Are you battling a tech addiction? How is it affecting the kids you parent or teach? Read on for insights about breaking the ties with your devices.
“Mom. Mom!”
I looked up at my son. “I’m sorry. What?” I asked.
“Did you hear anything I said?”
“No,” I admitted.
“I think you’re addicted to your phone,” he remarked.
Justifications and excuses lingered on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell my son about the “important” email I had to send. But the truth is, he was right. I had a tech addiction.
Tech Addiction: The Pull of Devices
I recently wrote about wisely investing the limited time we have with our children. Technology is one of the biggest drains of our time because of the access it gives us to a virtual life. Our lives revolve around this access, and its pull on us is strong.
We always have emails to check, texts to respond to, statuses to update, images and videos to see or post. And we must do it all right away (or so we think), putting everything else on pause.
No doubt, technology provides many benefits to our lives. But we can’t be naïve to the consequences, including its huge impact on our in-person relationships. Tech entices us away from face-to-face contact and real authentic connections.
More often than not, tech is a time-waster. It sucks us in and consumes hours. We think we are logging in to check one thing, and an hour later we finally come up for air. The limited granules in the sand of our life’s clock trickle down while our fingers swipe and click our days away.
And as my son reminded me, how much of real life do we miss when our eyes are glued to the screen of our virtual life?
The Treasure of Time
Technology, like anything good, can turn sour when our hearts distort its role.
The ability we have to read emails, texts, and status updates gives us a rush. It’s fun, so we keep going back for more. But time is too valuable. It’s a treasure in its own right.
And make no mistake: The inordinate use of technology lusts for our time—our treasure—which lusts for our hearts. Tech addiction subtly moves in and tries to prop up the idol of self, attempting to convince us that the virtual world of “me, myself and I” is more important than the real life happening right in front of us.
When I really think about it, my heart is convicted. I don’t want my kids to think I care more about responding to a message than I do about them. When I consider how much time I’ve wasted, time I’ll never get back, I’m doubly convicted.
Guilt settles in. I try harder and set rules for tech use. I resolve to not be consumed by it. But sooner or later, I fail again.
