My love affair with social networking began innocently in 2003 when I started blogging on
Xanga to keep up with the small group of junior high girls I led.
Facebook wasn’t even an option for me—back in
those days, you had to be a college student to have a Facebook account.
But I discovered that I was an early adopter in all things tech. In 2006, when Facebook opened its digital doorway to the entire world, I eagerly signed up, connecting with the couple hundred friends whose email addresses I had stored away. I got into my first
poke war. And if I remember correctly, I won.
Later that year, I
had an article published on women and porn addiction that drove a large amount of traffic to
my blog. On my blog, I had a link to my Facebook account, and soon, the requests began pouring in. Before you could throw a sheep at me, thousands of people and I became friends.
I won’t lie. The attention fed my ego. Attention that, as an introvert, I probably would have never discovered any other way.
And this instant group of friends came with something every aspiring author desires—a built-in platform.
As I began to work on my book
Mad Church Disease: Overcoming the Burnout Epidemic, I utilized Facebook as a marketing tool. I won’t discount any of the meaningful conversations that occurred in spite of my ruthless marketing, but my main focus on Facebook was to spread my message.
Facebook reports that its 200 million users worldwide are logging in collectively for 3.5 billion Facebook minutes per day. For the first couple of years I was on Facebook, I was contributing more than my fair share of those minutes. And why not? It was doing exactly what I needed it to do—finding other leaders in ministry and connecting them with a message I was very passionate about. I was able to set up events for conferences or churches I was speaking at to help spread the word even more. And when I wasn't marketing, it was fun to see how the football player I pined over in ninth grade was now balding with three kids.
Except for my husband suggesting (kindly and quietly) that I was becoming a little obsessed with my online persona, I didn’t think twice about my Facebook behavior. After all, it was
ministry.
It was all for God, right?
Mad Church Disease released in February 2009. Following its release was a two-week speaking tour at several conferences. Because my time was consumed by speaking or interacting with other leaders, I didn’t have time to log in as much as normal. After the two weeks were over, I found that a small part of my brain had relaxed. I remember sitting in the back row on my flight home, curled up next to the window, writing in my journal. I was reflecting on the past few days and how, without the overload of information from my online habits, I felt as if I could hear the voice of God a little more clearly.
My online behavior changed a little bit. I didn’t log in quite so much. I began leaving my computer in my office a few nights a week. Although I was still plenty plugged in, I began craving the freedom being unplugged brought me.
As the Lenten season approached, I prayerfully asked God if there was anything I should set aside. He gently showed me how I had allowed social media to become my only conduit to Him, instead of simplicity and rest. I decided to give up blogging, Facebook, and Twitter for the six weeks leading up to Easter.
From the outside looking in, this wasn’t a smart move for a rookie author. I talked to my marketing manager at
Zondervan and let him know what I was considering, begging him not to hate me. He saw the purpose of my fast and stood behind my decision. Until this point in time, I had full, strategic control over when I would offer promotions or giveaways or publicize the book. I was nervous that by giving up my online voice, my book sales would plummet, my publisher would drop me, and I’d be destined to live a life of mediocrity.
(Did I mention I have control issues? I have control issues.)
Photo: Chris Jackson
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