unexpectedly. It seemed better to be quiet, to process personally. And if you know me, that’s not how I work — so it’s been a very different season. Now I feel once again ready to publish. More on that some other day…

I read an article this year about the tectonic shift in they way we use a bedrock technology – the telephone. In our day of texting, instant messages, Facebook posts, and even good old-fashioned emails, a phone call seems unnecessarily intrusive. Imagine the nerve of picking up the phone and calling someone! A phone call requests immediate attention, but the rest of our methods of contact can be consumed and responded to at the recipient’s discretion.

The Information Age has changed the way we interact in a myriad of ways. A thread woven through all of them is a new ability we have been bequeathed. Formerly the domain of only the very rich or very powerful, its heady power has been bestowed upon the masses. It is the opportunity to broadcast.

Be it a social network post, a Twitter feed, or even a seldom-updated blog (like this one), we have been given the power of the pen. Our audiences are of all sizes – often a few, sometimes a few thousand. But no matter how many consumers we have, we have been empowered to tell that microcosm of the planet exactly what we’re doing and precisely how we feel about it.

We have established an odd new social contract where these communications are concerned: We agree to not hold each other accountable for what we say.

I distinctly remember the first time I violated this more. It was back in the olden days when MySpace and blogging on Xanga were the rage. I was a youth pastor. I read a student’s publicly available blog posts. The feelings expressed were alarming – I became truly concerned for the student’s safety. I picked up the phone, expressing my thoughts and offering support. The first response was “how did you read that?” (“Umm…it’s on the INTERNET!”). Second response: “Oh, I was just blowing off steam. Don’t worry about it.”

Over a decade later, almost all of us are broadcasting in some way. Like so many tiny radio stations, we transmit the contents of our soul. We blow off steam. We rant. We process publicly. We joke. We mock. We commiserate. We decry. We fight. We make up. And we broadcast it all.

I know this is starting to sound like the ramblings of a prematurely old fogey, pining for the good old days when things were different. I’m not (I hope). The world has changed, like it always does. And in so many ways, it’s a good thing. The cries of the oppressed around the world can no longer be silenced by brutal dictators by simply controlling the radio or television. We carry the ability to broadcast everywhere with us. we can dissent, organize, and collaborate. We can connect with a bigger world, no matter where we live.

But we still maintain the unwritten rule that internet communications are not real. I may have written the words, they may be attached to my account, but they don’t matter. It’s just Facebook. It’s just a rant. I’m just sayin’. Most of us have experienced the person who eviscerates you online but says nothing about it in person. Sure, a few people have lost jobs because of reckless tweeting or photos posted to a social network, but they’re the exception that proves the rule. Must of us update and upload to our heart’s content with impunity – we’re not concerned with the consequences because there seldom are any. We are allowed to purge, spewing out so much emotional vomit, without having to deal with the cleanup. Mature people know it does no good to try to correct such internet sputum – the best thing to do is just ignore it – don’t get sucked in the trap.

The simple truth is this: We have been given the ability to broadcast, and we often use it to say things we can’t or won’t say face to face. And we’ve decided that is normal, healthy thing to do.

Though I’ve not heard anything in the media about it, I’ve personally noticed a new trend popping up lately. I call it “the friend test.” The friend test is a passive-agressive way to say something you know many of your listeners will disagree with and not suffer the consequences. It begins with saying you’re afraid. “I know a lot of people will hate me for this, but [insert opinion, revelation, or rant].” It is typically ended with some variant of “but I know my real friends will understand.” By beginning with the disclaimer, we identify anyone who disagrees with the broadcast as judgmental. With the post-script, “real friends” are offered the ability to claim that crown by agreeing with the poster and remarking about how brave they are.

The friend test is not brave. It is not fair. And it is not real. Proverbs 27:6 admonishes us:

Faithful are the wounds of a friend,
But deceitful are the kisses of an enemy.

The friend test creates a fake community of sycophants.

Real friends question, hold accountable, and even wound. Those who care about us the most have the greatest insight into who we really are. True friendship sometimes means uncomfortable questions, disagreements, and even (gasp) direct, face to face contact. My very best friends challenge me. They don’t let careless words go by unquestioned. They make me better by holding me accountable.

Our ability to broadcast has left us with another profound misconception. Because we all now have the same megaphone, we have begun to believe that all opinions are equally valid. Whatever it is we decide to affirm, the Net gives us the tools to find a sympathetic audience. We may have to weed out the posers with a few friend tests, but eventually we can create a pseudo-world where everyone agrees with our chosen philosophy. But finding others who agree with me does not make me right – or even sane. Gravity can’t be circumvented just because two or more people think it is merely a suggestion, not a law.

Though I have sometimes been guilty of careless rants and offhand comments, I don’t accept the rules of the micro-broadcast age. I believe words have consequences, often the power of life and death. I believe Jesus was deadly serious when He said:

But I tell you that every careless word that people speak, they shall give an accounting for it in the day of judgment.

I am far from perfection, but here are a few principles I try to live by:

1. I accept that by posting on the internet, I am submitting my words for disagreement, redress, correction, or even rebuke. I welcome the scrutiny, and I have often had to apologize.
2. I assume everyone else accepts the same responsibility for their broadcasts and act accordingly (often to my detriment).
3. I agree with Jesus that “the mouth speaks out of that which fills the heart,” and the Web is no exception. Words spoken online have the same ability to reveal character as words spoken in person.
4. While conflict is not always negative – a good, constructive confrontation can be a powerful tool for effecting change and repairing relationship, public conflict online is almost ALWAYS destructive and pointless. If I truly care about someone, I must care enough to confront them in person.
5. There is a time to broadcast, and a time for radio silence. I shouldn’t read Facebook posts when I’m depressed. I shouldn’t blog drunk or angry. I should be mature enough to use these great powers responsibly.

Some of that list is slightly tongue in cheek, but the principle is sound: the words we speak, both verbal and online, are extraordinarily powerful, and we must use them wisely. We must not allow our culture’s shallow, impotent version of community to become our reality. We must craft communities of faith where we all agree to submit our words and actions to scrutiny and correction, first by Scripture, second by faithful friends. In sharp contrast to the flippant nature of our broadcast planet paradigm, we must be “quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger.”

Even on Facebook.