I quit Facebook, and this is what I learned....

“Hm, what should I look up?” I wondered, as I grabbed my iPad, plopped on the couch and tapped the Google chrome icon. Usually, my finger would automatically reach for the Facebook icon, and then start the scroll through a clogged newsfeed. Ever since I’d gotten rid of it, I’d felt a new freedom to use my time in more productive ways. “Let’s do some more research on dog breeds,” I thought. I’ve been thinking for awhile now that I want to get a dog, and I’m a firm believer in researching breeds that will fit well with my lifestyle. Without the usual time-suck that Facebook brings, I’m finally able to sit down and do some searching and planning.

Extra time isn’t the only bonus of leaving Facebook. I’ve taken a hiatus for a month, maybe a bit longer, and I’ve noticed that I’m more content. Although I am largely happy with the life I lead and love what I do, social media presents a projected image of the highlights of people’s lives, their “glory moments” so to speak, and this in turn can lead to comparison. I’d started wondering if what I really had WAS great, or if I was, in fact, missing out on something vital that other people seemed to have found. This lead to the inevitable and contagious disease called “Fear Of Missing Out”, dubbed “FOMO” for short. Since I’ve been off of Facebook, I have recognized a decline in FOMO, and have felt freer to live life in the moment, enjoy it for what it is, and be more grateful for what I DO have, rather than wanting anything more.

Oddly enough, I have also noticed a decrease in my spending habits on things that I want rather than need. Now when I go to stores, I bypass material things that just a month ago would have tempted me with the promise of eliciting positive reactions from others like, “Oh that dress is SO cute!” or, “I love your scarf! Where did you get it?” Instead, I go straight to, “Do I want this, or do I NEED it?” In this change, I have identified a correlation between wanting to impress others on social media posts and spending money on things I didn’t need. I did this because I felt the need to project that image of the “perfect happy life”.

In addition to a general increase in emotional happiness and a more padded pocketbook, I’ve been able to deepen the relationships that I already have. I personally believe that there is a natural ebb and flow to life, a cycle, an introduction of people into our lives just for certain seasons. Then their presence fades as we eventually part ways to new life seasons. Facebook, however, tempts us to hold on to relationships that we otherwise would not continue.

Research shows that humans are meant to have a limited number of relationships. We only have the emotional and physical capacity to stay in touch with so many people at a time. This includes about 3-5 people in our very close circle of friends and family, then an outer circle that constitutes about 12-15 people. Beyond that, naturally and healthily, we should have shallower relationships with any larger number of people.

On Facebook, many people have anywhere from 300-1,500 “friends”. This is far too many. The truth may sound callous, cold, and unfeeling to some, but anyone who has spent a considerable amount of time researching human health and well-being knows that it is wise for us to set boundaries in our lives: in work, in social commitments, in time, and yes, even in our relationships and interactions with other people. This does not mean we should lack compassion and empathy for those in dire circumstances or for strangers, but if we are not spreading ourselves so thin with meaningless interactions on Facebook or other social media channels, logically we should have MORE compassion and empathy and emotional capacity to love and take care of others as we should instead of squandering it through a digital newsfeed.

So, by leaving Facebook, those who belong in this present life season of mine do not magically disappear. The relationships instead become stronger and more secure. I’ve become a better listener. I’ve become more conscientious and intentional in my connections with others, and so have felt a deeper connection with those in my closer circle of friends. I invest more thoughtfully in specific relationships because I don’t worry about keeping up too many other fringe relationships or contacts.

Finally, we’re back to the first change I noticed after I quitted Facebook: time. Whether I like admitting it or not, Facebook was a real time-consumer for me. With the time I’ve saved from being on social media, I have explored various other money-making possibilities, have invested more in my teaching career, and have spent more time doing things that I love an am passionate about—writing, speech-making, growing my musical talents, and creating products to sell on teacher websites. I’d say that’s a pretty good trade-off.

Friends and strangers, if these are the benefits that I’ve noticed in my life just in the past month, I can’t wait to see the long-term benefits I will experience from having a healthier attitude towards this site. I hope that, even if you don’t agree with some of my points, you can take some time to actually reflect on how you’re choosing to invest your time, energy, and emotions. If you feel Facebook encourages a healthier lifestyle for you, great! If not, it might be time to say “good-bye” to social media and hello to a deeper, more satisfying, and more fulfilling life that is no longer projected through technological means but instead is visible to the real world around you. I guarantee you—it’ll be worth it.

Don't Let Comparison Steal Your Joy

“What do I always tell you?” I gently encouraged one of my students, “All that I expect of you is YOUR best. Not someone else’s best. I want you to do the best that you can do; that’s all I ask. You know that. Did you work hard?” The seven-year-old in front of me hastily tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Y-y-es”, she stammered. I smiled at her, trying to meet her downcast eyes, “Then is that all that matters?” Slowly, she nodded. “Okay,” I finished briskly, “Where do we put our things when they’re done?” My student quickly responded, “In the ‘turn-it-in’ bin.” I nodded, and then added, “I can’t wait to read everything that you’ve written! Nice work.” Knowing then that our short conference was over, my second-grader turned and made her way over to the lime green basket that has served as our “Turn-it-in Bin” for the past year or so.

I wish I could say this sort of scene was not a regular one, but I often encounter my students in such a state after various assignments or projects. Sometimes, it is pure frustration at how difficult the subject matter is, but many other times, it is frustration because they think that their work isn’t as good as so-and-so’s. I also wish I could say that this sort of scene isn’t replayed again at adult levels, but unfortunately, it is. In fact, how many of us, as we read this, think of a circumstance in our own lives where we have felt similarly to this young seven-year-old? Admit it—we too, as adults, have situations where we feel our best isn’t enough. It isn’t as good as someone else’s, and therefore, it isn’t worth showing anyone. Well, if I thought that way about my writing, you wouldn’t even be reading this. I am perfectly aware of the fact that I am not even close to the level of great authors, or even good ones, but that doesn’t stop me. If I just gave up because I’m not the best, and because there are others better than me, then the world would be deprived of my talents and the good gifts that I have been given. The same goes for others.

The lesson I am trying to instill in my young students is that, if they spend their time comparing their work with others and lamenting its deficiencies, then they will miss out on being able to be proud of what they have accomplished. They’ll miss out on the essential feeling of accomplishment, that which encourages us to keep working, to keep striving, to go further than we have before. In an article published by The Utopian Life a couple of years ago, both dopamine and serotonin, essential for health, positive outlook, and well-being are released when someone achieves a goal, feels a sense of accomplishment, or reflects with thankfulness on a past accomplishment or goal that they have achieved. Without these chemicals being released in our brains, humans become lonely, depressed, and can lose joy and hope in our lives. Therefore, it is imperative that students at a young age can feel a sense of pride and accomplishment in their work. Not only will this set a healthy foundation for further growth and brain development, but it will also start to establish positive patterns in goal-setting and achieving.

Comparison steals joy. I see this starting at a very young age in my students, and I also see it threaten to steal my own joy as an adult. I see it crush dreams, destroy relationships, and ruin quality of life. Now, I’m not saying that we all need “participation” medals and all need to feel special for everything. I’m saying that when we work hard, achieve a goal, and do our best, that IS noteworthy and is something to be celebrated. If we don’t, we fall prey to comparing ourselves to others, feeling depressed because we “can’t do anything that’s good”, and in the end will be far less productive and encouraging individuals. So, next time you find yourself comparing, stop. Instead, turn your mind to what you have done that you are proud of. And learn, in humility, to acknowledge excellence in others’ work. Don’t be afraid to admit that your passions or talents don’t lie in the same areas as another person. That’s good. God made us all different for a reason. But also don’t be afraid to feel accomplished and proud of the hard work you’ve done that has led to excellence and positive results. Allow that dopamine release. Relish in it. Then set some more goals and keep charging on.

To be a Missionary

God's plans are greater.

“This isn’t what was supposed to happen.” The thought hits me as I bustle around my classroom, cleaning and preparing for a second year of teaching. “This isn’t what I expected.” More mature Christians may scoff at my immaturity in just having realized, at 25, that God’s ways are rarely, if ever, our ways. Yet this revelation gives me strange, sweet peace. Though this looks nothing like I’d imagined for being a missionary, I’m exactly where I should be, doing exactly what God desires of me.

When I was 14 years old, God called me to be a missionary. It was at a conference, the name of which I can’t even remember, filled with people whose names I don’t recall, in a town somewhere in the middle of Georgia. None of that matters. In my adolescent mind, this calling meant that someday I would end up in a faraway country, like India or Papua New Guinea, ministering to people in a place and culture vastly different from my own. At 18 years of age, this idea seemed cemented as a sure future—as I wandered the hallways of an international school in Bandung, Indonesia, I heard the Holy Spirit calling me to be a teacher. In my 18-year-old mind, I decided this meant that I would be a teacher in an international school somewhere other than the United States—perhaps Europe? Africa? Back in Indonesia? So, as I entered this second year of teaching here in Minnesota, I was still waiting for the call to move overseas again. That I would continue to teach in a city not far from where I grew up, in the Midwest, in America, was inconceivable to me right after graduating college. That is, until I thought more deeply about what it really means to be a missionary.

I’ll never forget a conversation I had with my dad while I was still in college, student teaching, and greatly struggling with the next steps for my future. Was I doing the right thing by not looking for jobs overseas? Was I a bad Christian if I didn’t choose to work in the inner city schools, even though I don’t have a heart for it? My dad’s response: “Find your Calcutta”. Mother Theresa had many people approach her throughout the years, asking if they could work alongside her. They felt that because there was such a need for Christ in Calcutta, they should leave their livelihoods, families, and countries and come to work in India. Her response: “Find your Calcutta.” Not everyone’s mission field is the same. In fact, very few people are truly called to be long-term, overseas missionaries. This revelation shocked me, yet resonated with me and brought with it a strange sense of peace. I am not less worthy a Christ-follower or less ambitious a missionary if I stay in my home country to preach Christ’s salvation. If this is where my heart is, I am not disobeying God. I am not going against His will.

Maybe someday I’ll move overseas. That dream isn’t dead. But it could be far, far in my future. It took ten years for the Holy Spirit’s calling of missions to come to fruition in my life. In those ten years, He prepared me, molded me, and fashioned my heart to love what I do and have compassion for those around me. So it’s okay. I trust that wherever God has me, He will give me a heart for those around me. I no longer try to make predictions of the future—that would ruin the adventure to which He has called me, and it would pull my gaze from what He has me doing in the present moment. Instead, I choose to do my work with all my heart, because it is the messy, beautiful, redeeming work that Christ has given me to do. In a recent sermon at Eaglebrook Church, the speaker quoted a phrase that beats life into my heart and sings a sweet melody of peace to my soul. He said, “God’s will isn’t so much where you go, but that wherever you go, be faithful.” In Colossians chapter 3, it says, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for man, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” It’s amazing the freedom that this brings.

I pondered these things as I finished cleaning up my classroom, writing my students’ names on their desks, and getting everything ready for another year of learning. I couldn’t stop the wave of joy that swept through my entire being as I finally realized: This is my Calcutta. This is my battlefield. This is my mission. Though it looks nothing like my 14-year-old self thought it would, it’s better. Truly, “God’s ways are higher that your ways, His thoughts than your thoughts.” Amen.